Ana Seymour (20 page)

At the edge of the crowd, Patrick began to applaud, and little by little others took up the ovation. Someone at the rear blew a piercing whistle of approval and Dorothy said fervently, “Amen to that!”

Kerry, a little embarrassed by her vehemence,
jumped down from the wagon, but she’d said her piece. Throughout the crowd, wives and mothers and sisters were busy whispering in the ears of their men, and when Frank collected the small scraps of paper, there were only two with black marks.

Jeb looked almost indifferently at the heap of crumpled paper in Frank’s hands, then around at the crowd. “All right. We’re getting a late start, folks,” he said. “I reckon we’d better get moving.”

It wasn’t until later that morning that he rode back to Kerry’s wagon to thank her for standing up for him.

“I can’t believe I had to,” she said, still indignant, holding the reins of the oxen as Jeb pulled alongside on Storm. Patrick was riding with the Burnetts. “You have a right to be furious with those men.”

“I can’t see that it would do much good,” he said. “As I told you last night, people get the crazies along about this point in the trip.”

“You seem so calm about it. Where’s the Jeb Hunter who frets himself into a headache whenever anything’s going wrong with his train?”

“He’s learning not to fret so much.”

Kerry leaned back against the seat, puzzled. “How’s he doing that?”

Jeb smiled at her. He’d been smiling all day, it seemed. “Maybe by realizing that duty isn’t the only thing in life, that it’s all right for a man to want something more. Happiness, for example.”

Now she was truly mystified. This simply did not sound like the stern wagon master she’d watched trying fiercely to take care of everyone’s needs for the
past several weeks. “Happiness?” she asked cautiously.

“Yes. Remember that first time I kissed you—you told me I was a wagon master, not a father.” She nodded. “I’’ve decided I’m not going to be everyone’s protector anymore. I’ll do my job to the best of my ability, and maybe somewhere along the line, I’ll start to think about having a life of my own again, too.”

“When did you decide this?” The wagon jolted into a rut. These weren’t ideal conditions for a discussion that she felt was extremely important to Jeb, perhaps to them both.

Jeb looked up at her from under the brim of his hat. “It might have been while I was watching you seek comfort on Haskell’s shoulder last night instead of mine.”

Kerry did a quick intake of breath. This definitely was not the place for this conversation. Jeb seemed to get the same idea, because he grinned at her, then tipped his hat and said, “You’ll have to excuse me, sweetheart, but I’ve got a wagon train to run.”

Then he rode away, leaving her watching his retreating form with sweaty palms and her heart beating a heavy accompaniment to the monotonous drone of the big oak wagon wheels turning beneath her.

The sight of it had caused a cheer to be passed along the ranks of the wagons. Independence Rock—the imposing gray granite structure rising one hundred feet above the level plain. And there beyond it—their first, heart-stopping view of the Rockies. Reach Independence Rock by the Fourth of July and your passage is a success, the veterans said. And just
as Jeb had predicted, the end of the prairie and the sight of the mountains rising before them, with their promise of riches beyond, gave everyone a new burst of energy and enthusiasm.

They would celebrate their country’s independence as well as their own in the shadow of the rock, they decided, camping the train along its six-hundred-yard length. Jeb had declared that the day would be a holiday, and the children had already abandoned their wagons to go play in the blessedly fresh Sweetwater River.

Many of the women had banded together once again, not for a political cause this time, but to plan a feast to delight appetites sick of dried vegetables and pilot bread. Several of the men had gone hunting and had returned with rabbits and dozens of sage hens, curlews and snipe.

When the children returned from their dunking in the river, they were sent out to harvest wild onions and garlic and dandelion and mustard greens. A patch of grapes was found growing right near the rock, and while several of the young boys carved their names alongside those of the settlers who had passed through there before, the girls picked the grapes and brought them back to their mothers.

