Echoes (30 page)

At last she saw him. He was there, huddled in a clearing. "Arlie," she called, but the voice was in her head. "Arlie!"

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Molly woke with a start in the thick blackness of the wagon. She sat bolt upright, eyes wide with the nightmare. The air was so tight it felt like a cocoon made of wool, but it was the fear that tried to suffocate her. She turned so that she could see Arlie, nestled at the front of the wagon, inches from her own head. He slept peacefully, content and safe beside her.

Three nights now she'd dreamed that she was searching for him through a frenzy of crisscrossing screaming people in a night lit by fire. The smoke choked and blinded her and the feeling that she'd never find him clutched at her heart. And then, at last, she saw him in the center of the chaos, but seconds before her fingers would close on his arm, she awoke, drenched in the sweat of fright and gasping for air. She didn't believe in premonition, but the dreams haunted her and she could not escape their frightening evocations.

Knowing she would never get back to sleep, she rose. It was Sunday, but months of life on the trail had ingrained in her a wake up call that came long before dawn. Glad to have something to do beyond thinking of her nightmare, she started the fire and set coffee to boil. The pungent scent of the buffalo chip fire she built filled the air. The smoke invariably attracted the vicious black gnats that had traveled the
Platte River with them and this morning was no exception. She slapped at the annoying pests as she prepared breakfast.

By midmorning, she'd scrubbed their clothes and hung them out to dry. Still, the horrible dream kept her wrapped in its sticky threads, as prevalent as the swarming insects and unending dust. Sensing her preoccupation, Arlie had spent the morning adding to her vexation with incessant whining and mischief.

For a short time a young girl that belonged to the O'Keefe family came by to visit. She was one of many children, so many that Molly had long ago given up trying to count them. Plump to the point of excess, Alice Ann teetered in the delicate balance between being a child and a young adult. More than once Molly had caught her staring with adulation at Brodie.

Molly thought her to be around eleven or twelve, though her pudgy face and portly body made it hard to estimate with accuracy. Normally Alice Ann had a sweet disposition and at times she would play with Arlie, but Molly didn't trust her to watch the baby alone. There was a bit of the devil in Alice Ann and she wasn't above teasing or stealing one of Arlie's playthings.

Molly was not happy to see Alice Ann this morning, but hoped she'd keep Arlie occupied at least until she could finish hanging their clothes to dry. As if the very thought had jinxed the wish, however, the girl soon walked off, leaving Arlie frustrated and angry with something she'd done, but unable to voice his complaint.

"What happened?" Molly crooned as she bounced Arlie on her hip. Arlie pointed a slippery finger at Alice Ann's back and howled crossly.

Unconcerned with the havoc she'd left behind, Alice Ann strolled idly away. As she drew even with Brodie, however, she paused. Molly watched uneasily as the girl affected a flirtatious pose that came across vulgar on the young and overweight girl. She couldn't hear what was said, but Brodie's head snapped around and he stared at Alice Ann with a look of interest. He stepped closer to her, closer than propriety allowed by any stretch. Alice Ann fawned and giggled. To Molly's shock, the girl moved closer still and rubbed her plump breasts against Brodie's chest. Brodie leaned down and said something softly in her ear and then walked away.

With a whirl that could not contain her excitement, Alice Ann called, "I will," to his back as he disappeared.

"Alice Ann," Molly called.

The chunky girl faced Molly with a look of surprise and petulance. Reluctantly she returned to the wagon where Molly waited.

Molly noted that she was flushed and a dew of perspiration covered her upper lip. "What were you speaking to Mr. Weston about?"

"Nothing," Alice Ann answered.

"Most certainly it was something, Alice Ann." Molly waited, but the girl remained silent. "Dear, you are far too young to be engaging in baited conversation with Mr. Weston. He is much older than you. He's nearly a man and you are a still a child."

"I'll be thirteen at Christmas."

Molly gave her a gentle smile. "Still too young. You wish to become a respectable woman, do you not?"

