Midnight Secrets Page 7

  Steve let his gaze drift from woman to woman as he talked to make certain all of them were listening to him and understanding and to make sure he didn’t stare at Anna Avery too long. “I’ll show you how to keep the right pace and distance between wagons. We’ll do circle-ups tomorrow; they’re tricky to learn, too. So is the use of the whip. You want to scare the animals into obedience, but you don’t want to harm them. You may get hoarse because you’ll do a lot of shouting at them to be heard over the noise of wheels and hooves. Your back and arms will ache at first, but they’ll loosen up. It’ll help if your husbands give you a good rub at night with some liniment.”

  Some of the women exchanged smiles of amusement.

  “Have your family fed, your chores done, and your wagon loaded and ready to pull out every morning at seven. We rest for an hour in the middle of the day when it’s hottest. We camp at six. Bedtime is at nine.”

  “We’ll have that strict a schedule to follow?” Mattie asked with a pout.

  “Yes, ma’am, Mrs. Epps; it keeps order. Each day, the lead wagons will be- swapped with the last ones; that way, nobody has to eat dust all the time. But if you’re late getting started, you fall in at the rear, no matter your assigned position. Understood, ladies?”

  Some of the women nodded, some replied verbally, and a couple frowned.

  “As I said, signal if you fall too far behind; it isn’t safe to become a target for raiders. Don’t worry about your milk cows; they’ll keep pace with the mules, and so will your horse if you have one.”

  Ginny felt warmed by the sound of Steve’s mellow voice and his nearness. She couldn’t forget the sparks between them earlier, and thinking of them made her tingle. He was strong enough to take care of anything and anyone. Too bad she couldn’t pursue him as Lucy had teased, as her “strict schedule” wouldn’t allow it, and probably his loner attitude wouldn’t permit it, either. Still…

  “When we’re in the open, you might have trouble with strong winds swaying your wagons. If it gets too bad, we’ll stop to shift loads to that side to help you keep balance. A strong gust can tip a wagon on unlevel ground, especially if the load isn’t packed and secured as you were taught. If you’re fussy when you’re tired and sore, keep to yourself in that condition so you won’t pass along that irritation to others. The last two things we’ll learn during this week are how to cross rivers and handle stampedes; I’ll explain those when the time comes. Any questions?”

  Ginny and her friends were relieved when everyone remained silent.

  “Good. This is how you handle a whip and reins…” Steve began.

  After he finished his explanation and answered questions, he sent the women to harness their teams. Only two required assistance. Milk cows and horses were tied to trees to graze, and chickens in small pens were left nearby. Steve showed the women how to make turns to leave their camping spots and how to get in line. When the formation of fifteen wagons was ready, he mounted his horse and rode to the left side of the group so he could be seen by the drivers who sat on that side of their seats. He took a place by the leader, Louise Jackson, as she knew how to handle a team and wagon, and that role swelled her bossy head even more.

  “Let’s move out!” Steve shouted, and waved his tan hat to those at the rear in case some couldn’t hear him. He sat astride a large sorrel and signaled each one at the correct time to pull out to create a safe distance between wagons, which they were to keep unchanged as ordered.

  Though little dust was stirred up during their departure in the grassy campground, he could imagine the griping from some when they hit dry-dirt locations on the trail where dust clouds would be as thick as a heavy fog or when mud was ankle-deep and mushy and wheels and hooves would fling it in all directions.

  Steve watched Anna Avery click her reins and tongue to get her team moving. He was glad the six mules obeyed so he wouldn’t have to ride to her and help. He didn’t want the others to think he was giving her special treatment, as jealousy always sparked trouble and ill will.

  The Avery mules trudged along as they reached him but kept moving. He noticed how pale and tense Anna looked. He knew that genteel lady must be shaking with panic. As if she wanted to hide those feelings from him, she didn’t look his way when she passed him. Too bad he couldn’t be driving that wagon and heading out on a long trip with her to spend many a secluded night under a starry—

  Steve jerked himself to attention as he almost missed signaling the next woman during his distraction. Keep your head clear!

