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Authors: Judith Pella,Tracie Peterson

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BOOK: Separate Roads
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“Yes, Captain,” the older man replied, folding the paper. “I’ll make sure he knows what’s expected.”

The sergeant moved out, instructing a skinny private regarding the area he would be scouting. Rich knew this soldier would be Sergeant Hart’s choice. The boy had lived in and around Omaha all his life. He knew this prairie better than anyone. Hart would have been foolish to pick anyone else. The private studied the map for a moment, then saluted and headed his horse out.

The survey team consisted of five Union Pacific men. None of them were well-known to Rich. He had been introduced to the men in rapid-fire succession, with no one dwelling long on any particular man or name. He supposed it was just as well. He would learn enough about each man before their three weeks on the prairie concluded. Besides the men who were traveling mounted, there were two supply wagons and several pack animals for when the surveyors needed to get equipment into places wagons could not go.

Maneuvering his horse alongside the Baldwin wagon, Captain O’Brian touched the brim of his cap. “Morning, Mr. Baldwin. Miss Baldwin.”

Brenton greeted him warmly, but Jordana only nodded polite acknowledgment of his greeting, saying nothing. He wondered only for a moment what he’d done to cause her to be so cold and distant, but there wasn’t time to worry about it.

“I suppose you have some idea of the job you’ll soon be facing,” Rich asked.

“I believe we do, Captain,” Brenton replied. “We’ve been working pretty hard on our own for nearly two years.”

“Yes, but most of that time has either been in Omaha or east of the Mississippi. Is that not true?”

Brenton nodded. “I suppose you have a good point.”

“There is very little, if any, Indian trouble back east. Oh, you get an occasional renegade who causes trouble, but we both know it’s never anything all that serious. Out here, however, we are left pretty much to the mercy of the elements and the Indians.”

Brenton eyed Jordana for a moment, and Rich wondered if he might change his mind about bringing her on the trip. It wasn’t safe or reasonable to have her along, and Baldwin knew this. Rich could read the regret and apprehension in his eyes.

“We’ll be just fine, Captain O’Brian,” Jordana replied before Brenton could say anything. “You do your job, and we’ll do ours.”

Rich wondered once more at her cool tone. She had clearly placed a wall between them. “I don’t have a problem doing my job, Miss Baldwin. It’s just that you doing your job makes my job about ten times harder.”

She jutted out her chin, tilting her nose delicately in the air. “That, sir, is your problem.”

Later in the day, Rich observed that Jordana had changed her clothes to a full brown skirt and matching jacket. She had apparently wearied of the wagon and was now riding the sorrel gelding that had previously been tied to the back of their wagon. As she rode out away from the others, Rich thought it the perfect opportunity to seek her out and learn what had caused her to treat him with such indifference.

“You need to stay close to the others,” Rich warned as he came up beside her.

Jordana acknowledged him with a glance but said nothing.

“Look, I don’t know what I’ve done to irritate you. I only mentioned you remaining in Omaha for your own safety. Forgive me if that seemed less than gallant of me.”

She turned to glare at him for a moment. “I am sure you are quite gallant, Captain. I just don’t happen to need anyone acting on my behalf. I’m here simply because my brother couldn’t bear the idea of leaving me alone in Omaha.”

“And he has a good point in his worries,” Rich replied. “It’s just that bringing you along on this trip is hardly much better.”

She shrugged. “I tried to tell him I was fully capable of caring for myself, but he refuses to see me as a grown-up.”

Rich chuckled, which he quickly learned was the wrong thing to do. She frowned at him and resumed her stiff posture before replying, “I should have expected that of you.”

“Yes, you should have,” Rich replied, quite unwilling to show her any pity. She didn’t need pity, as he saw it. Maybe a good spanking, but not pity. They were nearly twenty yards off to the right of the rest of the group, and Rich felt confident he could bring up the past without further discrediting her before her brother. “After all,” he continued, “I’ve been there for your encounters with other less-than-honorable men.”

“So you walked with me back to Omaha. It’s not like I couldn’t have done that on my own.”

“What about the alley and the attacker you faced?” he asked.

He watched her bite her lower lip, a nervous habit he’d observed of her on more than one occasion. When she did this, she looked very innocent, almost childlike, but that’s where any idea of Jordana Baldwin being a child ended. She was a comely woman, and he’d seen men, even his own men, look at her with a clear mind to her beauty and shapely figure.

“I suppose, Captain, that you will be throwing these things in my face for as long as time continues to put us in each other’s company.”

“It wasn’t meant as something to throw in your face, but since you are the one who is intent on proving your independence and ability to take care of yourself, those are situations you must consider.”

She nodded. “I realize that. And I have considered them.”

“To what conclusion?”

“I believe I shall purchase a gun for my protection.”

Rich rolled his eyes heavenward. “God help us all,” he said in complete reverence. “Miss Baldwin, do us all a favor, but especially me, since I am the one who generally bears the brunt of your heroic efforts to right yourself of injustice—do not buy a gun.”

She looked at him as if he’d spoken in a foreign language, then began to grin. This was soon followed by her laughter.

Rich smiled in spite of himself. It was the first time she’d shown any merriment since they’d left Omaha. “Laugh all you want, Miss Baldwin, but I’ve been shot before.”

“So have I, as you will recall,” she said, still smiling.

