Claimed on the Frontier (3 page)

His jaw twitched, and his eyes narrowed. Matthew looked from Aaron to me with wide, saucer-like eyes. Aaron’s voice was low when he spoke.

“You’d argue with me, girl?”

I swallowed. “No, sir,” I said. “I’m not arguing with you.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Your words just now say otherwise.”

Aaron furrowed his brow, but as for me, I stood my ground. “Only stating fact, sir,” I said firmly. I felt justified. “I spent hours picking the berries that went into that jam, and it’d be a cryin’ shame to see it taken by just anyone.”

“She has a point, Aaron,” Matthew said amicably, but Aaron’s gaze froze the words on his lips. Finally, Aaron shook his head.

“Get the jam,” he conceded. He dismissed me by turning his back to me, and he continued to prepare for their departure. I obeyed, muttering under my breath about the man’s pride and impatience but careful not to be overheard. I made quick work of emptying provisions into an empty corn feed bag—he may have said jam, but I was no fool and well knew provisions weren’t always easy to come by—and just as I made it to the door, I saw the sheriff approaching on his horse. He was a burly, overweight man with sagging jowls and lazy eyes. As he drew near Aaron’s wagon, I had a sudden recollection.

The bandits never
had
gotten to the Fitzgerald’s private quarters, but I knew what lay in the chest in their room. Moving as quickly as I could lest I be caught by the sheriff, or worse, by Aaron, I unlatched the chest and quickly found the leather pouch tucked under the folds of Mrs. Fitzgerald’s satin wedding dress. I opened the pouch, making sure it was what I was looking for, coins and bills stuffed in. I shoved it in my pockets and gave the cabin one more cursory glance.

There wasn’t a thing I wanted to take with me. I stood and left the cabin, off to meet the sheriff and determined not only to never set foot in that cabin again, but to be the master of the fate that awaited me.

I was alone, with no education, and no money save the pouch in my pocket, but my heart was light and expectant.

I was free.

* * *

Aaron was deep in conversation with the sheriff when I approached, the two of them standing over the men who’d attempted to rob us the night before as the sheriff fastened metal cuffs on the men and dumped them, with Aaron’s help, unceremoniously in his wagon.

“I’ll take ‘em into town and book ‘em,” he drawled lazily. “You say Fitzgerald and his wife were killed?”

“Yes, sir,” Aaron said. “My brother and I have moved their bodies to the back of the cabin.” The sheriff’s lazy eyes went to mine.

“And you, girl,” he muttered, “you witnessed this?”

“Yes, sir,” I said, the mere suggestion that Aaron and his brothers were not telling the truth stirring my latent anger. “Of course he’s telling the truth. Every word of it.”

The sheriff grunted, clearly pleased he’d not have to do more work than necessary. “And you, girl,” he repeated. “Where will you go?”

His lewd, suggestive glance at the bulge of my bust and wide hips made my stomach flip unpleasantly and I swallowed.

“Fitzgerald’s brother will lay claim to the property, no doubt,” said the sheriff. Fitzgerald’s brother was a conniving, vicious lawyer. He’d seize the property. There was no love lost on his brother, and I wanted to be nowhere near him when he arrived.

“Suits me,” I murmured. “I’ll likely go into town and offer myself as an apprentice. Maybe someone can give me room and board in exchange for work.”

His gaze again went to my chest and he muttered, “My wife’d be glad to have some help with the work around the house.”

I barely tempered my revulsion. “No, thank you,” I said. “I’d rather work with Mrs. Kensington or Mrs. Baker, and learn a trade while I earned my keep.” I didn’t want to do either. I wanted to shake the dust of the town off my feet and begin again, where people didn’t know me as the uneducated servant girl to the dishonest, cruel Fitzgeralds.

“Why don’t you come with us?” Matthew asked eagerly. “We’re headin’ west! Ma went with Geraldine and Phillip. They’re stakin’ claim on property. We’re gonna set up home where the crops grow strong, and we’re only a week away!”

I had no idea who Geraldine and Phillip were, of course, and I’d never been west, but my heart squeezed at his words, even as I didn’t allow the glimmer of hope to blossom. I’d never had a family. How I longed to go west, to a new land with people who didn’t know me, even if it meant accompanying the three brothers along the way.

