Bound For Eden (12 page)

‘He always holds his meetings here,' she had confided in Alex and Victoria when she led them through to the room. ‘Such a lovely man.'

‘Isn't he?' Victoria agreed with a sigh.

Alex had to restrain herself from snorting. Lovely man, my foot, she thought sullenly; he just knows how to wind every female of the species around his little finger. Just look at him now, up there at the front of the room, comfortable with every eye upon him, oozing charm, making sure to make eye contact with each and every one of them. She was gratified when he blinked, startled, as he met her evil stare. Not everyone is taken in by you, she snarled silently.

She was so busy with her evil thoughts that she didn't hear a word he said. She supposed it didn't matter, as Luke himself had helped to outfit them, but she found she couldn't join in any of the conversation afterwards. Then again, no-one really expected her to – they all thought she was just a child. She even found herself ushered over to the table set up in the corner for the children. All of them were between the ages of five and ten, except for fifteen-year-old Jane O'Brien, and they amused themselves by torturing one another and throwing food.

Alex didn't like the way Jane was looking at her. ‘How old are you?' the girl asked. She was one of three sisters and had big brown eyes and a smattering of freckles across her nose.

Alex cleared her throat; she was still uncomfortable with lying. She was almost twenty, but she forced herself to say, ‘Sixteen.'

‘You don't look sixteen.'

‘I'm taller than you.'

Jane gave her a shy look through her eyelashes and Alex's heart sank. She knew that look. It was the look Victoria kept giving Luke. Fortunately, Mrs Tilly chose that moment to deliver plates of sandwiches and pastries to their table. ‘I know you children aren't too fond of tea, so I've made a nice batch of lemonade. With extra sugar.' She gave them a wink.

‘Do you think I could have some tea, please?' Alex asked politely.

‘Me too,' Jane said quickly. ‘After all, we're really not children any more.'

‘Of course not,' Mrs Tilly agreed, beaming at them and clucking like a mother hen. ‘I'll bring over a pot.'

‘Where are you from?' Jane asked, and Alex looked longingly at the other table, where the adults were getting to know one another. Victoria was sitting between Adam and a bookish-looking man, but she was desperately trying to catch Luke's eye.

Luke was too busy talking to a bunch of the men to notice.

‘That's my father,' Jane said, following Alex's gaze, and Alex realised she meant the bookish man next to her sister.

‘I'm with Victoria and Adam. Next to him.'

‘You're family? You don't look like them.'

Alex wondered how on earth she could tell, what with all the muck Alex had smothered on herself. ‘I'm adopted,' she explained shortly.

After another few minutes at the children's table, fending off cucumber sandwich missiles and Jane's attentions, Alex just wanted to leave. But she could tell by the stubborn look on Victoria's face that she was planning to stay to the bitter end, in the hopes of catching a moment alone with Luke.

‘You're in a foul mood today,' a voice drawled from above, and she looked up into those horribly familiar black eyes.

One of the boys chose that precise moment to hurl a strawberry tart at her; it landed with a wet squelch against her cheek and the table erupted into giggles. ‘I can't imagine why,' Alex told him dryly, wiping strawberry jam from her face.

‘I suppose now that you're . . . all grown up . . . you think you don't belong with the children.' His eyes were twinkling and she knew by ‘all grown up' he was referring to the experience he assumed she'd had with Dolly.

‘Oh, Mr Slater,' Jane exclaimed in her defence, ‘there's an awfully big difference between ten and sixteen.'

‘Sixteen?' His eyes narrowed dubiously as he considered Alex.

She set her jaw stubbornly and stared right back at him. ‘Nearly seventeen.'

‘That's practically a man,' Jane said earnestly.

‘Jane and Alex sitting in a tree,' her younger sisters, Susan and Ellen, chorused in singsong voices. Jane picked up the splattered strawberry tart and threw it at them.

Luke laughed at the long-suffering expression on Alex's face. ‘I came over to get you, runt. I want you to show the Watts brothers the way to our
friend's
place.' He lowered his voice significantly and Alex realised he meant Dolly's cathouse.

‘I wouldn't mind a walk . . .' Jane hinted.

Both Luke and Alex looked at her, horrified.

