Bright Morning Star (14 page)

Frightened, she screamed for Henry. He rode thundering directly through the cane stand, tearing his shirt to reach her. He was even angrier when he found her mounted astride the horse. She hid her mouth to keep from pointing out his shirt was torn. His arm was exposed, too white for someone who rode in the sun every day. Most of the other men were brown like Bonnie.

He wasn’t amused by her laughter. He looked ready to shake her for scaring him so much. In the distance they saw the train moving their way. Henry pulled at the wide swatch of ripped fabric on his sleeve, watched it wave like a white flag as he raised his arm to signal the wagons.

“If we ride back, I can sew and mend your shirt when we reach my wagon,” Claire said.

“No need, Bella will take care of it,” he answered. “Besides, didn’t I hear your other suitors tell you they’d be calling on you tonight? You might want to wash your face and comb your hair before they arrive, the bank of the stream is through that cane break.”

Claire stared at the broken reeds, looking dubious. Swearing again, Henry handed her his canteen and ripped the rest of the sleeve to hand her to use as a washcloth. At any other time she would have refused. But there was no way she was riding through that brush, and he had reminded her of two good reasons she should primp.

So what if he had a wife to sew his shirts, adjust his neckties, and scold him, among other things. Claire took the cloth wet it and did a thorough job of cleaning her face, neck and ears. Then she held it out away from her horse, to use more water to rinse the dust from it. She passed both back to Henry, ignoring the rapt way he was watching her.

She struggled with her hair, only managing to repin it enough to stuff beneath her dangling bonnet. Oh dear, if she didn’t watch, she would be as boiled red as an Indian.

Riders from the wagon train thundered up to them, looked around and smiled at Claire, who brightened again at the warmth of their looks. If they didn’t like what they saw, they didn’t shower her with disapproval like Henry. When one of the men offered to help her dismount, she accepted gratefully.

Henry pointed out where the stream was to the other man, and together they rode their horses back and forth, breaking down the barrier of the cane break.

As soon as her feet touched down, Claire was reminded of her pinned skirt and inappropriate position riding astride. Quickly she tugged the hem loose from her waist and stepped away to walk and force the skirt to fall full around her hips and legs.

“Wish you hadn’t done that,” James Temple said. “Was hoping to get a better look at you in your riding get up. Saw you riding that way once before, the day you called on Dorothy Brewer.”

Claire looked around, nervous to be alone with this young man. She had always been properly chaperoned before. He stepped closer and she backed out of reach until she collided with the side of Bob’s warm neck. There was something in the way James was grinning at her that made her duck beneath the horses’ neck so the man was on the other side from her and the horse was between them. Raising on tiptoe, she continued to talk to him as he leaned boldly on top of the saddle and smiled down at her. Once again, Claire was reminded that she didn’t like tall men. At 5’10’ he was the same height as Bonnie, two inches taller than her Father or Henry.

She was trying to think of what to say that was appropriate to wipe that look off his face when Henry and George crashed up from the creek. George was talking, something about, “yes, this looks like a great spot. Look at all this grass.”

Henry seemed pleased that someone finally respected his opinion, then he saw the way James Temple was ogling a blushing Claire. The fool girl, if someone didn’t watch out for her all the time she was going to be bedded and wedded before they reached Utah.

“Claire, do you need a boost up so you can ride back to your parents’ wagon?” Henry called.

Claire turned to look at him, annoyed by his tone of voice. She had just been thinking of how to manage that very thing before he arrived, but there was something about his condescending tone that made her determined not to obey.

She stepped back from the patient gelding she had been using for a shield and shook her head. “They will be here in a few minutes. I think I should gather firewood and be ready to start the campfire when they arrive.”

“I can help you,” James offered. At Henry’s glare, she shook her head. “Do you think you and George might catch a few more nice fish for us tonight?”

“This time of day, I doubt it. But we’ll try again in the morning if you like. Those boys with you, Tom and Jim, they made us promise to show them how it’s done.”