Kerry was thoroughly enjoying the camaraderie of preparing the holiday meal with the other women. Even though they had not won the right to vote with the association, joining to make a statement about their feelings had brought them together in a way that few of them had experienced back East. Kerry had a feeling that what Eulalie had said back at Fort Kearney was the truth. There were winds of change
blowing in this new land they were adopting. The West would be a freer place for everyone, but especially for its women.

The holiday preparations also served to keep her busy, which was a good thing. Sitting perched on her wagon through the long, tedious days, she’d had far too much time to think and wonder. After his cryptic comments the day of the association vote, Jeb had not sought an occasion to be alone with her. He came to pick up Patrick each morning, and greeted her with a warm smile, but he’d not come to their campfire at night. He’d not called her sweetheart again.

Kerry was starting to believe that she had only imagined the comments he’d made that day. Had he really implied that he hadn’t liked seeing her in Scott Haskell’s arms? What had that meant, anyway? she’d asked herself impatiently. Probably nothing.

She’d been as ready as the rest of the emigrants for the morale-boosting sight of the Rock. She’d try to put Jeb Hunter out of her thoughts, she resolved. She’d enjoy the companionship of her new women friends and the celebration of the holiday. She’d think about the ranch she was going to build. And she’d do her best not to let her thoughts drift to the wagon master more than, say, four times an hour.

The women had outdone themselves. The makeshift tables were literally sagging with the weight of all the food. Fires had been stoked hot all day and the result was an endless array of goodies—pound cakes made from the precious butter that had been brought in brine-packed barrels all the way from Westport and jelly rolls made from the wild grapes the children had
gathered. Dorothy had made her special Southern gingerbread. The men ate until they were groaning and discreetly loosening their trousers, and the women looked on fondly and beamed.

It was as if their eleven weeks of backbreaking journey had never been undertaken. It was as if the equally long expanse that awaited them was years in the future. They were gay and silly and, for the moment, in love with life.

Kerry thought she had never laughed so hard. Daniel and Foxy, who had been forgiven by Jeb and had decided to continue on with the train into the mountains, had entertained them with more of their tall tales. And the children had put on an Independence Day pageant that included the Burnett twins and Patrick as the inalienable rights—Life, Liberty and Happiness.

As she joined in the applause at the end of their tableau, Jeb slipped to a seat next to her. “Inalienable rights. Do you think that’s what your father had in mind when he decided to take you out West?” he asked her.

She turned toward him. “I suppose so. Certainly the happiness part.”

“Mmm. That’s often the tough one.”

Kerry nodded. “Yes. How are you doing with it?” When he gave her a questioning look, she continued, “The other day you implied that you might be interested in some of that commodity yourself.”

Jeb smiled at her. “I said that?”

“Something like that.”

A cricket chirped right behind where they were sitting, startling them both into a laugh. “Now there’s
a cheerful fellow, for example,” Jeb said. “Do you suppose he’s happy?”

Kerry laughed again, feeling utterly happy herself. “I don’t know.”

Suddenly he was pulling her to her feet and away from the folks who were still seated around the makeshift stage where the children had presented their production. “They’re finished here. Let’s go for a walk,” he said. His voice was buoyant.

“I should help clean up the food,” Kerry protested, but Jeb pulled her along next to him.

“Let someone else do it. You can’t be responsible for everything that happens on this train,” he said, gently mocking some of her own past comments to him.

She stopped resisting and let him lead her away from the lights and along the edge of the big monolith. When they came to the end of it, he continued right on around the corner and led her around to the other side. The narrow rock was only about twenty yards wide. “That’s better,” he said when they had put the huge rock between themselves and the rest of the camp. He still held her hand at his side.

“What’s better?” she asked.

“This,” he said, and then he pressed her up against the cliff and trapped her there with an arm on each side of her head. His face was totally dark. She could see nothing of his expression as he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her. It was not a long kiss, but it was skillful and thorough. Kerry melted against the stone at her back. “God, I’ve been wanting to do that for days,” Jeb said with a small groan.

Kerry felt a smile growing from deep inside her. “Have you, now?” she asked with a touch of brogue.

“Yes.”