‘Ah . . . I've got to feed our animals right after,' Alex lied.

Jane's face fell. ‘But you'll be at the dance tomorrow night?'

‘I guess so.' Victoria had spent the last two days trying to convince Alex it was safe to go.
They think that you abandoned us and are heading east,
her sister had said as she happily sewed her new dress.
What's the bet they're on a steamboat this minute, heading back to St Louis.
Alex wasn't convinced. But they were about to leave civilisation for a good long while and she didn't have the heart to disappoint her sister. She could only hope that when Gideon found no trace of a blonde woman spending his gold here in Independence he would follow the rumour east.

Jane gave Alex a shy smile as she rose from the table. ‘Maybe we could have a dance?'

‘I don't dance.'

Luke laughed and clapped her on the shoulder. ‘He's just being modest, Miss O'Brien. Alex is a great dancer – he'd love to dance with you.'

Alex took care to tread on his foot as she passed him, and resolved to tell Seline that he wanted to see her tonight. And then she might tell Flora, Margaret and Gracie the same thing. We'd just see how he liked dealing with the four of them.

‘Your sister ain't spoken for?' Henry Watts asked Alex curiously as she led them to Dolly's. Alex gave him a sour look. She didn't appreciate him asking after her sister when he was off to visit a whore. ‘She sure is pretty,' he said.

‘Sure is,' his brother Joseph echoed. ‘And not in an obvious way. She looks like a real decent girl.'

‘She is,' Alex said shortly.

She didn't go into Dolly's when they got there. She watched them mount the front steps and then turned and dragged her feet back to the hotel. Victoria and Adam weren't back yet. She lay on the bed and stared at the water stains on the ceiling. She felt tangled up and out of sorts, and for once it had nothing to do with the Gradys, or with finding enough food, or with getting them out to Oregon. All she could think about were the swirling currents of a wicked black gaze . . .

She turned her head and saw Victoria's new yellow dress hanging from the door. It was simple but very pretty, the cheery colour of sunshine and buttercups. It would suit Victoria's colouring tremendously. Alex pictured her at the dance, a graceful sunbeam, pretty and feminine, twirling around the floor . . . led by strong muscular arms. Her chestnut hair would be pulled up into a loose cascade of curls – or maybe she'd even wear it down, the way Alex no longer could – and she would stare blissfully up into those tender, teasing, seductive eyes.

Alex's insides twisted with jealousy. If only she could dance with him. She closed her eyes. She could imagine the way his hands would feel on her body . . . only she didn't need to imagine, she thought with a sigh. She knew how it felt.

It felt like heaven.

Twelve

Everybody in Independence turned out for the Saturday night dances. Almost weekly there was a new batch of wagoners about to head out, feeling merry and ready to kick up their heels.

The town square was hung with paper lanterns and lined with stalls selling ale, lemonade, sandwiches, corn on the cob and cakes. Children ran squealing through the dusky lavender twilight as the band tuned up on the courthouse steps.

Victoria looked prettier than she ever had in her life. Her chestnut hair hung straight and glossy to her waist, adorned with a blue satin ribbon. The yellow dress fitted her like a glove and made the most of her slender figure, and the colour made her skin glow. Alex was green with envy. Not that anyone could tell – the green tinge to her skin was well camouflaged by the dirt.

The members of their party had claimed a trestle table under the large sycamore, and Alex watched them greet Victoria warmly. The single men snatched their hats off their heads and practically tripped over one another in an effort to offer Alex's sister a drink, a seat, a sweet, or their hand for the first dance.

No-one even noticed scruffy old Alex.

At least no-one except Jane O'Brien. ‘Oh, you came,' she exclaimed, blushing prettily. ‘I wasn't sure you would. You look . . . nice.'

Alex looked down at herself and wondered if the girl was blind. Then she noticed the way Jane was plucking at her own blue dress and realised that she was expected to return the compliment. ‘You look nice too,' she said glumly.

‘Would you like to take a walk and get some lemonade?'

‘Jane.' Ned O'Brien was striding towards them, giving Alex a hard look.

Jane started guiltily. ‘Oh, Daddy. Alex and I were just going for a walk.'

Ned shook his head. ‘I'd like to talk with young Mr Alexander, if you don't mind.'

