The Scarlet Thread (33 page)

made it down. That Event was a sign of other

catastrophies to come. The ropes pulled free of

Matthew Odell’s wagon and the whole lot went

crashing down the hill and made a sorry mess at

the bottom. The noise startled the horses. As our

luck would have it, Less Moore was in charge of

the watch over them. He is better with cards than

animals. Joshua and four others are still out

rounding them up.

It is near dusk and the men are lowering Stern

Janssen’s wagon. It is the last one. The rest of us

are camped in a hollow with many ash trees and

good water. I have supper cooking and have hung

wash on the wagon to dry. There is little wind

here which is a relief from the last few days up on

the prairie. I am tired of dust in my eyes and

mouth and under my clothes.

This was one hill and we have yet to face the

Rocky Mountains.

Joshua has returned. He said they found all but

three horses. The Best Ones. Sinnott’s Arabian

was not recovered. He will be fierce about its loss.

The other two were company bought prime stock.

Kavanaugh said the Arapahoe are a little richer

for our foolishness.

The hartshorn Doc gave Paul did no good. So

Kavanaugh made an indigo poultice for him. He

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said the Indians use it to draw serpent bites. It

may be too late. Paul is addled and doing poorly.

I gave him whiskey to ease his pain.

We buried Paul Colvigne at sunup. The company

voted to give his outfit to Matthew Odell.

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15

swim in the cove with Pamela and Reed. It was a perfect early

summer day, the sun high overhead, not a cloud in the blue sky.

Looking back toward the mainland, she could see the haze of

smog that lay over the metropolitan area of Los Angeles. Here,

she could fill her lungs with clean, sea air.

“It’s heaven, isn’t it?” Marcia said with a contented sigh as she

lay basking on a deck chair.

“Hmmmm,” Sierra said dreamily. How long had it been since

she had heard Clanton and Carolyn laugh or seen them having so

much fun? Clanton was trying to catch Ron. Each time he came

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of reach. The four children tried working together and still failed

to tag him.

“All I need is something to eat,” Marcia said.

Sierra turned her head. Reaching up for the railing, she started

to pull herself up. “If you’ll watch the children, I’ll—”

“No, no,” Marcia said, adjusting her dark glasses as she got up.

“I’ll see about getting lunch. Stay where you are. There’s not

enough room in the galley for two people. Besides, Ron didn’t

leave much to do this time. He called a caterer. All I have to do is

take off the plastic wrap. Stay and enjoy the sun.” She shrugged

into a lightweight hip-length terry-cloth robe that covered her

bikini. “Tom can help keep an eye on the children.” She flicked

the hat off his face. Grunting from the shock of sunlight, he

awakened abruptly. “I said you can help keep an eye on the children,” Marcia repeated. “I’m going below.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said.

“Go back to sleep, Tom,” Sierra laughed. “I’ll watch them.”

“Thanks,” he said and sagged back, picking up the hat and

putting it over his face again.

Ron came up next to the ladder he had put over the side after

dropping anchor. Shaking his blond hair back, he started to

climb. Sierra couldn’t help noticing he had a perfect body.

Looking away, she kept her eyes on the children.

“You’re getting burned,” Ron said, toweling himself off a few

feet from her.

“I put sunscreen on.”

“It probably washed off when you took that two-minute

swim,” he said, grinning.

Two minutes in the cold Pacific had been all she needed to

know she preferred toasting on the deck.

“You need another basting.” Ron uncapped a bottle of lotion

Marcia had left next to her deck chair. Squirting some into his

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palm, he rubbed his hands together and hunkered down behind

her. The scent of coconut and tropics filled her senses as he

rubbed the lotion into her skin. “Where’s your hat?” he said, his

strong fingers kneading her shoulders.

“I think I left it below.”

“Deliberate disobedience.” Unlooping the towel he’d put

around his neck, he covered her head with it. “I don’t want you

getting sunstroke the first time you sail with me.”

Laughing, she folded it up so she could see. “You’re worse

than a mother, Ron.”

He flipped her French braid over her right shoulder and

finished rubbing the lotion into her back and shoulders.

“You’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you?”

“Very much.”

His hands slowed. She felt his thumbs moving up her spine.

He gripped her shoulders. “It’s good to see you smile and mean

it,” he said. Releasing her, he straightened.

Marcia called for Tom and began handing up the food. There

was a large platter of cut vegetables and dip, another of sandwiches, bowls of potato and fruit salad, and bags of chips. “How

are we doing with the drinks?” she called from below.

Tom opened the ice chest that had been set on the deck when

they got under way. “We could use some more wine coolers.

We’ve plenty of everything else.”

Ron gave a piercing whistle, drawing the attention of the four

children, who were still splashing around in the cove. “Anybody

out there hungry?”

Four voices gave a short
yes!
and started swimming for the

boat.