“I have no desire to face the contents of the blue bottle,” he said, matching her good mood, “nor the humiliation of being shot by a woman.”

“Well, a young woman has to protect herself.”

“Yes, especially when that young woman is you,” Rich replied. “Very few other women have a tendency toward knives or clubs.”

“But if I had a gun,” Jordana stated, appearing to think the matter through quite seriously, “I could protect myself. My father taught me something of shooting when I was young. In fact, I’m a better shot than Brenton. His eyes are weak, you know.”

“You are dangerous, Miss Baldwin,” Rich said in a low, husky tone. “Most dangerous.”

She smiled, appearing to quite like the sound of that. “Then no one should worry overmuch for my safety, for surely such danger will ward off many who might think to tangle with me.”

Rich nodded and added, “Or the challenge of beating you out will bring them in droves.”

“Are you a God-fearing man, Captain?” she asked out of the clear blue.

Rich wondered at her line of questioning but decided there was no harm in answering. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. Why do you ask?”

“Because I am a God-fearing woman. I believe completely in His power to keep me from harm and in His ability to steer me out of dangerous paths.”

“And how do you suppose God does this, Miss Baldwin?”

She looked at him oddly for a moment. “What do you mean?”

“Just what I said. How do you suppose God keeps you from harm and steers you out of dangerous paths?”

“Well, by showing me what’s best and teaching me what’s harmful.”

“Like staying out of dark alleys or not taking rides with young men in an unescorted fashion?”

She frowned and turned back to study the landscape of tall prairie grass.

“I merely mention it,” he went on, “because it seems to me, in order to be shown or taught, one has to be willing to observe and listen. I would suggest that God does strive to teach you, Miss Baldwin, but if you’re unwilling to heed His direction, how do you propose to remain out of harm’s way?”

Just then the scout returned, and Rich’s attention was taken elsewhere. “Forgive me, but I must go check in with my men.” He touched the brim of his cap and gave Jordana a brief smile. He could tell by her expression that his words had found their mark. She didn’t respond with a snide or ludicrous comment. She merely considered his words, appearing to realize their importance.

“Oh, and I might add, riding astride rather than sidesaddle isn’t exactly the best way to maintain a low profile,” Rich added.

Jordana frowned. “Is there any possible hope that I might be left to live my life
my
way, without some man coming along to rebuke me for my choices?”

O’Brian laughed. “Where you are concerned, Miss Baldwin, I would imagine anything is possible.”

——

Later, as they set up camp along an ample creek, Sergeant Hart found Rich brooding over Jordana.

“If I didn’t know better,” Hart drawled, betraying his southern roots, “I’d say your mind is given to thoughts of our young miss.”

Rich smiled and motioned Hart to join him. “Now, Wes,” he said, letting the formality between them drop, “you know full well that would be completely out of character for me.”

Wesley Hart laughed. “Yes, it would be. But I’ve seen stranger things happen in this world.”

“So have I,” Rich replied. “I suppose I admire her gumption. She’s intelligent and brave. Of course, she’s also a little flighty and easily riled.”

“You’ve just described many women. What makes this one so special?”

Rich shook his head. “I’m not sure I know the answer to that question.”

“I’m thinkin’, Captain, that you’ve lost your heart to this one, and that’s what makes the difference.”

Rich looked at Wes and saw the glint of amusement in his eyes. “It would be a disaster if I had,” he said firmly, but in his heart he realized how close Wes was to the truth of the matter. “There’s no room for a female in my life,” he added quickly, before taking himself off to check on the rest of the party. “No room at all.”

“Better clear out a corner, Captain,” Wes called after him.

Rich shook his head. His relationship to women in the past had proven most harmful—especially to them. He had simply thought to offer this young woman friendship. She seemed so needy of it. But perhaps Miss Baldwin had been right. Men and women couldn’t be friends without one or both losing their hearts in the matter.

He stopped just outside the camp and caught sight of her as she cooked over an open fire. She appeared completely at ease, unconcerned with her rugged setting or the lack of comforts. Just then the hem of her skirt touched the edge of the flames and in a flash caught fire. Rich began to run toward her but then stopped as she calmly doused the fire with a nearby bucket of water. She inspected the damage for a moment, pulling her skirt up to reveal shapely legs. She glanced up to catch Rich watching her and quickly dropped the skirt back into place.

She shrugged in a nonchalant manner as if it were quite normal to catch one’s dress on fire, then went back to work as if nothing had happened.

She must have one weary guardian angel, Rich thought, turning his attention elsewhere. Then letting out a heavy sigh, he knew he was in for a long and tiresome trip. Make a corner, indeed, he thought, remembering Wes’s words. Jordana Baldwin wouldn’t need a corner, she’d need an entire room—or in the case of his heart, she was the type of woman who would spread out to fill every conceivable nook and cranny. It would take a stronger man to keep her in line than he knew himself to be.

22

Can we talk?”

Jordana looked up to find her brother standing nearly ten feet away. She had taken the quiet moments of the early morning to separate herself out from the others to sit on the creek bank and contemplate her existence.

She nodded and waited for Brenton to take a seat beside her. He looked so tired and worn in spite of their night’s sleep inside the wagon. The thunderstorm that had kept them awake for part of the night had moved off to the northeast, but already another rain seemed certain.

“What did you want to talk about?” she asked, shifting her gaze back to the creek.

BOOK: Separate Roads
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