Remembered (40 page)

Jack suddenly had trouble breathing. He didn’t know how to respond to such honesty. Then he found he had to curb a grin when thinking about Christophe.
Poor fella
.

He’d forgotten how powerful the touch and taste of a woman could be. After Mary’s death, he’d asked God to take away that physical yearning, and for the most part, God had answered those prayers—up until now. Now it felt like God had stopped listening and had opened the floodgates.

Jack took the opportunity to look at Véronique, her head bowed again, her hands folded in her lap, and a tender passion threaded through him. Mary was gone, and he was a different man now—but the fact that he was experiencing this depth of feeling for another woman, after having been so blessed with Mary, just didn’t feel right somehow. He didn’t feel deserving, and he struggled with a sense of unfaithfulness. Guilt tugged him at that silent confession, no matter how illogical.

Véronique lifted her face.

Seeing the fragile look in her eyes, the trusting innocence, Jack knew he was going to have to tread carefully where this woman was concerned. He reached over and covered her hand on the seat between them. “About what I did back in that town, Véronique. I figured they might be a bit more respectful if they thought you were my wife. It wasn’t planned on my part, it just kind of came out. I’m sorry if that offended you.”

Her eyes narrowed playfully. “Offended—to cause difficulty, discomfort, or injury.” She gently fingered her chin. “
Non
, monsieur. I do not believe ‘offended’ describes the emotion I was feeling when you referred to me as your wife.” Her gaze went to his mouth, and she smiled.

Knowing he’d better get this wagon moving, Jack gave the reins a flick. Charlemagne and Napoleon surged forward, apparently eager to get back on task. Jack was mentally counting the hours back to Willow Springs when he remembered they still had another drop to make. It was later in the day and they were behind schedule. It would be well past dark, again, before they made it back down the mountain. He noticed an unhealthy pattern developing in that regard.

Sol Leevy’s parting comment returned to him, and he weighed the option of heading back to Willow Springs immediately. But with his schedule it would be two weeks or more before he could make another run to this area, and the town was overdue on getting supplies. He stopped the wagon again and retrieved his map.

“Do we not know where we are, Jack?”

He laughed at the unexpected question, and at how she’d phrased it. “Losing faith in me so soon?” He shook his head at the bland look she gave him. “I’m just checking the distance to the next town. The turnoff doesn’t look too far ahead. A couple of miles up the trail, maybe three.” This close, it made sense to go ahead and make the run.

She rubbed her arms.

“You cold?”

“A little.”

This was the opportunity he’d been waiting for. He set the brake and reached behind him for the package he’d tucked there earlier that morning. “Here you go.” He set the brown wrapped box on the seat between them.

“What is this?”

“Open it and find out.”

Her eyes gained a sparkle, and she ripped into the paper like a child on Christmas morning. She lifted the box lid. “Oh, Jack . . .” She glanced up at him, tears in her eyes. “It is beautiful.” She pulled the coat from the box and stood, holding it up against her. “And the color . . .”

“I tried to get a color that would match your eyes. Mrs. Dunston was wrapping it that day I ran into you at the dress shop.” He pointed to the sleeves. “She did some altering on it too, since she’s familiar with your size.” He stood and helped her put it on. The coat fell just below midcalf, right where Mrs. Dunston said it would.

Véronique ran her hands down along the sides. “How can I thank you, Jack? Your gift is so thoughtful of me.
You
are so thoughtful.” She put a hand to his chest and reached up to kiss his cheek. She lingered after, and Jack knew what she was lingering for.

He was going to need to speak with the Almighty about those floodgates. “I’m glad you like it. Listen, we need to be—”

“Getting back on the road?” she whispered.

He smiled at her humor. “Yes, ma’am, we do.”

She nodded, then paused. “What is this?” Her hand rummaged inside the right pocket of the coat. She pulled out the jar and read the label. “‘C.O. Bigelow Apothecaries of New York. Lemon Lotion.” ’ A brow rose.

“I bought it at the mercantile a while back, on a whim.” Jack shrugged. “I liked the way it smelled. . . . It reminded me of the prairie and the years I spent guiding wagons. But I’ve never used it, and I figured you might.”

