profile and the prospect of having her walk beside him to the bank of the stream a bit later on. “Harv said once Geraldine got their girls settled down for the night, we’d go to the stream for our baths,” he said quietly. “I see her scrubbin’ them up right now, and Harv’s cleaning up their supper dishes.”
“I won’t be long,” Jessica told him. “I’ll just need to clean my kettle out first.” She emptied the remains of the stew into a quart jar and set it aside, then poured clean water into the black container, sloshing it around before she dumped it on the far side of the wagon. Again she poured a portion of clean water into it and set it over the fire to heat.
The bowls went into it, along with the spoons and the mixing dish she’d used earlier. Finn watched, a comfortable sensation flooding him as she methodically did her evening chores. She would wash everything in a few minutes, adding soap and using a rag to clean every surface. He’d watched her from the shadows more than one evening as she organized her campsite, aware of the aura of loneliness surrounding her. Lyle had not invited the friendliness of others, and Jessica had suffered for it.
Now she looked up, smiling as Arlois approached, towel in one hand, a bundle of clothing in the other. “We’re about ready to walk to the stream,” she said. “Geraldine said she’d be ready in five minutes, and a couple of the others are coming along. Can I help you, Jessica? I’ll climb in your wagon and find your towel and nightgown and wrapper if you like.”
“Would you?” Jessica answered. “I’d appreciate it. I try not to hoist myself up over those boards any more often than I have to lately.”
His own towel and change of clothes were ready at the back of Jonah’s wagon and Finn sauntered in that direction, nodding at Arlois as he walked past her. “You and your wife going along?” he asked another of the men, and received a nod. He felt a part of the group in a different way tonight, he realized, aware that it was because of Jessica, because of her tentative acceptance of him as a suitor.
Glancing back to where she stood with Arlois, he caught her gaze and knew a moment of revelation. Limned in the light of the fire behind her, she seemed an almost unearthly figure. And wasn’t that a strange thought.
For the space of just a few seconds he was back in Saint Louis, watching as an unknown female stood by a covered wagon and then was tossed with uncaring hands to sit atop the seat. Her eyes had met his for only a moment then, her nod a polite response to his own.
And with an ironic twist of fate, she’d been destined to be the one woman he must pursue in order to avenge Aaron’s death. Marrying her would only solve part of the problem, he admitted to himself silently. If she found, somewhere down the road, that he’d courted her in order to gain possession of Aaron’s deed, she would turn from him in anger and disgust. He would lose her trust should his motives be revealed.
One day, he would tell her the whole story, one day when their marriage was secured and he’d had time to prove himself to her. And if she turned from him then, he would kick himself for keeping the secret from her.
Finn clenched his jaw. It couldn’t be helped. Blood had been shed, and Aaron’s death must not be in vain. Jessica was an innocent bystander, but that fact couldn’t be considered now. Of primary importance was possession of the piece of paper that had caused Aaron’s death. No matter the cost, he would possess the deed, and Aaron would be avenged.
The group assembled quietly in the darkness, whispering among themselves lest children sleeping in the wagons be disturbed. Finn walked beside Jessica, lifting her hand to rest on his bent arm as he led her toward the stream. Around them several couples walked, the women clinging to their menfolk, almost as if this were a celebration of sorts.
“I feel as if we’re going to a party,” Geraldine Littleman said in an undertone as she and Harv caught up with Jessica’s slower stroll. “I’m so tired of that wagon seat and walking in the dust, it’ll be almost fun to wash clothes tomorrow morning.”
“I hope you’ll be feeling the same way when I bring you my things,” Finn said in a low voice, his head bending until his mouth almost touched Jessica’s ear.
She smiled at his words, glancing up at him, her fingers squeezing his forearm. Words didn’t seem to be necessary, she thought, enjoying the darkness, the murmurs of the men and women who surrounded them. Just ahead was the stream, its banks lined by shrubbery, shaded by darkness that spread its cover beneath the low branches of willows that fought for space beside the water.
The men stayed at a distance while the women sought the shallow stream. “I’m glad Mr. Carson brought you along,” Geraldine said as she dropped her bundle on the stream bank. “You looked so tired today, Jessica. Not that it wasn’t expected, after all that happened yesterday.”
Besides Arlois, of all the other females on the train, she’d been drawn to the young mother. She’d watched during the evenings as Geraldine’s two young daughters wrote their sums and then begged for stories from the precious books that held a place of honor in their wagon.
“Mr. Carson was thinking of you, I’ll warrant, when he walked around to the campfires, recruiting the bunch of us to come along for bathing tonight,” Geraldine said with a chuckle as the women stripped quickly from their clothing. “I think he has eyes for you, Jessica.”
“You think so?” she asked, thankful for the darkness that hid her rosy cheeks. Her dress lay around her ankles and now her underwear followed. “I’m amazed that any man would be interested in a woman who’s carrying another man’s child,” she said quietly, catching her breath as she skimmed her stockings off. She bent to tuck them into the bundle she’d made of her dress and petticoat, and then straightened, glancing over her shoulder to where tall figures were shadows in the moonlight.
Naked but for her shift, Jessica felt the evening breeze flutter the soft cotton of her brief garment and she shivered. The women were vulnerable, almost nude as they shed their clothing. Another look eased her mind, for two of the men faced west, three looked toward the east, long guns in their hands as they guarded the place where their womenfolk enjoyed this rare treat. Finn was the farthest from her, Jessica realized, but if he should turn, he would be able to see her, would no doubt recognize her outlined form in the shadows, a shape heavy with pregnancy.
Her hands quickly removed the simple ribbon from her braid and as she untangled the three strands, running her fingers through her hair, she recalled Finn’s words. I like your hair that way, hanging loose down your back. She smiled, allowing the length of it to fall almost to her hips once it was free from its confinement.
It was her only concession to feminine pride, this heavy mass of waving hair that proclaimed her a woman in the most primitive fashion. Falling around her like a mantle, it hid much of her from view until she gathered it in one hand, pulling it over her shoulder as she entered the river.
Carefully she stepped from the bank into knee-deep water, her precious bar of soap in hand, and sank beneath the surface, settling on the sandy bottom. The current was slow, and in the shallows where she bathed, the water held but a trace of the day’s heat. Cooler than her body by a long shot, it was a welcome relief to her parched skin. After long moments, she rose to her knees and bent over, allowing her hair to float on the surface, then began working up suds in her hands. Even a sunbonnet couldn’t keep the dust of the trail from settling on her head, and she used her nails to scrub the soap into the surface of her scalp, and then squeezed the suds through the length of hair.
The women, almost as one, washed, soft murmurs of pleasure rising from their throats as they enjoyed the luxury of soap and water, then rising from the shallows to splash away the residue. Whispers floated above the surface