“You speak out of turn, Matthew,” Aaron corrected. “Go sit in the wagon and wait for me.”

Matthew hung his head as he turned to obey, and I wanted to throw my arms around him and hug him. His eagerness and joy were dear to me. I’d never met someone who actually
wanted
me to be with them. I longed to be his friend.

The sheriff shrugged. “What you do with yourself is up to you, girl,” he stated. “I have to get these men behind bars afore they wake and make my job harder.” He tipped his hat to the brothers and me before he attached the wagon to his horse and left.

Silence hung in the air. Where
would
I go? And then a thought came to me and it was a good idea, so again, I spoke before I thought it through.

“Will you take me to the next town?” I asked. “May I have a ride? And when I get to the next town, I’ll find work and lodging.”

“You speak with certainty,” Aaron said, his piercing eyes fixed on mine, his jaw working. “And if we take you to the next town, and no one takes you in, what then? Or worse, what if you’re taken in by people like the Fitzgeralds? What then, Pearl?” It was proper to address a young woman as
miss
but I had no surname.

I liked the way he said my name. No longer was it a name spat in anger and scorn, but the lustrous gem I’d once seen on the ring of a visitor in town.

Pearl.

“I don’t know,” I murmured. “I—haven’t thought that far ahead.”

“This is an important decision for you,” he chided. “Your future lies within the choice you’ll make next.”

“Choice?” I stated. “I see no choice, Mr. Stanley.” And I truly didn’t.

He eyed me thoughtfully. “You have three. You stay here and take your risks with someone new here in town, or perhaps Fitzgerald’s brother will lay claim to you. Or, you come with us,” he said. “And we take you to the next town. The third choice, you come with us, and we take you to our new homestead. You accompany us on our journey, and I’ve no doubt our mother would be glad of another pair of hands to help in our kitchen.” He paused and his eyes warmed. “You’ll like her. She’s kind, and she’ll take a likin’ to you.”

My heart was in my throat. He was offering to let me go
home
with them? To accompany them on the journey, where they’d offer protection, and at the end of the journey, there was… family?

“I can cook,” I stammered. “I can mend, and help with the washing, milk your cows, and—”

“I appreciate that, but your skills in the home are not my concern.”

Dear God, what did he mean? Was he not the gentleman I thought him to be? Would he take advantage of me after all?

I cleared my throat. “I’m not sure I follow, Mr. Stanley,” I said as politely as I could. His offer hung in the air, and it was unlikely I’d ever be offered such an opportunity again.

He took a step toward me, his voice low and rebuking. I quaked.

“I care little for your skills, young lady,” he said. “But the journey we take now is dangerous. There are bandits, savages, and wild beasts. The question isn’t whether you can sew or cook.” He paused. “I question whether you can
mind
.”

“Mind?”

“Obey me,” he stated. My stomach twisted as something primitive took root, and his gaze awakened in me something altogether new but not at all unwelcome. “If the answer is no, then I will take you to the next town and gladly leave you. Disobeyin’ me could put all our lives at risk. You are welcome to come, but you’ll do as I say.”

I swallowed. I had the chance of a new life ahead of me—family, a new home, and the possibilities of a new beginning.

“Yes, sir,” I whispered. “I’ll mind.”

He stared at me a moment before he nodded curtly, murmuring, “That remains to be seen. Go to the wagon.”

* * *

You’d think after that showdown that I would have been on my best behavior with Aaron. And I tried, at first. Maybe it was the stress of the day, my lack of sleep, or the fear of the unknown.

I begged Aaron to let me take Lovely, the mare I’d fed and watered daily when the Fitzgeralds would allow it. The horse and I had formed a bond, two of us paired together against a pair of bullies, and I would miss her soft eyes, the nuzzles from her hand, and her whistling neigh. But he would not be moved.

“She’s practically mine,” I said, but he shook his head vehemently.

“Practically
yours ain’t the same as
yours
,” he stated. “And it wouldn’t be right or proper to take what isn’t yours. Did you pay for her with money from your own pocket?”

I hung my head. “No, sir,” I said.

“Then she stays,” he said with finality. He gave me a long look, and it was clear to me he was probing, making sure I was ready to obey as I said I would. I frowned and marched to the back of the covered wagon.

I told him I’d
obey
but I didn’t tell him I’d obey
happily.

