Ana Seymour (7 page)

J
eb could tell even from a distance that the Gallivans’ wagon was heavier than many that had crossed that day. Too heavy for a four-oxen team. And his worst fears were confirmed as he saw their animals balk once the load sank deep enough into the river mud. The veteran trail men who worked with Boone’s outfitters knew exactly what four-, six- and eight-oxen wagons could handle. They certainly hadn’t been the ones to overload the boys’ wagon. Which must mean that the Gallivans themselves had not sent back the extra equipment as they had told him.

He’d already started his horse toward them, furious and worried at the same time, when their team suddenly spooked, sending the wagon pitching to one side and the younger Gallivan tumbling into the river.

Typically, the immediate panic at the threat to one of his charges clawed at his throat. And just as typically, he fought it back and steeled himself to act coolly. Storm was thoroughly used to the water after their long day, and the blessed animal did not appear to be at all fatigued. He surged forward in response
to Jeb’s urging, bringing them up to the Gallivan wagon in mere seconds. But by then the swift current had already carried Patrick’s light body several yards downstream.

Jeb looked up at the wagon where Kiernan was standing in the listing wagon, his blue eyes wide with alarm. “He can’t swim!” he screamed. Then, before Jeb could caution him to stay where he was, he put his foot up on the edge of the seat and jumped into the water toward his brother.

For a moment, Jeb was paralyzed by the boy’s stupidity. Now instead of one boy to drag from the water, he’d have two. At least Kiernan knew enough to use the current rather than fight it, Jeb saw immediately, noting that the older boy was rapidly catching up to his brother. With a shake of his head and still fighting down that sick feeling of dread, Jeb pointed Storm downstream. Over on the bank he could see Frank Todd and the others running in the same direction. “What shall we do?” Frank yelled to him.

Jeb shook his head. The river was broad here without obstacles. If left unchecked the two boys could continue floating all the way back down to the Missouri. But the advantage was that there was nothing in the way to injure them. If they kept their heads, they should make it all right until he could get to them. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d fetched a sopping passenger out of the river on a crossing. The tricky thing would be to fetch two of them at once. It was lucky the Gallivan boys were slight.

Thanking the Lord for his steady horse, Jeb moved over to the shallow gravel and spurred Storm into a gallop that took him past the floating boys. Then he
pointed his mount once again into the middle, calculating the angle so that he would cut off their downriver progress. Kiernan had caught up to Patrick and the two boys were clinging to each other. He steered Storm directly toward them, then stopped. “Steady, boy,” he told the animal. “Get ready for a jolt.”

Hanging off the saddle from one leg, he leaned over the water and waited for the two boys to crash into them. There was a danger that the collision would knock both Storm and Jeb himself into the water as well, but there had not been time to formulate a better plan. The two bodies seemed to be rocketing toward them, faster than he had expected. He braced himself, then grabbed and lifted with all his strength just as they were about to hit. His actions diverted some of the force of the impact. Storm stumbled a little, but stayed on his feet. Jeb pulled himself upright in the saddle with the boys’ weight pulling him in the opposite direction like weights on a balance scale.

Patrick was sputtering and panicky, pawing at Jeb to get a firm hold. Kiernan seemed more in control and grasped the horn of Storm’s saddle to take some of the weight off Jeb. After a few seconds of struggle, Jeb was able to hoist the still choking Patrick around behind him to his accustomed seat. Then he turned his attention to Kiernan, who was draped stomach down across the front of the saddle, one hand still clutching the horn and the other on Jeb’s left arm.

“Is he all right?” Kiernan gasped in a high-pitched voice. Then the Irish boy made a quarter turn bringing his now clean features not more than a foot from Jeb’s face. And as he looked down at the body in his arms, Jeb’s eyes opened in amazement to see the cloth of
the boy’s shirt clinging unmistakably to two most decidedly feminine breasts.

Kerry saw the astonishment in his face at once. She flopped back over on her stomach, hoping that she’d been wrong about the sudden revelation she’d seen in Jeb Hunter’s eyes. But she knew that it was hopeless. Her soft, female body was sprawled most indelicately over one of Jeb’s hard legs. Her slender hand still grasped the fabric of his jacket. Her own oversize jacket had been ripped off her and carried away by the river. She might as well be naked.