Alice Ann nodded, but she didn't raise her eyes to meet Molly's. Thinking of Vanessa and feeling a hypocrite for it, she said, "Of course you do, child. Respectable women have their choice of handsome men. Women who behave without discipline do not."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Now you run along home to your mother and don't dawdle on the way. Do you understand?"

Alice Ann gave a resentful nod and then headed in the direction of her family's wagon.

Molly brooded over the incident as she returned to her laundry. What had Alice Ann and Brodie been discussing? What had he said to her that she'd answered, "I will?" Whatever it was, Molly could not ignore it. Should Brodie dally with the young girl's affections, only trouble would come of it. She would speak to Adam and let him intervene before it was too late. Feeling better for the decision, she just managed to hang the last bit of her laundry when she caught sight of Arlie, naked as the day he was born, slipping out of the wagon where he'd played quietly for all of three minutes.

"Arlie!" Molly said sternly. "You come back here."

Barefoot and bent on trouble, Arlie let loose a sound of pure glee and took off running in the opposite direction. The little devil! Molly lifted her skirts and chased him.

Arlie's laughter rang out as he raced away from her. Dead ahead was the roped off area for the mulling oxen and cows. Arlie was headed straight at them. Molly picked up her speed, but before she could close the gap Adam appeared and scooped Arlie up into the air. He whirled him around as Arlie shrieked with delight.

"Are you up to no good again?" Adam asked him, holding him so that he could see Molly's scowl. "I think Molly's ready to twist you into a knot."

Indeed she was.

"But it just so happens, you are a
very
lucky little boy," Adam said, still talking to his son, but watching Molly. "I've got a surprise for the both of you."

"Adam, I am glad to see you," Molly said, letting go her irritation with Arlie in her concern about Brodie and Alice Ann. "As it happens, I need to speak with you. I've something important to discuss."

"Fine. Grab some clean clothes and towels," he said.

Molly stared at him blankly. What on earth was he talking about? And what was he saying, surprise? Then she noticed that
he
had on clean clothes and his hair was damp. His skin had the healthy luster of a recent washing and… She inhaled. He smelled as clean as the fresh laundry she'd just hung to dry.

"Soap too?" she asked.

He winked at her. A few months ago she would have been much discomfited by a conversation that included mixed company, fresh clothing, and soap. Since then the wear and tear, the filth and grime of the journey had greatly altered her perspective on matters of importance—or matters that lacked any importance at all. A few months ago, she'd been a different woman.

Without hesitation she hurried back to the wagon. Rosie hadn't been feeling well for several days, but this morning had claimed to be fit enough to visit Mrs. Imogene, a "neighbor" to whom she'd discovered a distant kinship. And as for Brodie, that could wait. He was probably off milling around one of the many groups of Indians that seemed to be ever present. They came to trade and barter. More than one native had outwitted Brodie, yet he seemed incapable of resisting their lure.

She grabbed towels, soap and a change of clothes for both her and the baby and stuffed them into a canvas bag. In moments she was following Adam away from the circle of wagons. They'd had to camp a good distance from the river, much farther than usual due to the fact that the grass had been chewed to the dirt by the companies ahead of them, leaving nothing but mud to feed their livestock. They'd left behind the blur that had been Nebraska and crossed into the Wyoming territory and each step forward seemed to bring new troubles. The feed was harder and harder to come by as they progressed. In fact,
everything
was harder to acquire.

When they'd first set camp, Molly had been disheartened by the distance to the river. All she could think of was that the dishwater would have to be hauled, as well as drinking water, as well as laundry as well as…

Adam followed a narrow Indian trail that curved left from the river and came to a sandy banked creek. A steep ravine led down to a sheltered place where two streams met. One gushed from a rocky shelf and the second bubbled up in a pool. Still holding the squirming naked Arlie, Molly followed him down to the banks.

"It's not very deep, but it's warmer than you'd expect," Adam told her with a proud smile.

"Oh, my," she gasped, giving a little spin of excitement.