“And what’s been stoppin’ you, Jeb Hunter?” The smile reached her face, turning up her already sensitive lips.

“I’ve been doing some considering.”

She was still imprisoned against the cliff by his arms, though they weren’t touching her. “Considering?”

He nodded. She could see little of his expression, but behind his head the sky stretched out in an explosion of stars. “It’s going to take some getting used to, this happiness thing.”

“But you’re going to give it a try?”

He took a step closer to her and dropped his arms. “Yes,” he whispered.

“I’m glad,” she whispered back. And then neither one spoke for a long while as he pulled her into his arms and let their bodies press against each other while he kissed her again and again. After several moments he turned and braced himself against the wall behind them while he lifted her up against him so that her feet no longer touched the ground. She could feel the softest part of her body nestle against his hardness. And he continued his relentless kisses.

“How am I doing?” he asked finally.

She had trouble understanding his words. “Hmm?” she murmured.

“On the happiness. Am I starting to get the idea?”

She gave a little laugh and let herself slide down so that her feet could touch the ground again. “I think you’ve already gotten the idea, Jeb Hunter.”

He let her go. “You’re right about that. I’d give anything right now for a soft bed and several hours of privacy with you.”

“You’re not likely to get either, I’m afraid.”

He gave a little tug to the front of his trousers. “I can see that compromise might be in order here. How about a
wagon
bed and a number of long nights between here and California?”

His words made the flush of Kerry’s elation over being in his arms again begin to fade. Between here and California, he’d said. Jeb was not offering marriage. He evidently was relenting enough to admit that he wanted her, but not to believe that they had a chance at a life together. She rubbed her arms. “You forget I have a brother. And you have a train to run. I don’t think that it would look very good to have you sneaking into my wagon at night.”

Jeb’s face was now turned toward the half moon and she could see that he was smiling. “You don’t, eh?”

“No.”

“Which means you’re going to make me wait until after we can get to a preacher at Fort Laramie.”

“A preacher?”

“Or the fort commandant. I’m not particular who marries us, as long as it means that I get to start sneaking into your wagon every night. Legitimately.”

Kerry’s first reaction was a surge of relief. It wasn’t the most romantic proposal, but it was definitely a proposal, and now that he’d said it, she could admit that it was what she’d been wanting to hear for weeks. She put her arms around his neck and went up on her toes to kiss him, which received his immediate and
full cooperation. It wasn’t until long moments later that the doubts began to hammer at her. What would this mean to her plans, her promise to her father? Yes, Jeb wanted to sleep in her wagon—she wanted him there, too. But what else did he want? He’d told her that he never again wanted the kind of life he’d lost with his wife. Would he be willing to settle down and help her build her dream?

He sensed her sudden withdrawal and allowed her to pull herself away. She folded her arms and cocked her head, studying him. “So you sneak into my wagon every night, Mr. Wagon Master, but what about once the train arrives in California?” she asked. “What happens then?”

His expression turned serious as he took her cheeks in his hands and kissed her just once, softly. “Once we reach California? Now there’s a question. Have you thought about children on that dream ranch of yours, sweetheart? I think we should have three.”

Kerry’s eyes misted. “Three? I was hoping for four,” she answered him with a saucy smile.

“Four then. You see what a pushover I’ve become?” He lifted her off her feet and sank with her in his arms to the soft grass at the foot of the rock. “Would you mind very much if we got started right away?”

She kissed the end of his chin. “I wouldn’t mind at all.”

His hands had moved to her already hardened breasts and he was caressing them through the thin material of her dress. The tall grass blew around them as he began to unfasten her buttons. “One of these
days we
are
going to do this in a bed,” he said ruefully.

“I don’t care,” she said with a sigh, then gave a little gasp as his mouth found one sensitive nipple.

“Nor do I.” He chuckled. “At least not at this particular moment.” Then he made a little gasp of his own as her hand caressed him through his soft buckskin trousers. “That’s so nice, sweetheart,” he encouraged, which emboldened her to open the pants entirely and seek the warm hardness of him.