needed that,” she whispered, wiping her eyes as her giggles subsided. “The man is handsome and even a bit dashing, but pompous doesn’t begin to describe him. He told me he could do more for me than Finn Carson, as if he were offering to buy my affections.” She considered that idea. “I think he’d want more from me than I could offer,” she said quietly, her humor retreating as she recalled the man’s anger.
“How about the other bachelors?” Arlois asked in a teasing manner.
“Most of them are still wet behind the ears, as well you know,” Jessica said, “and the rest haven’t had a bath since we left Independence.”
“Speaking of which,” Arlois said, her voice rising as if she announced something of tremendous import. “We’re going to be crossing a nice shallow creek in the morning, David said. Instead of dabbing around in a bucket, we’ll be able to wash clothes and get ourselves clean all over while we’re waiting to cross over. Maybe even by tonight, he said.”
Jessica would warrant that the creek ahead of them was the surprise Finn had spoken of this morning. Just the thought of fresh, cool, running water made Jessica’s heart beat faster. “That’s the best news I’ve heard all day,” she said, already plotting her strategy. “Maybe we can gather up all the ladies and go as a group.”
“Not unless we have some menfolk to watch out for us,” Arlois said sharply. “I wouldn’t put it past those scruffy young miners to sneak up and take a peek if they got the chance. I doubt David would let me go without him tagging along.” Her eyes lit with mischief. “Of course, he’s liable to sneak a peek himself.”
Jessica felt a tinge of envy as Arlois spoke of her good-looking husband. She’d never had such rapport with Lyle, but the prospect might be feasible with a man such a Finn. It was a prize to be considered in the gamble she was considering.
The thought of Gage Morgan’s eyes on her naked body was enough to send goose bumps traveling the length of her frame. In fact, the idea of any man catching a glimpse of her swollen belly and oversize bosom was enough to make her shudder with dread.
Even Finn? The thought rattled her and she closed her eyes. She could almost imagine his warm gaze sliding over her, his callused palms curving beneath her breasts.
“Jessica?” Beside her, Arlois spoke her name and Jessica’s eyelids flew open. “Are you all right? You looked so funny there for a minute. You’re not having any pains, are you?”
Jessica shook her head and dredged up a smile. Not pain, she thought. But an aching void that would only be filled by the tender care and attention of a man—though not just any man would do. Her choice was as good as made.
Even though Gage would yet pursue her, Finn Carson had already won the race.
Chapter Three
The smaller of Jessica’s black kettles was steaming, its contents a savory stew, thanks to a roebuck brought down by one of the miners earlier in the day. The deer had been slaughtered swiftly, the meat passed among the wagons, according to family size, and Jessica had received a small chunk of venison from a hind quarter.
Now it simmered over the fire, having been dredged in flour and browned in lard. Half of her hoarded stash of tiny wild onions, dug from the prairie a few days before, garnished it with an appetizing aroma, Jessica having offered part of the tasty vegetables to the contents of Arlois’s stew pot.
Her small store of potatoes were wizened, but she’d washed three of them and added them, skin and all, to the kettle. Hopefully, the venison would be tender—and well it might—for the deer had been a spike horn. She spared only a moment’s pity for the animal, that his days were cut short by rifle fire.
Months ago she’d have been aghast at the thought of watching an animal butchered, her cooking limited to meat bought at a butcher’s shop. Things had changed, she thought, her spoon mixing a blend of flour, salt and soda. She added a bit of milk, a generous gift from Harv Littleman, whose dainty Jersey cow traveled behind the Littleman wagon every day.
With two little girls along, Harv had brought the animal, knowing full well that finding feed might be a problem. Thus far, the prairie had provided sufficient grass for the cow to produce her usual amount of creamy milk twice a day, and Geraldine had offered the excess in trade for other food to those families with children who had no such milk supply. Several others had their own cows along, with the understanding that should dire need arise, the animals could be slaughtered for food.
What a horrendous idea, Jessica thought, a shiver passing down her spine. Though what difference there was between a cow and the deer she was cooking was obscure, except that the cow was a treasured family possession.
“What are you building there?” Finn asked from behind her. “Whatever you’re cooking, it sure smells like home.” He squatted beside her and peered into the bowl she held. “Biscuits?” he asked.
“I’m going to spoon dumplings on top of the stew,” Jessica answered. “I’ll need the lid for my kettle from the wagon, if you don’t mind sorting through the box for me.”
“I can do that,” he said cheerfully, rising to step up into the wagon bed, and then poked his head from the canvas cover. “Is this it?” He held a black lid in one hand, and eyed the kettle. “There are two of them, but this one looks like it’ll fit.”
Jessica rose from the stump she used as a seat and took it from Finn’s hand. “Thanks, I appreciate your help.”
“Not nearly as much as I’m going to appreciate that kettle of food,” he told her. “And, not nearly as much as you’re going to enjoy my surprise for you.”
She slid a sidelong glance in his direction. “I’ll warrant I know what it is. Arlois told me about the creek even before we got here.” His mouth drooped, an expression she suspected he donned for her enjoyment, and she laughed softly. “You look like a little boy who’s just been denied a candy stick in the general store.”
Finn shook his head. “Women. Can’t put anything over on them. Here I thought I’d spring something on you, and you’re way ahead of me.” He settled beside her, watching as she dropped spoonfuls of the biscuit mix onto the simmering stew. “Does this mean you’re not going to let me finish out my plan?”
She scraped the final bit of dough into the pot and reached for the lid, clapping it in place. “You have a plan? If it involves filling my water barrel, I’m all for it.”
“Well, that, too,” he said teasingly. “I spoke to Harv Littleman and Dave Bates about taking our women to the stream to take baths tonight. Are you willing?”
“Depends,” she said, hesitating as the picture of clear water and a bar of soap tempted her mightily. “Will it be seemly for me to go with you?”
“You ladies can’t go alone,” Finn said firmly. “We’ll take you down to the stream and leave you there while we stand guard. I think there are several other women who want to go along. They’ll join us, and maybe their husbands, too.”
“Arlois said she feared the younger miners might try to sneak a peek at us.”
Finn’s mouth tightened and a stern look touched his features. “Not on your life, sweetheart. It will be as private as if you were in your bathtub in Saint Louis.”
“What