She continued to talk as she walked toward the tree line. “They told me about it several times already today. Well, everyone will be here in a short while. Excuse me, gentlemen.”

Claire dropped a curtsy as though she were meeting the men at morning mass. It had the right sobering effect. They nodded and tipped their hats and George even bowed.

She was very much aware of being watched by all three as she walked toward the small growth of brush and carefully scanned it before picking up a few broken branches and making a small pile. They were all talking, although even from a distance she could tell that Henry disliked what they were saying. He seemed to prefer arguing with everyone.

Until the wagons arrived, there was no way to know where their campfire would be. Unlike most of the areas where they circled the wagon train, there would be no marked fire-pits. She called to the men as soon as she thought of it. “Maybe you could find a few flat rocks by the stream. Everyone will need one for their coffee pot beside the fire.”

When she moved back into the open and looked around, she was surprised to see Henry still standing there, holding the reins of the four horses. The others were doing as she requested and looking for stones. She wanted to smile at the curious look on his face. It was as though he was trying to decide something, but all he was doing was staring at her.

<><><>

In the days that followed, Claire had her hands full, keeping James at a distance. She did it by using teasing chatter about the other girls the boys were calling on, the Brewer cousins. “I thought you and George had made up your minds on who your favorites were.”

He looked confused, but Claire laughed as she said, “Oh come on, James, Bonnie and I watched both of you walking around with Dorothea and Faye.” For the first time in over a week she included Bonnie in the conversation without feeling a pang for her. She realized that like the others, she now believed Bonnie was safe and would return as soon as they let Calum Douglas know to go search for her.

“I’d rather walk out with you, but your chaperone is gone.”

“You know my parent’s agreed to walk with us. They did it once.”

James shuddered and Claire laughed. James had tried to put his arm over her shoulder and whisper something in her ear. Both Father and Mother began talking loudly about the strange weather. James had increased the distance between them again. When James left that night, Mother asked Claire the important question. “Do you like this young man? Is he the one?”

She had been shocked to admit to herself that he was most definitely not the one. The others tried to pretend to be busy, but she knew they were all listening. Bella in particular seemed eager for her to find someone. “I guess I like him, the best of the four who are on the train. He can be amusing, and it is flattering to be pursued. But no, I don’t think he is, although I could change my mind – at least that’s what he keeps telling me.” She said the last with a laugh. The other’s laughed too.

Jim scooted closer to Claire, staring up at the girl with soulful eyes. “If you just wait a couple of years, Tom and I will be old enough to get married.”

Claire stared into the earnest face, saw the emotion in his eyes and didn’t laugh. Instead, she put hands on either side of his face, puckered up, and leaned forward to kiss him. He backed away in terror before her lips connected, managing to slide off the bench into a heap. Claire swallowed her laugh and sighed, as though truly disappointed. Tom jumped over his brother and puckered up with his eyes closed.

This time Claire did laugh before leaning in to give him a quick kiss. Tom flung his arms out and fell on top of his brother. Father had to move in and separate the two boys who had immediately started a grappling brawl. “Claire, be serious. You don’t know your own power. A young woman is like a perfect flower.” Suddenly he was stuttering, waving his hands, unwilling to finish the analogy.

<><><>

Henry sat on the bench beside his wife. She had little Barney beside her, feeding him, and Henry was sitting far enough away that the child’s sticky hands didn’t touch him. In disgust, he watched the boy extend a hand for one of the dogs to lick, before returning it to the bowl.

Father Wimberley dealt with the two boys, shaking them by the collar and threatening to douse both their heads in the water barrel if they didn’t stop the constant scraping. His wife just sat clucking her tongue at all three of them.

Henry stared at Claire, the cause of it all. In the firelight, her carefully combed hair fell from her topknot as soft golden curls. One couldn’t see what color her eyes were, but he knew they were a bright, clear blue. All one could see was the perfect outline of her small, perfect face and figure.

She had dressed to please her suitors, two of which had showed up again for a short time after dinner. Now both Cobb and James were gone.