‘Oh, Daddy,' she sighed, but she obeyed. Alex noticed she kept shooting wistful glances back over her shoulder as she went.

‘Now,' Ned said, looking deep into Alex's eyes, ‘I don't want you to get any ideas regarding my daughter.'

Alex flushed, feeling inexplicably like a criminal.

‘She's very young and she's led a sheltered life. She doesn't know how forward she can seem.'

‘No, sir,' Alex mumbled.

Ned cleared his throat. ‘I saw you at,' he lowered his voice, ‘
Dolly's
the other day.'

Alex wished the ground would open and swallow her up.

‘And I can't say that I approve,' the easterner continued, ‘but I'm not your father. What I will say is that we have a long trip ahead of us, and I expect you to treat my daughters the way you would treat your own sister.'

Alex felt as though the dirt had soaked through her skin. She'd never be able to clean it off. Not only did people look at her and see a scruffy boy, they saw a scruffy reprobate, the kind of person no decent parent would let their daughter associate with. How ashamed Ma and Pa Sparrow would be of her, let alone her own parents. All of them must be turning in their graves. Alex slunk to the table, feeling like the lowest of the low.

‘Why, Miss Victoria,' a smooth voice said, sliding through Alexandra's funk, ‘aren't you a sight for sore eyes.'

Alex couldn't believe the change in him. She'd never seen Luke Slater dressed up before. The man looked wonderful in rumpled travelling clothes, incredible in his everyday wear, magnificent wearing nothing at all, but there just weren't words to describe him when he was dressed up in his best suit.

The cut of the jacket made his shoulders seem wider and his body longer and leaner, and the brilliant white of his shirt made his skin look very dark. He'd had a haircut, Alex noticed, and a close shave. Somehow, he looked even more masculine now that the high cheekbones and strong jaw were smooth.

Alex was having trouble breathing. And so too, she realised, was Victoria.

Luke took her sister's hand and lifted it to his lips. Alex couldn't tear her gaze away. ‘You look pretty as a picture in yellow.'

Alex wanted to scream. How could he look at her sister that way? After . . . after
what
, she thought scornfully. After he looked at you with those hot black eyes, when he thought you were a whore?

But she couldn't help the acid feeling in her stomach when she watched Luke lead Victoria onto the makeshift dance floor. She was mesmerised by the sight of his large brown hand on her sister's buttercup yellow back, and by the flirtatious smile he aimed down at her. What was he saying? What was he whispering in her ear? Oh, it wasn't fair. She just bet if she had come dressed in a yellow dress Luke wouldn't spare Victoria a second glance. It was a mean thought, but Alex couldn't shake it. Mentally, she ran through the dresses she owned – her old blue, the dove gray, the muslin sprigged with bunches of pink roses – and imagined prettying herself up and coming down to the dance. What would he think? Would he ask her to dance? Would he want to kiss her again?

‘What's got you smiling like a halfwit?' Luke asked her as he joined them at the table. Sebastian Doyle, the driver of the chuck wagon, had claimed Victoria for the next dance.

‘Nothing.' Alex tried to compose herself. She was dreadfully aware of Luke's thigh brushing against hers on the narrow bench.

‘She's a mighty fine dancer, your sister.'

Alex grunted.

‘Your brother ain't bad, either.' Luke nodded to where Adam was enthusiastically squiring five-year-old Ellen O'Brien. ‘How come you're not out there? That Jane seemed pretty keen on you.'

Alex gave him a dark look and he laughed. ‘I know it ain't because you're too young for girls,' he teased.

Alex wanted to kick him.

‘I'm going to get an ale. You coming? I'll buy you a lemonade.'

She went, despite her violent feeling towards him. They joined the Watts brothers at the stall. ‘Our shout,' Joseph insisted, already lugubrious with drink.

‘He's a little young,' Luke protested when Joseph handed Alex a glass too.

‘I'm not that young,' she said, irked. She was mighty sick of him treating her like a child. After all, he hadn't thought her childish when he'd come upon her half-naked at Dolly's. Oh no, he'd had no qualms about her age then. She took the ale defiantly.

Luke shrugged but still looked disapproving. ‘Don't come complaining to me when your head hurts tomorrow.'