She waited for an explosion, but Jeb merely pulled her more squarely across the saddle and started toward the far bank. Her brother was still coughing, and after a moment, Jeb asked, “Are you all right, Patrick?” His voice was tight with anger.

“Yes.” The coughs became muffled as Patrick struggled to control them.

Kerry wriggled around, trying to boost herself up from her uncomfortable position across the saddle horn. “Don’t move!” Jeb barked at her.

“Our wagon…” Patrick began with a groan.

“Your wagon’s got a broken wheel,” Jeb snapped. “It was too damned heavy.”

Both Patrick and Kerry remained silent the rest of the short trip across the river. When they reached the opposite bank, Jeb yanked Kerry’s arm up and deposited her unceremoniously on the ground. Then he reached behind him and, a little more gently, swung Patrick down. Finally, he dismounted himself, his eyes never leaving Kerry, who stood shivering, her wet clothes clinging to every curve. She looked wistfully out at the river as if hoping that her jacket would
come floating up to the bank so she could cover herself from Jeb Hunter’s withering glare.

Scott Haskell came up from behind her. “Are you all right?” he asked gently, draping a blanket around her shoulders.

“Yes,” she murmured, giving him a look of gratitude.

Other passengers had gathered around them, but Kerry was not too aware of their presence. Her attention kept coming back to Jeb Hunter’s light brown eyes. Someone brought a blanket for Patrick. “I’m sorry,” she whispered finally, trying to break the silence.

“It appears you have reason to be.” The coldness in the wagon captain’s voice sent another chill along her back.

“Now isn’t the time for this, Hunter,” Scott objected. “These two are freezing. They need to get warm and dry. Then you can talk.”

“I suppose you knew about this, Haskell?” Jeb asked angrily, waggling a hand in the general direction of Kerry’s front where her most obvious female characteristics had given her away.

“I knew that Kerry was a woman, if that’s what you mean,” Scott answered calmly. “I didn’t see a need to make a point of the issue.”

“Kerry, is it? So even the name was a lie?”

“The train doesn’t take lone women,” Kerry said. Now that her scare was over and she was feeling a little warmer under the blanket, she was more able to cope with Jeb Hunter’s anger. She’d anticipated a showdown with their wagon leader if her disguise was ever discovered. Well, the time had arrived. And
she’d be darned it she’d let him intimidate her into backing down.

“You’re damn right it doesn’t,” Jeb said. “And for many good reasons.”

Kerry pulled the blanket more firmly around her shoulders, took a step backward and looked Jeb Hunter squarely in the eye. “I’d be interested in hearing those reasons, Captain. But right now I’m more concerned with getting some dry clothes and trying to figure out how we’re going to get my wagon out of the middle of the river. So if you’ll excuse me…”

She turned her back on him and marched up the bank, looking tiny and bedraggled, the heavy blanket trailing along on the ground behind her. Jeb Hunter felt his gut twist. A woman. Damnation, what a development. A lone woman on his train. And not just any woman—one who wouldn’t listen to orders and who had a stubborn streak as wide as Kansas. One whose campfire he’d looked forward to sharing night after night. One who somehow, inexplicably, had already managed to creep a small ways into the black hole that was his heart.

The breakdown of the Gallivan wagon meant that the crossing would not be completed that day. The few wagons still waiting on the far side formed their own little camp for the night. Most of the men on the train volunteered to help Jeb, Scott, John Burnett and Patrick with the monumental task of emptying the disabled wagon. When Kerry had waded into the river on her way to help, Jeb had rudely spun her around by the shoulders and sent her back on shore. “The
men
will handle this,” he told her. “All I need is to
have you stumble on that bad ankle. It would break for sure this time.”

Kerry had looked to Scott for support, but for once he nodded agreement with Jeb. “You stay up on the bank, Kerry,” he told her. “You can organize the crates and supplies as we haul them up to you.”

So she’d stayed at the edge of the river, dry and warm, as a seemingly endless progression of her fellow wagon train members trekked back and forth ferrying every last box of her possessions to shore. It was a mortifying couple of hours, not helped by Jeb Hunter’s glares every time he caught her eye. By now he’d realized exactly how much she and Patrick had crammed into their wagon. He hadn’t yet commented on it, but she was sure that he would.

