for him to catch.”
Joseph reached for the rope in question. “I’ll take that if you don’t mind.”
Buster refused to release it. “Hey, you can’t take my dad’s rope away from us! We’re going to need it.”
“You mind telling me why you felt it was so important to stand over here and plot to cross the creek when you’d been ordered not to?”
“We would’ve waited for the right time.” Buster’s contrary attitude had begun to irritate Joseph from the first day the boys joined them. Buster also knew how to egg on the younger boys. He was a natural leader—a dangerous quality in one so pigheaded.
Joseph stepped forward and loomed over Buster until the boy released the other end of his prized rope. “You need to think past the end of your nose, Johnston, before you get someone killed.”
Buster grimaced and looked away. “Claude’s fine, isn’t he?”
Joseph glanced over his shoulder, where Victoria had moved up the hillside with her patients. “No thanks to you, he’s safe for now, but if he or any of the others get sick from swallowing contaminated water, I’m holding you boys responsible. You could have kept half the camp from risking their lives if you’d followed my orders in the first place.” He turned and walked uphill toward the rescue team.
“We’re going to need that rope to get across the creek,” Buster called after him.
Joseph looped the item in question over his arm, ignoring Buster’s protest. Instead of waiting at his brother’s side, sixteen-year-old Gray followed Joseph—a habit he’d begun to develop soon after joining the wagon train three weeks ago. Joseph suspected it was one reason Buster acted out so often.
“You should help your brother move that wagon away from the water,” Joseph told the boy. “You never know about flash floods.”
Gray snorted. “He won’t move it.”
“You don’t think it’s in a dangerous place?”
“You think my opinion matters to him? I’m his stupid little brother.”
“I need you to help me with the patients, then.”
The boy looked up at Joseph, eyes brightening.
“If I find out what Dr. Fenway needs, will you gather the items and help with treatments?”
Gray ducked his head. “Sure thing.”
“Don’t stare at the patients while they’re being treated.”
“No, sir.”
“Go check on Claude.”
Without a word, Gray did as he was told.
Joseph watched Victoria. She moved quickly between her charges, but she had a comforting voice that obviously soothed everyone who heard it. Her eyes softened as she assured Luella she would do her best to protect everyone from any contamination, and then examined a cut on Luella’s arm. She gave Heidi orders to run back to the wagon for supplies.
She finally looked over her shoulder to find Joseph watching her. He beckoned for her to join him for a quick word. She hesitated, then excused herself from the others.
“Yes, Joseph?” She looked at his hair, which he knew hung over his forehead in untidy black strands. Once upon a time she would have reached up and straightened it for him; he couldn’t help hoping she would at least attempt to brush the sawdust from it.
But her hands remained at her sides as she waited for him to speak.
He cleared his throat. “What’s your complete plan of action, Doctor?”
“According to a Dr. Snow I spoke with in England last year, cholera is definitely caused by bad drinking water, hence my concern, of course. As I’ve stressed, we have no idea how much contamination that creek is carrying with it or how far north it started. Everyone who was in the water could be in danger if they swallowed anything, and that cut on Luella’s arm worries me.”
“Is there no treatment to prevent them from developing the illness?”
“I wish there was. We can try to force as much water from them as possible.”
“More than rolling them over the logs?”
“Yes. I wish I’d brought ipecac,” she said. “But I had an order that didn’t come in before we left. I’ve sent Heidi for some salt and pure water. If we can give them salt water to drink and then dilute what’s left with clean water, it’s logical we could ward off some contagion,” she said. “Thank you for gathering the logs for us. I know it’s a long shot, but we’ll take what we can right now.”
“I’ll help with that.”
As he turned to leave, Victoria touched his arm. “Wait, Joseph. They don’t listen to me as they do to you. Some of the people are still hovering too closely to the water for my liking. That bank could collapse with them at any second. We need to move them into the forest.”
He took her hand, which was still soft despite her habit of taking turns at the reins of the mules pulling the Ladue wagon these past four weeks. “Except for Buster Johnston, I think the rest are willing to listen. I’ll do all I can.”
“I appreciate it.” She returned to her patients.
Victoria had once told him his touch gave her strength she didn’t know she had. He missed her touch. He’d lain awake too many nights out on the trail during the years after his father passed, and he’d recalled her gentle touch, the feel of her lips against his, the sparkle of her tears when he’d left her for the plantation with the belief that it was his responsibility to take over the running of it as the oldest son.
Victoria hated slavery. They’d disagreed about it often, but he hadn’t changed his mind until he’d arrived at the plantation. He’d felt a kick of knowledge in his gut for the first time. He’d seen slavery from her eyes, heard her voice in his head and knew he would not be able to stay. He planned to return to St. Louis and walk back into Victoria’s arms a changed man. That had never happened.
Oh, he’d changed, all right. He’d been ravaged by bitterness upon arriving back in St. Louis and finding that Matthew had for sure taken care of Victoria. He’d married her.
And Joseph became a man who led others across country, and saved his money and brooded about the treachery of the friend he’d once trusted and the woman he still loved.
* * *
“My friends, it’s time to start treatment.” Victoria leaned over Luella and nodded to Joseph, Mr. Reich and Mr. McDonald, who held others over the logs, facedown. “This won’t be comfortable, but we need to try to prevent contagion if we can.” She raised her eyebrows at Joseph and they got started.
Despite all, she couldn’t prevent a lingering look at Joseph. He appeared to have everything in hand, up to and including a threat that if the Johnston boys didn’t move their wagon they might well lose it. Buster didn’t listen.
Despite Joseph’s deep,