Claire rose and moved forward to take Jim to one side. Henry wasn’t surprised to see her quickly lean in to kiss the boy. He watched Jim, as embarrassed and thrilled as before, but at least he managed to not fall down. “There, now you’re both even. No more fighting. Promise?” Claire asked.

Jim nodded and Father Wimberley nudged his brother until Tom stuck out his hand and they both shook on it. With relief, Henry watched the boys as they trudged off to take care of whatever chore the man had given them. He watched as Claire obediently turned into her Father’s embrace, giving him a kiss on the cheek as well.

Henry sighed, uncomfortably wondering what those soft, bow-shaped lips would feel like. What should her father have told the girl? That like a flower, every man who saw her would be thinking of plucking such a pretty bloom for his own. Someone needed to explain to the girl what that plucking would involve, probably her mother if the father couldn’t speak up. When Henry turned at Bella’s sharp voice, he wondered how long she had been studying him and how much she had seen on his face.

She held out her son and Henry tried to find a smile for the poor lad. All he could think as he took the child was what foul thing Barney would do to him next. At least he was in his rough trail clothes. A little slime from the boy’s slobbers, plop of food, or worse, wouldn’t matter as much. It still made Henry shudder with disgust as he took him and he heard Barney’s strange little laugh as a reward. He stared at the laughing boy and smiled in return. Barney reached up a damp hand and touched his mouth and mustache, then giggled again.

It started the boy hiccuping and Henry was relieved when Bella returned quickly to take her son back. At least he hadn’t made the gagging sound tonight when the boy touched his face. He was trying. A lot of good it did him. Bella already harped about something as she took the boy back and said Goodnight for all of them. Henry had learned long ago to not argue back. Still, he could tell from the shrillness of her voice, this would be one of their long nights.

Disgusted with being told again and again by Bella that he was making a fool of himself, mooning over that girl, Henry rose and dressed. He knew it was foolish since he would have to stand watch soon anyway, but he couldn’t lay in his bed of thorns any longer. In the past, he would tell Bella, she was crazy and to stop worrying. But tonight he couldn’t bring the lie to his lips. He was obsessed, but he didn’t dare admit it to his wife. But he had heard it in her voice, the hurt she felt when he didn’t deny it as usual.

In the dark, he stood and listened, felt his heart contract as he heard the dry sobbing. She was crying. He could slip back into the wagon and comfort her. Kiss and make love to her. How long had it been since they last made love? Days, weeks? Why had he hurt her? It didn’t seem enough to tell her he had never acted inappropriately with the girl in any way. It wasn’t enough, because that was all he thought about doing these days.

Henry stood outside the next wagon, holding his breath as he listened again. All he could think about was scolding Claire for her behavior. The way she dressed, the way she acted, the way she looked, all were designed to attract the attention of any male. Look at poor Jim’s behavior tonight. She was making herself completely irresistible. Before, when Bonnie was here to guide and advise her, she dressed well, but was always prim and proper. Now, he and apparently others, thought she was available to them if they just asked. Her actions were those of a flirt. He needed desperately to warn her where such wanton behavior would lead and the trouble she could end up in.

Under her wagon, he heard one of the boys stir and one of the dogs whine low in answer. Henry was lucky they hadn’t charged out to attack him like the other day.

Behind him, he felt the prod of a rifle in his back and a familiar voice asked, “What are you doing here?”

“Robert, it’s me, Henry,” he whispered.

The rifle tip remained firmly pressed against his spine. “I know. What are you doing outside my daughter’s wagon,” the soft, husky voice sounded deadly.

In the dark, quiet night, Henry held his breath. He imagined Bella hearing the question, Claire, the twins. He looked over his shoulder at the older man, pointed off toward the far bank of the river. As Robert lowered the rifle, the two men stepped away from the circle of wagons.

Only when they were far enough away, that they couldn’t be heard, did Henry dare to explain. “Bella and I had an argument.”

“We all heard you.”