I huffed and sat down angrily in the back of the wagon next to Matthew, who watched the whole interaction go down with wide eyes.

“You don’t want to sass him,” he whispered.

“Oh, yeah?” I whispered back, not at all deterred but rather more determined than ever to remain stone-faced and angry. That was my
horse.
Well, not mine exactly, but I felt as if she belonged to me.

Matthew shook his head from side to side and swallowed.

“He swings a mean switch,” he whispered. My heart thumped wildly.

I eyed Matthew thoughtfully, and wanted to pretend to be brave and fearless. Did Matthew view me as one of them?

Did Aaron?

And moreover… was
I
subject to punishment if I disobeyed Aaron? He’d demanded my obedience, and I
was
doing what he said. I frowned, not entirely sure of the answer, but when Aaron came to the back of the wagon, fixed me with his stern gaze, and said, “Not in the back. Go sit in the front of the wagon. You’re to stay by my side,” I obeyed.

And I stopped my pouting.

“It ain’t proper for a young lady to sit with the boys if you’re not relations,” Aaron stated, taking my hand and helping me down from the back. His hand was strong and work-worn, and I liked the feel of it, but he released me as soon as I was on solid ground. “You’ll sit by me in front when you don’t walk, and you’ll mind how you behave. The boys walk most of the way anyhow. You come with me.”

I followed, my lips pursed tightly as I obeyed him. He helped me step up to the high seat, and I eyed it with some trepidation. It looked like little more than a large slab of wood, backless, but I would do my best to not complain. I settled myself on the seat and watched as Samuel made the necessary preparations.

“You’ve breakfasted?” Aaron asked gruffly as he hoisted himself up on the seat next to me.

“Yes, sir,” I mumbled. I’d eaten with Matthew while the sheriff and Aaron had made final arrangements, and had gladly given him an extra dollop of my prized jam.

I wondered. Would I be alone with Aaron? I wasn’t entirely sure Aaron would make for good company for hours upon hours of travel.

He turned to face me. “No possessions left inside?” he asked. “Books, or some such thing of yours?”

I shook my head.

“No, sir. Don’t know how to read. The Fitzgeralds thought it a useless talent and we’re far from a schoolhouse out here.”

He nodded. “Our hope is to rejoin others on the trail. It’s safer travelin’ together. We’ll travel until nightfall, then water and feed the horses, and eat our dinner. Samuel found a basket in the cabin with some things, cotton and thread and the like. Might they be yours?”

My heart soared. My handiwork! How could I have forgotten my knitting and needlework?

“The brown basket?” Mrs. Fitzgerald’s were in a golden basket, and I’d not touch her things if someone paid me to.

“Yes,” he said.

I nodded, resting my hands in my lap.

“Yes, sir,” I said. “Not sure how much I could get done with the wagon careening like a raft on a river, but come time I’ll be glad of them.”

And with a crack of his whip, our journey began.

* * *

I had much on my mind, as the wheels squeaked and turned, the wagon tipping slightly from side to side, and I thanked the good Lord I had a strong stomach and constitution. It was a lovely day, warm and sunny, though when we passed underneath the shade of trees, I felt a chill that warned of the coming autumn days ahead and the cold of winter. My current situation seemed almost surreal. Not two days before, I’d been gathering eggs and milking cows and returning to the dismal cabin where Mrs. Fitzgerald would shriek that the milk wasn’t properly handled or I’d addled the eggs.

I didn’t care if Aaron never spoke to me, and I had to bite my tongue for the rest of my life to keep from sassing him when he
did
see fit to order me around. I didn’t care if my back ached from sitting on the flat board of the wagon seat all day, and I was eating nothing but dried biscuits (jam or no). The sun shone, and as I marveled at the twitters of sparrows and harsher calls of the blue jays, I saw a large, red-tailed hawk sailing over my head and my heart soared. I felt as free as the hawk, the wide world mine to navigate.

“You’re a quiet one,” Aaron murmured, and I started at the low sound of his voice.

“I get lost in my thoughts,” I replied.

“Not poutin’ that I made you leave your mare behind?” he asked.

“I’ve accepted your answer,” I said. “And I don’t pout. I’ll have you know I was merely giving thanks that I’m not gathering the eggs for Mrs. Fitzgerald to feed to her fat oaf of a husband.”