speak his mind. And if the unwritten laws of the wagon train were to be observed, Jessica would accept a husband from among the available men in the group, or be sent back to civilization at the first opportunity.
She’d not been treated so well since Saint Louis, Jessica thought. Never had Lyle lifted her from the wagon, carried firewood or asked after her well-being while she cooked the evening meal. Now Finn watched her from beside the wagon, his gaze intent on her as she bent over the campfire and rescued her kettle from the flames. She stirred the rabbit stew once and her stomach rebelled as the rich scent rose on a cloud of steam.
“If you’re ready to eat, I’ll dish you up a serving,” she said quietly, turning to face him. He stood upright from where he’d leaned against her wagon and stepped closer, taking the kettle from her, gripping it firmly over her protests.
“I’m not used to being waited on,” she said. “I don’t mind—”
“But I do,” he returned curtly, cutting off her objections to his lending a hand. “You’ve had a rough day, Mrs. Beaumont. I’m here to look after you this evening. Jonas gave me leave to skip my duties for a day or so until we get you some help lined up.”
“I can take care of myself,” she told him, lifting her chin in defiance of his words. “I watched Lyle tend the oxen for the past weeks. I’m sure I can learn well enough how to stake them out at night and get rolling in the mornings.”
“I’m sure you can,” Finn said agreeably. “But it isn’t necessary. Not while I’m here, anyway.” And making himself indispensable to her was the name of the game, he’d decided during the last four miles they’d traveled today. Jonas had agreed—halfheartedly to be sure—but had finally given a curt nod in response to Finn’s suggestion.
“You got any more of that stuff?” Jonas asked, as if in answer to Finn’s thoughts. He squatted beside his guide and looked up at Jessica. “How you doin’, Mrs. Beaumont?” he asked.
“I’m all right,” Jessica told him. “I’ll fix you a bowl right away, Mr. McMasters.”
“You need to eat, too,” Finn reminded her quietly.
She only nodded as she dug through the small keg in which she kept her dishes and silverware, seeking out a bowl for Jonas. Filling it to the brim, she offered it to him, handed him a spoon, then returned to dish out a portion for herself.
“I know I have to eat,” she said, her gaze meeting Finn’s. With care, she lowered herself to sit on the ground, her skirts surrounding her, her legs tucked up beneath her, and felt herself the focus of those who watched from various campfires around the circle. And then she poked at the savory stew, forcing herself to lift a spoonful to her mouth.
“Ma’am?” Jonas’s voice caught her attention and she looked in his direction.
“I know this ain’t a good time to be talkin’ to you about this, but there ain’t gonna be any better time, so far as I can see, in the next couple of weeks,” he said glumly. “The hard fact is that a woman alone can’t travel with the train, Mrs. Beaumont. You’re gonna have to either find a husband or leave the train when we reach Council Grove. And that’s less than two weeks from now.”
“I’m not leaving the train,” she said firmly, her jaw set, as if that alone would convince him of her intent. “My husband has—had, I mean—a deed to property near Pike’s Peak, and that’s where I’m going. It belongs to me now.” Her hand rested in an automatic gesture against the rounding of her belly as she spoke. “It’s all I have, Mr. McMasters, and I’m not walking away from it.”
“Well, it’ll take a man to work the land and build a place for you to live,” he told her bluntly. “A woman alone can’t handle something like that.”
“There’s a cabin there, according to what Lyle heard of the place. Not much, but enough for shelter. And he said there was a chance that gold could be found there.” She lowered her voice, lest the words carry to the adjacent campfire. Gold was a powerful incentive, its presence inciting men to lie and steal. Even to murder.
Lyle’s life’s blood had been shed today, and unless she missed her guess, the claim to land in Colorado had something to do with it. Lyle had bragged one night, after he’d consumed half a bottle of whiskey, telling her of gold to be found, and then left bruises as he threatened her lest she repeat his words to anyone.
Now the land was hers, and sharing it with a man was not her first choice.
“Ma’am, you’ll have to be thinking about accepting one of the available men on the train as your husband,” Jonas said, his dark eyes holding not a shred of doubt as to his ultimatum. “It’s just the way it is, ma’am. I’ll give you till we get to Council Grove to make a choice.”
He looked around the circle to where more than a dozen men watched the drama going on, with Jessica as its focus. “You won’t have any lack of suitors,” he said with a grimace. “There’s already talk about who you’ll pick.” He grinned briefly, shaking his head. “There’s never enough women to go around in the West, and these men are already plottin’ to come courtin’ you.”
Jessica glanced at him, then shot a look at Finn. He returned it with a nod. “Jonas is right, you know,” he said. “Any one of those men—” He tilted his head, lifting an eyebrow for emphasis as he spoke. “Any one of them would be on you like flies on honey if you give them a nod. You’re a good-looking woman, and you’ve got a wagon and a team of oxen, and, as you said yourself, your husband had a deed to a piece of property.”
He smiled, looking into the depths of the fire for a moment. “You’re going to be in demand, Mrs. Beaumont. I’m not the only bachelor who’ll be coming to call. And, as harsh as it sounds to a woman newly widowed, you’re going to have to make up your mind in a hurry.”
Jessica nodded, aware that the truth was staring her in the face, and the man delivering the message was no doubt presenting himself as one of those offering for her hand.
“I expect you’re right, Mr. Carson. But not tonight, please. I can’t think straight right now, and by the time I get my supper mess cleared up, I won’t be fit company for anyone.” If Finn Carson meant to make her an offer, he’d have to wait until her head was clear and she was able to consider all of her options.
An hour later she was settled atop her feather tick on the wagon floor, her mind racing with the events of the day. And for the first time, tears came to her eyes. Not grief at Lyle’s death, although she supposed she should feel some small amount of remorse, at least, at leaving him by the side of the trail in a poorly marked grave.
But the past years had hardened her heart to his cunning smiles, and she’d long since lost any love she’d ever harbored in her heart for the man. He’d been mean. There was no other word for it. The man had been uncaring at times, harsh when she didn’t oblige him to his specifications, and too handy with hands that hurt and bruised her on occasion.
No, she didn’t mourn him, only the loss of those long years she’d spent trying to hold together a marriage that was doomed from the beginning. Her father had been right. Lyle Beaumont was a taker, a man without scruples. And Jessica had been blind to that side of him…until it was too late.
She curled on her side beneath a quilt, and a succession of faces appeared behind her closed eyelids. Miners, both young and in their middle years, at least half a dozen that she knew of, who had offered their condolences today as