  After the last wagon passed him, Steve patted the neck of his reddish-brown horse and murmured, “Let’s go, Chuune.” He galloped past each wagon to check how each female was doing. He spoke to every one, if only a few words. Again, he traveled from one end to the other as he let them practice their new skills.

  The guide rode next to Louise as he told her to make a wide turn and head back toward camp. He stayed in that spot to watch each do the tricky maneuver and gave instructions when needed. He couldn’t help but feel pride in himself for the good job he was doing.

  He watched the woman in mind make her first turn. She had a little trouble but succeeded. She seemed proud and happy, too;’ she sent him a quick smile as she passed him this time. He only nodded a response to keep his surge of desire concealed from her and others.

  The routine of driving and turning continued for two hours under a late March southern sun that was hot today. Steve removed his hat and used his sleeved forearm to mop the sweat away from his face. He kept his keen eyes sharp for trouble, as the armed camp would need time to respond to any threat he signaled with gunfire. A Henry rifle, a fifteen-shot repeater, rested in a long sheath on his saddle. He was an expert with it and that was no brag, just a many-times-proven fact. Fingertips on his left hand grazed the butt of a Colt-Walker .44 and absently traced the initials carved there. He halted their movement and curled them into a tight ball for a moment as he frowned in the bitterness that never released him from torment.

  Ginny was exhausted. There wasn’t an inch on her body that didn’t protest this abuse. In spite of the wide-brimmed bonnet to shade her face, the bright sun made her squint, made her eyes and head hurt. Her flesh and clothes were damp and her face glistened with perspiration. The thick hair flowing down her back felt like a winter cloak. Tomorrow she would braid it as Steve had advised and hopefully be cooler. She wished she could wear short sleeves, but she knew the sun would bake her arms to a beet red. As for her riding gloves, they were too thin to provide enough protection from the chafing reins that had to be held tighter than a horse’s. Steve had warned of the danger of dropping them and losing control of the team. With dragging reins, if the mules bolted, a rider could be bounced off the high seat that lacked a safety grip.

  High? her mind scoffed. It was precariously high and rockhard and scary. Her booted feet used the jockey box below and forward of the seat to brace herself as best she could. She still didn’t feel secure, as the jostling of the wagon caused her to lose contact with her prop occasionally. Now that she knew what she was doing, she didn’t have to strain to concentrate on the arduous task. She could tell the long ride ahead was going to be monotonous and demanding. Thank goodness she had her four new friends, Mr. Avery, and—No, you don’t have Steve Carr. At that thought, her concentration vanished.

  Steve joined her and shouted, “Pick up your pace, Miss Avery! You’re lagging way behind!” As he moved his mount closer, he lowered his voice to a near normal tone. “I know you’re tired and bored. Practice staying alert; an accident can happen or you’ll get left behind if you’re in the rear. The others are in the same condition, but it’ll be worse on the trail when this goes on all day, day after day.” He galloped off before she could respond.

  Ginny scolded herself for breaking her promise not to get distracted. Steve had been justly annoyed with her. She flicked the reins, popped her whip, and shouted to her mules to increase their speed. In her rush, she was bounced about and feared losing her balan
ce and being thrown to the ground; yet she didn’t let up until the wagon was in proper position. Then she ordered herself to “alert.”

  She listened to the jingling of the harnesses, the snapping of traces against mule flesh, the squeaking of the wagon bed and underpinnings as she passed over bumps and dips, the rumbling of broad-rimmed wheels, the steady footfalls of twenty-four hooves, the breathing of her animals, the clinking of chains on the whiffletrees or those that linked two collars together, the shifting of extra wheels and tools beneath her location, and the ‘ yells of women giving orders to their teams.

  She watched Steve sit tall in his saddle as if he were born and reared in one. She saw him go from wagon to wagon as he gave instructions and encouragement or simply observed. If she didn’t get her eyes off him, she would be distracted and in trouble again, so she fastened her gaze to Ruby’s wagon.