She unscrewed the lid and sniffed. A most peculiar expression came over her face. Her eyes glistened. “This scent resembles a lotion I brought with me from Paris. My favorite, and that of my
maman
. I used the last of it shortly after arriving in this country.” She stared at him for a long moment. “
Merci beaucoup
, Jack.”

Longing to take her up on the offer in her eyes and the softness in her voice, Jack wrestled his attention back to the trail.

The wind had picked up a notch, and the sun ducked behind the clouds, before reappearing momentarily. He was debating whether to put the tarpaulin over the cargo bed when the first raindrop hit his arm.

By the time he had climbed back in the wagon minutes later, not another drop of rain had fallen. The gray skies were probably harmless enough, but at least the supplies were protected if the weather changed.

“Would you desire for me to drive for a while, monsieur?”

He tried not to laugh too hard. But with the reins in her hands and her tiny feet braced on the footrest, she almost looked like she knew what she was doing. “Sure,
mademoiselle
, I could use a rest.”

She gave the reins a hard flick and he was jolted hard against the seatback.

“I didn’t know you were serious!” He sat close, ready to grab the reins, but she was actually doing pretty well. And she seemed to be enjoying it, so he let her be.

Véronique giggled, keeping her focus on the road. “I tell you this now. . . . As soon as the trees leave us, I do not think it would be wise for me to continue.”

He knew exactly what she was saying. This part of the trail was shielded on both sides by thick stands of towering pine and aspen, with the occasional willow challenging their ranks. Their bowers met far above the trail to form a natural canopy that would be welcome if it rained. The view of the canyon, Jack’s favorite part of these trips, wasn’t visible yet.

The afternoon sun drifted behind some clouds, leaving the trail draped in shadows. They’d gone well over a mile when a tingling sensation crept up the back of Jack’s neck. The air seemed to thin, and he took a few extra breaths to clear his head.

He sat up a bit straighter and scanned both sides of the road, searching the shadows hiding behind the trees and crouching between the rocks and boulders. He watched for movement of any kind.

Nothing.

Perhaps it was only his imagination causing his heart to race, or maybe it was the weight of responsibility he felt for the woman beside him. Véronique didn’t appear to sense anything out of the ordinary, but he couldn’t shake the foreboding feeling.

Leaning forward, he rolled his shoulders and stretched, and as he sat back, he casually picked up his rifle from the floor of the wagon, not wanting to alarm her.

“You are tired,
non
?”

“No, not really.” He drew the gun up beside his left leg, pretty sure she hadn’t noticed. He blinked, not certain if his vision had hazed or if the shadows on the trail were playing tricks on him. He wondered if the closeness of the trail was bothering him, but he didn’t feel like he had back in the cave.

He spotted the turnoff ahead, leading up to the right. “Why don’t you let me take over here?”

She brought the wagon to a stop. “I have done well,
non
?”

“You’ve done very well.” He kept his voice lowered, and in the brief seconds following, he examined the silence and heard only the wind in the trees and the cry of a hawk he couldn’t see.

“Lilly taught me how to drive. I am only capable of going forward for now, but she and I have another lesson planned for later this week.”

“That’s real good. I appreciate you giving me a break.” He smiled and figured it came across as genuine by the looks of the one she returned. He took the reins and guided the wagon up the turnoff, glancing behind them as they went. It felt good to be driving again, and as the wagon ascended the path, his nerves eased considerably.

It was a steeper incline than he’d expected from the map’s notations, and Jack made a mental note to jot that on the drawing later. Looking ahead, he breathed easier when his side of the road opened to the canyon below. The slope angled down about ten feet to the first shelf, then dropped sheer off to the bottom of the ravine. “You can move closer, if you’d like.”

She came without hesitation, and looped her hand through the crook of his arm.

After going a ways farther, he finally attributed his earlier sense of foreboding to a case of nerves. Nothing more.

“You did very well in the tunnel of trees, Jack.”

He glanced down. “You knew?”

She smiled and squeezed his arm. “Mmm . . . at first, not so much. But then in your posture and the way you breathed, I knew something was not right.”