The
Platte River was thought of as their guiding companion and most bitter of enemies. Often sluggish and filled with dirt, it could be counted on only to defy any preconceived ideas of what a river
should
be. The jeering description which passed from one emigrant to another was that it was "too thick to drink and too thin to plow." Molly had been amused by the saying the first time she'd heard it, but it had long since lost its humor.

This water, clear and sparkling, noisy and gay was as unexpected as it was delightful.

"I'll sit out there on that big boulder and make sure no one bothers you," Adam said. "When you finish with Arlie, give a shout and I'll take him so you can have some time alone."

She stared at the lovely, private bathtub and then at Adam who looked so pleased with his surprise that she wanted to throw her arms around him.

"Go on, get in," he said as he stepped out of sight to keep watch.

Arlie wasted no time making a charge for the pool, but Molly caught his arm and stopped him short. "You wait for me, Arlie or I'll call your father to deal with you."

Arlie harkened her warning and waited quietly by the edge of the pool, squirming with impatience. Molly stripped down to her undergarments and climbed into the cool water with the naked baby. Arlie took a gasping breath in and let it loose on a joyous squeal. Laughing, Molly held him while he splashed and kicked across the pool. After awhile, Molly lathered Arlie up with soap. He became a slippery fish and slid out of her grip. He plunged under the surface before she could pull him back up, sputtering with shock.

She waited for the inevitable cry but instead he shouted, "Agin, Mawee. 'Agin, 'gin!"

Laughing she dunked him and pulled him up to his heart's content. From the boulder where he waited, Adam's low chuckle carried.

"I think he is a swimmer, Adam," she called. And then, "Come see him."

The words were out before she realized what she'd said. The inappropriateness of his standing on the other side of the precipitous rocks while she bathed would have sent the Reverend into seizures. Inviting him to join her in the inner sanctum …. There was no way around it. She'd be damned to hell. But she couldn't find the words to retract the invitation.

Adam's silence and hesitation charged the moments before the shuffle of his footsteps proceeded his appearance. A shiver slicked down her chilled skin as she stared up at him. He was so tall, so powerfully built, so gentle and forgiving, so hard and unrelenting. The miles of living together had honed her attraction to him until he'd become, quite simply, the center of her world.

His eyes glittered from beneath the shadowed brim of his hat and she felt the sensation of them moving like quicksilver over her face, her neck, then down to her shoulders, covered though they were by her white chemise. Arlie shouted with happiness and arched his body backwards so quickly that he slipped out of her grasp again. She scooped him back up, thankful for the distraction…though nothing could lessen her awareness of his father.

Adam stepped to the side of the pool and hunkered down. He skimmed the water with his fingertips and Molly instantly pictured his hands gliding over her wet skin. Good Lord, she felt giddy with the image.

Arlie splashed her. "'Gin," he urged.

Dutifully Molly held him and swam him round the circle, letting him dunk under and surface for his father. Adam smiled and praised his son, but Molly felt the intensity of his distraction every time his gray eyes met hers.

After a few moments, he said softly, "Time to get out, son. Let's go find your grandma."

Arlie complained bitterly and loudly, squirming and fighting them both. He evaded Adam's reaching hands, nearly toppling his father, clothes and all, into the shallow reservoir. Finally Molly managed to get him in a sound grip and waded out to hand him over. Adam took the drenched bundle, immediately dampening his own clothes as he held Arlie tight while Molly fetched the towel. As she wrapped it around the child, she found Adam staring at her, his eyes the color of streaming rain, his look the temperature of steam.

Her chemise clung to her skin. She didn't need to look down to know that the dripping material was translucent and that she might as well have been standing naked. His gaze moved from her face to her throat and she swallowed, taking a deep breath that seemed to pull that look lower to her breasts. Her nipples stood like hard pebbles, pushing out against the soaked cotton. Adam's gaze moved back to her face, staring deeply into her eyes with a look of helpless demand that turned the flames of embarrassment into a burn of desire.