Henry looked at the familiar face, stared into his angry eyes. Once again, he worried about the gun Wimberley still held. What had they said, what had he told Bella? He swallowed, he had told her nothing. Silence was his new strategy to handle her insane jealousy. For just a second he wondered if it would work for her father. He shook his head. “She is jealous of Claire.”

Robert nodded and motioned up and down with the gun as well as his head. When Henry didn’t answer, he asked, “Why didn’t you tell her she had no reason to be, like you do every night?”

Henry blushed, was grateful for the dark, he turned and walked along the muddy bank, his feet sliding in spots where the cows had climbed up the bank.

“Well,” Robert demanded.

Henry turned and spun up to him, his voice soft, his hands held out to his side. “Go ahead and shoot me, damn you. I couldn’t lie to my wife, all right.”

Robert stood silently, wondered how he could protect his daughter from this new danger. He stomped past the tormented man in front of him, thumping into his shoulder as hard as he could.

He was almost into the circle again when he turned and walked back up to the younger man.

“What were you doing outside her wagon?” this time, through gritted teeth.

“I wanted to warn her. Now that Bonnie is gone, she seems to spend all her time flirting. Her behavior is more and more reckless every day. Hell, you saw the twins tonight. They’re not quite twelve yet and they feel it. Look at what she’s doing to that group of four want-to-be-miners. They are fighting with each other over whose turn it is to visit, who can help her with her chores.”

Robert nodded, rubbed his face as he lowered the gun. “Yeah, I see what she’s doing to you.” He sighed and looked at Henry with a look of pity. “Leave her to me and her mother, we’ll talk to her tomorrow.”

Henry looked like he had something else to say, then turned back toward his wagon, suddenly exhausted.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Henry pointed to his wagon and the old man shook his head. As he walked past him, he handed Henry the gun. “Keep your eyes peeled, there’s something out there, I can feel it.”

Henry took the gun, ran a hand along the collar of his own coat to smooth the hair down on his neck. “Good night, Mr. Wimberley.”

“Good night, Henry.”

<><><>

Henry woke the man in the wagon in front of the Wimberley’s to take his turn, with a warning to keep lively. Something was out there bothering the cattle and horses. He turned back to his own wagon without pausing outside Claire’s.

It was even darker inside, but Bella kept things orderly. In minutes he had propped his rifle near to hand, safety on, and hung the handgun out of reach of the boy. Carefully, so as not to shake any dust out to disturb the sleeping child, Henry stripped down into his underwear.

Bella lay facing away from him. Normally she would have turned over to at least whisper a few minutes. From her breathing, he knew she wasn’t asleep. If there were more light, he would have been able to see her hair move over her ears as she tilted them in his direction to follow his movements. He had once teased her that Tip and Tyler had nothing on her for listening. He had meant it as a compliment, but as always, she took it as an insult.

Slipping into bed with her, he pretended to be adjusting the covers as though he were cold. Instead, he managed to lift it enough from where she had it tucked around her so that he could touch her. When he placed his hand on her back, she sat upright and turned to glare at him. He knew with the boy finally asleep, she wouldn’t dare to yell at him. Insistently he reached up and pulled her back down beside him, so their faces were together, their lips almost touching.

Henry felt her tremble with fury, with hurt, with all the words she would have poured over him like hot lava at any other time of the day. Gathering himself for her struggle, he whispered into her mouth. “Bella, I’m sorry. I was worried that the way Claire has been acting, she might get hurt. I wanted to warn her.”

His eyes had adjusted to the dim light enough to see the oval of her face, divided into perfect halves by her long, lean nose. Her eyes were so dark, he could not tell if she were listening and understanding him. Her breaths were like little hot puffs of steam against his mouth. Barney still slept.

“I talked to Robert Wimberley instead. I shared our concerns. He promised to talk to her tomorrow, and to have her mother do the same.”

He felt it, the relaxing in her slower breathing, in the way her body sagged against the mattress. It was now or never if he were to save himself from the temptation that was driving him mad. Softly he leaned forward an inch and they kissed.