  The one-mile walk later was agony to most of the women, Ginny included. This time, more of them than Mattie Epps groaned in protest, but Ginny kept her feelings to herself. She knew Steve was doing this for their own good, so she accepted the punishing task in silence and obedience.

  The exhausted women stayed closely bunched on this trek and all but two returned to camp together. As it was getting late, Ginny watched the scout head out by horse to ride in the two laggers one at a time: Mattie and Cathy. He delivered the whiner to her campsite first, then fetched the dark-haired beauty, who wrapped her arms tightly around his waist.

  So much for you get left behind if you can’t keep up! Ginny fumed.

  “Don’t worry,” Lucy advised. “She won’t steal him from you.”

  Ginny met her friend’s gaze and sighed. “I got into trouble again today; I suppose everyone noticed. My mind just drifted away for a while.”

  Neither woman saw Steve as he was about to round the Avery wagon, but halted when he overheard Lucy’s next words.

  “You want him, Anna. Can you leave him behind? Forget him?”

  “I have to, Lucy; I don’t have any choice in the matter.”

  “Yes, you do,” the woman refuted.

  “No, Lucy, I promise I don’t. Are you taking a bath before dinner?”

  “A cunning change of subject,” Lucy teased. “Yes, right now. Jeff is starting supper for me. With my youngest being nine already, my kids don’t take as much tending as those of the other women. Let’s go remove this sweat and dirt.”

  Steve scowled. The little southern belle was playing with him, but all women were natural and uncontrollable flirts. He had been right when he guessed she couldn’t be interested in a man like him. But she didn’t have to mislead him when she had herself a man being left behind!

  Ginny ate with Ellie and her family again, and helped do the dishes afterward. The circle of friends was too tired to visit with each other after their arduous day, so they said good night and went to their wagons.

  Ginny sat on two piles of bedding with her back supported with pillows so she could read for a while by lanternlight. To allow an air flow for coolness and for the dissipation of lamp smoke, she kept on her clothes and left the ends open and the sides pushed up a few inches.

  Her legs ached from the strain of bracing them on the jockey box. The bottoms of her feet hurt from the pressure against the rigid wood. Her body suffered as if every bone in it had been jarred and cracked and every muscle had been bruised and sprained. Her spine panged with torment every time she took a step. The backs of her upperarms, forearms, and wrists throbbed from the pull on them by the reins. Her fingers grumbled and stiffened from keeping her hands clutched tightly around the leather controls for hours and almost refused to hold the book she wanted to read. Her tailbone protested sitting on it, so she shifted her weight to lighten the load on the tender spot. That caused her buttocks to be vexed that another area was appeased at their expense. She wondered if sitting on a pillow would help prevent the painful bumping of vulnerable body against unyielding stone-hard seat. No, she decided, that would take away part of her already insecure balance.

  She had shielded her face and arms from the hot ball overhead so fortunately she didn’t have a sunburn to add to her misery. Despite the riding gloves she had worn, her hands felt bruised and sensitive; she guessed she would have blisters and blue marks on them by morning. She wished she had thicker gloves like some of the other women and Steve Carr wore as hers were too thin for adequate protection. She hadn’t known special ones were needed for handling the team. When Charles Avery visited during the week as promised, Ginny planned, she would ask him to bring her a pair. She also would request several pairs of pants for easier climbing aboard and working on the wagon’s high seat.

  After today, she understood what Steve had meant about eating dust. Upon return to camp, she.had dust in her hair, dust on her clothes, dust on her skin, dust on her eyelashes and in her eyes, and in every hollow it could find to sneak inside! She felt as if her nose was cluttered by it, even though she had used her washcloth to try to clear it of the tiny and sharp debris. She found grains inside her mouth, though she had rinsed it out many times and had eaten the evening meal. It was as if minute particles played hide-and-seek around her teeth and in the crevices of her mouth. The irritant had mingled with her perspiration to form grimy smudges when she mopped at the mess or tried to clear her stinging eyes. Though her bath had been refreshing, a longer one in a sudsy tub of warm water would have been paradise.