“You’d better get what you want before they get here,” Marcia

said. “There’s something about swimming and salt air that seems

to triple the appetite.”

Laughing, Sierra rose from her post. The only one who hadn’t

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kept an eye on the children, who approached like hungry barracuda.

Clanton clambered onto the deck first. Shivering, he threw a

towel around himself. Taking a plate, he heaped it with two

sandwiches and two scoops of potato salad. Tucking a soda under his arm, he grabbed a bag of chips and headed for the bow.

Reed, Carolyn, and Pamela poured onto the deck and raced for

the food.

Ron laughed. “It’s like watching sharks in a feeding frenzy.”

“Take some vegetables, Reed.”

“Aw, Mom.”

“You heard me.”

Glowering, Reed took a couple of carrot and celery sticks and

put them on his plate before heading for the bow.

Shaking her head, Marcia glanced at her daughter and noticed

she was about to take a handful of potato chips. “Pamela,” she

said, sounding weary. “You know very well what grease does to

your complexion. No, take some of the fruit salad instead.”

Cheeks stained red with humiliation, Pamela put her plate

down and fled below.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Marcia said, annoyed. “I don’t know

what’s gotten into her lately.”

“I wonder.” Tight-lipped, Tom leaned down and took another

wine cooler from the ice chest.

Marcia raised her brow. “You’ve had four, Tom.”

“Then I guess this one makes five.” He headed for his deck

chair.

Marcia stared after him in consternation. Clearing her throat

softly, she glanced back at Ron and Sierra. “Well, I guess I’d

better go below and see what’s upset Pamela
this
time.” She gave

Ron a beseeching smile and whispered, “Would you please keep

an eye on Tom?”

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“He’s a grown man, Marcia.”

“Yes, but I think he’s had enough to drink, don’t you?”

Sierra noticed that as soon as Marcia went below, Reed

pitched the vegetable sticks into the water and dug into the bag

of chips Clanton had commandeered.

She and Ron shared a quiet lunch together, talking about

Outreach and some of the children they were helping. Tom fell

asleep in his deck chair while the boys rummaged through a

waterproof case on the deck where Ron had laid in a supply of

games. Carolyn sat with her legs dangling, waiting for Pamela to

come up from below. When she did, her face was splotchy from

crying.

“Mother says she has a splitting headache,” she said as though

delivering a rehearsed message. She picked up her plate and dutifully added a small scoop of fruit salad before she went to sit on

the bow with Carolyn.

Sierra went below and found Marcia rummaging through her

tote bag. “I know I brought them,” she said in frustration. Upending everything onto the couch built into the bulkhead, she

spread things out, searching again. Letting out her breath in relief, she picked up a small prescription bottle and uncapped it.

Shaking out two capsules, she recapped the bottle and dropped

it on the couch. Tossing the pills into her mouth, she headed for

the galley. Sierra heard the hiss of tonic being shot into a glass.

“I don’t know what to do about that girl,” Marcia said from

the galley. Sierra heard the thunk of a glass on the counter. “All

I’m trying to do is protect her. Children can be so merciless to

someone who’s fat and has pimples.” She came back into the

chamber and sat down on the couch built into the bulkhead.

She began to collect and toss the things back into her tote bag.

“She misunderstands everything I say to her. Sometimes I

think she does it deliberately in an effort to make me feel bad.

Either that, or she’s stupid.”

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elbows resting on her knees as she kneaded her temples. “And

now this headache. . . .”

“Can I get you a cold compress?” Sierra said, feeling sorry for

her.

“Please,” she said and stretched out on the couch.

Sierra went into the galley and dampened a cloth for her.

“Thank you,” Marcia said and pressed it against her eyes and

forehead. “Would you please tell Tom I’m not feeling well? I

must have a touch of sunstroke.”

“Tell her to take a nap,” Tom said when Sierra delivered the

message. Yawning, he pulled the hat down over his eyes again.

Clearly, he had no intention of going below and speaking with

his wife.

Ron went in his stead and talked with Marcia while the children went swimming again. Sierra leaned on the railing near the

bow and watched them.

When Ron came up again, he gave her a rueful smile and

shook his head. “Sorry to desert you.”

Sierra had enjoyed the solitude. She felt guilty that Marcia’s

problems made her feel less a failure for her own. She had always

thought Marcia’s family was perfect. She knew there were times of

tension, of course. What family didn’t have them? But what she’d

seen today was clear evidence that all was not well in Camelot.

“Is she feeling better?”

“She’s going to stay below and rest on the way back.” Ron

gave a loud whistle to catch the children’s attention. “Wrap it up,

mates. We’re hauling anchor in half an hour.”

Four children groaned expressively and went back to their

game of water tag.

Under his tutelage, the children, with Tom’s assistance,

manned the sails. When the wind caught the sheets, the boat

sped across the water toward the Long Beach pier. Closer in,

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