<><><>

Claire woke, groggy from her long sleepless night. She had managed to brush her hair from her face, but felt too weary to bother putting it up. Struggling into her wrapper and slippers, she climbed out of the wagon and set about the morning chores. For a moment, anger swept over her at the unfairness of it all. Why, when Bonnie disappeared, had all her jobs fallen to Claire? There were nine in their party, not just one. Then she dropped the lid of the barrel down on the water and turned to lean against the side of the wagon.

Struggling to hold back tears, she set the full bucket by her feet and clasped her hands together in prayer. What kind of friend was she? When was the last time she had even tried to imagine what Bonnie must be going through? She had made up a story about a kind Indian Chief taking her hostage, but what if it had been one of the murderous band who killed the young soldier. Claire felt shaken by the thought and covered her mouth to keep from crying out.

The reason she didn’t think about those alternatives, was she couldn’t. For a moment, images of her dear friend flooded her mind. She could hear Bonnie’s strong voice, see her hazel eyes and serene face. For a second she imagined her strong arm reaching around her and clucking over her like a mother hen. She would be nagging at her now to go get dressed and put her hair up before the children woke and saw her looking like this. She had a job to do to keep everyone’s spirits up.

Claire started the fire, put on the coffee and beans, which she would finish at the end of the day. She didn’t bother to slice the bacon or start the porridge or bread. She knew the smell would draw Tip and Tyler to sniff around and beg. If she wasn’t there, they might steal all the morning’s meat.

When Claire saw her mother emerge from the wagon beside her father, she breathed a sigh of relief. She made quick work of putting the meat in the skillet and added oats to the boiling water, handing the spoon to her mother. “I’ll hurry and dress, I just didn’t sleep well last night and got a late start.”

Mother smiled, reached out to take the spoon but held onto her empty hand. “Sit, please, before the others get up. I want to talk to you about something important.”

Claire was surprised, but looked around to pull up the wagon bench to sit on closer to the fire. “What’s wrong, aren’t you feeling well?” Claire asked, talking as softly as her mother.

Elizabeth Wimberley stared at her daughter, took in the disheveled appearance and smiled. She had told Robert that it was ridiculous. Claire wasn’t a temptress. But Robert had insisted if she wouldn’t set the girl straight he would.

“He’s worried that I haven’t explained the facts of life to you. All the business between a man and a woman.”

Claire watched her mother duck her head and blush. She giggled at her mother’s modesty. “I know all about that, about… well, Bonnie told us, me and Lynne.” Blushing, she leaned forward to hug her.

For a moment her mother looked scandalized, then she relaxed. “She shouldn’t have. There are things a married woman knows, but a young girl shouldn’t learn until her wedding night.”

Claire sat back, hands on hips before leaning forward to whisper. “Did Grandmother tell you on your wedding night?”

Mother snorted, awkwardly using the wooden spoon to flip a piece of the thick slabs of bacon. The oats at the end of the spoon stuck to the meat and skillet, browning with a nice nutty smell. “I had a friend who had already told me. Grandmother did warn me it might not be pleasant, but it never lasted long, and it was a woman’s duty if she was to have children.”

Claire sat back, hands on her knees for a minute. “That’s what Bonnie told us too.”

Elizabeth sat staring at her child. Did she dare tell her the truth? That it was more than pleasant, not every time, but there were times when it was rapturous. She gave a scowl and finished turning the meat. No, Robert had been emphatic, that she warn her daughter about smiling at the men, at being too exciting – wasn’t that the word he had used.

Claire started to stand up as one of the twins crawled out from under the wagon, scratching in just the way Robert did each morning. She scowled at the boy and he had the grace to look guilty before turning to look for the quickest way to a bush. She hissed at Claire, motioned for her to sit back down, but waited in silence until the other boy, Jim climbed out from the other side.

“He and Henry are worried that you are flirting too much with all the men. That they might misinterpret your friendliness as an invitation. Well, he doesn’t want you to smile at them so much, or look so pretty.”

Now Claire did rise, her eyes full of hurt. “Which one of them said it, which one thought I was acting like a floozy?”

Before Mother could answer, she was gone.