  They had worked in an area that was an equal mixture of grass and barren ground. It was surrounded mostly by pines and live oaks, both with lacy greenish-gray moss swaying from their branches. She had noticed patches of spring flowers and wished she could have halted to pick a bunch. But that foolish action would have fallen like a stone on the serious guide.

  Steve wouldn’t have caught her napping at the reins if she hadn’t been so lost in thought, so troubled by all her problems. But if she didn’t straighten out, she worried, he might tell her “father” she couldn’t travel west because she wasn’t well trained enough. That would be one way of getting her out of his sight if he felt as threatened by her as she did by him.

  Of course Charles Avery would not allow the scout to leave her behind. He had promised to get her to Texas, and he would. Mr. Avery, she believed, was an honest, kind, generous, and dependable gentleman. He was like a sweet and gentle uncle. On the ship and since docking, he had had plenty of opportunities to attempt to take advantage of her if her judgment wasn’t accurate. He hadn’t and she was certain he wouldn’t. The only threats she faced were possible discovery by her stepfamily or her father’s enemy, and a possible seductive siege by the irresistible scout. If he—

  “Miss Avery…” Steve called to her from the end of the wagon.

  Ginny lowered the book she wasn’t reading and met his gaze.

  “We need to have an understanding before this thing between us goes any further. You’re trouble, woman, for me, yourself, and for everyone.”

  Ginny tensed in dread, wincing as she pushed her tortured body to a sitting position. His grave tone and gaze told her she had misunderstood his opening statement; he was there to scold her, not romance her. “What do you mean? I do my share and try hard. I don’t complain.”

  “You’re too easily diverted, a daydreamer. You broke your word not to become distracted again. When you do, you distract me by having to correct you. When I’m distracted, everyone’s life is in peril.”

  Ginny’s eyes misted from her troubles and pains. She knew he was right, and he probably found this disciplinary chore as unpleasant to dole out as it was for her to receive. “I’m sorry, Steve,” she murmured. “If you’ll be patient and forgiving one more time, I promise to try harder. I swear it.”

  Steve experienced unfamiliar twinges. He wanted to comfort the girl in her physical and emotional anguish. But how could he when part of her torment was caused by losing the man she loved? Yet, and he couldn’t explain or grasp why, he didn’t want to be harsh to her tonight. She looked so vulnerable and she h
adn’t turned a page since she’d opened the book in her hands. She was deeply troubled, an emotion he understood too well. “I’ll give you another chance,” he declared.

  Ginny’s eyes brightened with joy. “Thank you, Steve. You won’t be sorry. I’ll make you proud of me.”

  “My feelings about you aren’t important, Anna; doing a good job is the only thing that counts.”

  “You’re wrong,” she refuted too quickly and strongly, then flushed.

  “You care what I think?” he queried, eyeing her for signs of deceit and crafty feminine wiles to dupe him.

  Her blush deepened as she admitted, “Yes, very much.”

  “Then prove it by being a perfect student from here on. Agreed?”

  “Agreed,” she said, and returned his smile.

  “If you’ll take that liniment from your father’s medicine crate and rub it all over, you’ll feel much better by morning. Don’t press too hard, though, or it’ll blister your delicate skin. I’d do it for you, but that isn’t part of my job and wouldn’t be proper.”

  Ginny was aroused by the thought of him smearing oily liquid over her body and massaging it in with gentle caresses. She cleared her throat to speak. “You’re very kind and thoughtful, and I appreciate it.”

  Steve leaned against the tailgate and murmured, “I don’t hear that said about me very often. Thanks.”

  “I would think you hear it all the time. You’re so smart and …” she hesitated.

  “Why did you stop? I’m starving for compliments from a lady.”

  “I don’t think it’s proper to tell you what I think about you.”

  “That bad, eh?” he questioned with a husky chuckle.

  With boldness, she said, “Not bad at all, only private, too personal.”

  Steve felt his loins respond to her subtle message and nearness. “A hint like that certainly gives a lonely man something to ponder on his bedroll at night…. I’m surprised you aren’t married by now.”