The woman was more observant that he’d given her credit for being.

Rounding the first curve in the switchback road, Jack saw the felled tree just before Charlemagne and Napoleon did. The horses reared, and the wagon jolted forward, then slid back until the horses regained their footing.

“Whoa!” Jack held the reins taut and searched the upper ridge. Sol Leevy was the first to come to mind, but there was no way Leevy and his men could’ve gotten ahead of them to do this without being seen. Unless he’d planned it beforehand, which didn’t seem likely under the circums—

A single raindrop hit Jack’s hand. Then another. He peered up into the steely skies.

CHAPTER | THIRTY - THREE

T
HE SKIES OPENED UP
and, within minutes, reduced the road to mud. Véronique wrapped her new coat around her upper body, thankful for the warmth and for how the water cascaded off the resilient material.

Holding her hand at her brow, she strained to see Jack’s face as he strode back toward the wagon. She needed to read his expression in order to know whether she should be alarmed, but the angle of his hat blocked her view. He approached her side of the wagon.

When he lifted his head, her stomach went cold.

“You need to get out.”

She could barely hear him above the rain. She began to climb down and had her boot situated on the edge of the buckboard when he lifted her in his arms and carried her to the side of the road. He set her down and she tipped her head back to see him. But when she did, the rain in her eyes made the effort useless, so she kept her head down. “Can the tree be moved?”

“Not without a saw and a good half day’s work.” He strode back to the wagon and pulled something from beneath the seat, then returned and draped the blanket over their heads. Surprisingly the cloth repelled the moisture, and the water ran in rivulets off the blanket’s edge.

“Do we not have a saw?”

“I’ve got one in the back, but I’ll need to unload some of the supplies in order to get to it.”

She looked up, able to see him now. Droplets of water clung to his stubbled jaw. “I will help you do this.”

A smile briefly touched his mouth, and disappeared. “I appreciate that, but I can handle that part. It’s cutting the tree and moving it out that’s going to take some doing. I can barely see two feet in front of me, and that’s a steep drop.”

“Charlemagne and Napoleon are able to help with this work,
non
?”

He took a moment to answer. “Charlemagne looks fine but Napoleon’s foreleg caught part of the tree when he reared up. It’s not bleeding too badly, but I won’t know for sure until I can see it better.” With one arm he held the blanket over their heads, and with the other he gently urged her to follow him. “I’ll get you situated, then come back and brace the wagon and see to the horses.”

She stopped. “I do not need to be situated, Jack. I told you I will help you do this.”

“Véronique, I’m not of the mind to argue with you right now. If the rain doesn’t stop, we’re going to be stuck out here most of the night just clearing that tree.”

While she could think of worse things than spending a few hours alone with Jack Brennan, being stuck on the side of a mountain in a rainstorm wasn’t at all appealing—not with the wind blowing as it was. “Neither am I
of the mind
” —she mimicked him as best she could—“to argue with you at this moment. I am simply offering you my services.”

He stared down, conflicting emotions warring on his face. “The temperature’s going to drop. It’s going to get cold. We’re going to be wet, Véronique. Please, just let me do my job.”

“
Oui
, that is what I am trying to do. Now how do we brace the wagon?”

His jaw muscles clenched. He shook his head and sighed. “With rocks. Same as what’s in that pretty little hea—” He made for the wagon, taking the blanket with him.

“
Pardonnes-moi?
I did not hear all of what you said.”

Véronique could see where to walk well enough, but the rainslicked trail combined with the steep incline made the ground slippery beneath her boots. She picked her way, taking one step for every three of Jack’s. Apparently his boots were better suited for this terrain than were hers.

Spotting him ahead, she went and knelt beside him and picked up a rock, then traced his path to the wagon. She could only manage a stone a third the size of his but planned to make up for it in quantity.

“Place yours there.” He pointed to the wheel. “Behind and around that bigger one. The rain’s going to wash out the dirt so we’ll need to pack them in there good and tight.”

She did exactly as he said, and by the time they’d gathered enough rocks for the front two wheels, she was exhausted.