Finally, Frank and Scott led the Todds’ six-oxen team into the water and hitched them to the Gallivan team. A group of men shoved the wagon from behind and after forty-five minutes of struggle, the broken vehicle was pushed and dragged up on the opposite bank.

Kerry watched helplessly, biting her lip and fighting off tears. She was too preoccupied to notice that Eulalie Todd and Dorothy Burnett were standing just behind her. The older woman put a comforting arm around her shoulders and said, “It’s not your fault, honey.”

The sympathy almost made the tears fall, but Kerry blinked them away. “Yes, it is. The captain told me not to load the wagon so heavy, and I didn’t listen to him.”

Eulalie hugged her close. “The important thing is that you and your brother are all right. When you get
to my age, you begin to realize that things are of no consequence—it’s people who matter.”

“But I’m causing everyone so much trouble…”

Dorothy stepped to her other side and put her arm around her waist so that she was enfolded between the two women like a baby in a warm bunting. “You’ve helped out a lot of people on the train. They’re happy to be able to return the favor, Kiernan. Or…” She faltered a little. “It’s Kerry, is it?”

Kerry ducked her head and nodded. “I’m sorry I had to deceive everyone—especially you two. I wanted to tell you.”

She was surprised to hear mild-mannered Eulalie say in spirited tones, “Well, if they wouldn’t make these ridiculous rules against women doing things they’re perfectly capable of doing, you wouldn’t have had to go to all that trouble.”

“We know why you did it, Kerry,” Dorothy agreed. “And I must say I always thought you were much too helpful and good with the girls to be a male,” she added with a laugh.

“I appreciate your friendship,” she told the two women. “But I’m afraid our wagon leader isn’t going to share your tolerance.” She gave a great sigh. “And now he has good reason to be angry with me.”

The late-spring twilight had begun to darken and most of the men working on the Gallivan wagon had not yet had their supper. Jeb thanked them all for their work and told them that they would finish the repairs and bring the other wagons across in the morning. Kerry offered weak thank-yous as they began to disband to return to their own wagons, but most of them made no reply. Their stares were not hostile, exactly,
but it was obvious that they weren’t comfortable with her in her male clothing, now that she’d been revealed as a woman.

Patrick had been helping unload the boxes, but his usual boyish eagerness was missing. He looked small and crestfallen, and Kerry knew he was feeling almost as guilty as she was. All at once she wished they were back in New York City and had never heard of the Overland Trail or California. Maybe their father would still be alive if he hadn’t set out on such an arduous journey. She knew the notion was crazy, but at the moment she was too despondent to be logical.

Scott came toward her carrying a plate of beans. “You haven’t eaten, lass,” he said. He, at least, was one male who was not looking at her as if she was some kind of a freak of nature. She offered him a smile in gratitude, but shook her head at the plate. “I don’t want to eat anything.”

Scott took her arm and led her over to a big log that had been placed on the edge of the riverbank. “You’re too tired to know what you want, Kerry. But you need to eat. Sit,” he said, pointing at the log.

It was easier to do as he told her, so she sat and made a token effort to swallow some of the nearly cold beans he urged on her. “Thank you,” she mumbled.

Scott put one foot on the log beside her and leaned close. “I should warn you, lass. Jeb Hunter is furious with you.”

The news didn’t surprise Kerry in the least. “What’s he planning to do about us?”

Scott shook his head. “I don’t know, but he’s out
for bear. It might be wise to stay out of his way if you can.”

“I’d be happy to, but I don’t think he’ll let it get by that easily. In the first place, I disobeyed his express order, and in the second place, our whole position on this train has been a lie from the beginning.”

Scott smiled ruefully. “It doesn’t sound too good, does it?”

Suddenly she decided that she couldn’t swallow one more bite of the greasy beans. She handed the plate back to Scott and stood. “I think I might as well get this over with.”

“Get what over with?” Scott asked.

“The showdown. The scolding. Whatever it is our captain has in store for me. It’s not going to do any good to wait until morning.”

Then she squared her shoulders and headed up toward the wagons to find Jeb Hunter.