Always and Forever (21 page)

“Well, uh, no.”

“Any collateral?”

“No.”

“Then that clerk of mine was right to tell you no. Anything else?”

Evidently he had nothing more to say. He spun around and went back down the hill.

“Bravo,” Blake crowed quietly, once they were alone again.

His support made her feel good. “Thank you. And to think I thought myself in love with that bounder. Mistake, indeed.”

Blake’s chuckle floated on the night breeze. “Remind me to stay on your good side. You sliced him up so politely, he didn’t even realize he was bleeding until it was too late.”

Grace allowed herself a smile as she felt her anger slip away. “The nerve of him, but he’s getting his just desserts, mark my words. Now that he and his bride have returned from the wedding trip, Amanda’s been parading him around like a farmer with a two-headed goat. There are going to be soirees, dinners, teas. I’m glad I’ll be gone all summer so I won’t have to attend. Once Amanda gets done with him, he’ll wish he’d never met her or her mother.”

“Is it really going to be that bad?”

“Trust me. I’ve known Amanda Young my whole life and she never wastes an opportunity to show off a new bauble. When we were seventeen, her papa bought her a bracelet from Paris, and I swear she wore it everyday for six months. She kept thrusting her wrist in our faces, saying, ‘Have I shown you the French bracelet my papa
gave me? Have I shown you the French bracelet my papa gave me?’ Everyone grew quite tired of it right quickly, I must say.”

“Sounds to me like maybe Garth ought to be gone one morning when Amanda wakes up.”

Grace drawled, “Only in his dreams. Amanda will probably chain him in at night just to keep that from happening.”

He laughed. “You have a real wicked streak, do you know that?”

She turned and gave him a dazzling smile. “I’m just a hardworking woman banker, Mr. Blake, nothing more.”

“You’re also a very beautiful one, Grace Atwood.”

Grace fought to free herself from the powerful pull of his presence. She told him plainly, “Jackson, the last man who tried to convince me of that just marched back down the hill. Forgive me if I seem a bit skeptical.”

He nodded his understanding, “But what happened between you and Sir Garth has no bearing on my thinking. You are a beautiful woman, Grace.”

Grace drew in a shaky breath as his finger slowly traced her bottom lip. Bells chimed and she knew good and damn well that she should leave the rise as quickly as her feet could carry her because of the women staring up at them, but his caress made her feel so out of touch with everything but him she didn’t want to flee.

Her blood was fairly singing with anticipation. “Don’t you dare kiss me in front of all those women down there.”

“Why not?” he asked in a husky but amused voice. “I’ll bet if I asked them, they’d tell me to go ahead.”

Before Grace could say a word in response, he hollered down, “Should I kiss her?”

The brides who were gathered below lifted their laughing voices in unison. “Yes!”

So he did.

And when he turned her loose, Grace had a vague sense of people cheering and hooting, but little else. “Wait until I get you alone, Jackson Blake,” she managed to say threateningly, but smiling.

“I was thinking the exact same thing.”

Grace playfully socked him in the arm and took off down the hill. The brides greeted her with more hooting and hollering and an embarrassed Grace could do nothing but grin foolishly as she retook her position at the laundry tubs.

Her laundry companions were all smiles as Trudy cracked, “Now, that’s a man!”

Grace agreed.

During the days that followed, Grace and the others learned such things as first aid, harness mending, and how to make smokeless fires. They practiced tying down their wagon canvases in the middle of the night, and compass reading. True to his word, Jackson kept a lid on his temper and answered each and every question, no matter how silly.

As Grace lay in bed that night, she admitted that Jackson was making her crazy. He hadn’t said more than two words personally to her since the day on the hill. One minute he was kissing her and the next minute he was avoiding her like she had the plague. Was he beginning to lose interest? She supposed it was possible and she found the prospect upsetting. After all, in society’s eyes she was nothing more than a nearly thirty-year-old redheaded spinster. Did he see her that way too? Maybe he had lost interest. Grace willed herself not to think about it and drifted off to sleep.

It was now the last week of May and the weather had turned hot and muggy. Grace’s work group had been rotated to the cooking crew. Because of that they had to get up at dawn in order to prepare breakfast.

On the morning of May 31, Grace was the first member of her group to arrive for duty. She was just about to fire up the cookstove when Jackson appeared. Determined not to let him anywhere near her already bruised feelings, Grace said emotionlessly, “Good morning. Coffee will be ready in just a moment.”

“No hurry.” He took a seat at the trestle table near her and watched her silently.

Ignoring him as much as was able, Grace set a fire beneath the big vat of water that would soon hold the grits, then began on the coffee.

“Grace, can you and the ladies be ready to leave in two days’ time?”

His words caught her so off guard that for a moment she could only stare. Then she smiled. “Why, yes. Do you think we’re ready?”

He nodded.

She was so excited she wanted to kiss him. “Can I tell the others?”

“Whenever you like.”

“Thank you, Jackson, for everything.”

“You’re welcome.”

After breakfast Grace made the announcement and the news was greeted by cheers that filled the valley. The prospect of finally getting on the road had everyone smiling, and the women began loading their belongings into their respective wagons. Even the Mitchell sisters were happy, although no one believed it would last for very long.

The women worked late into the night and many were assisted by family members who’d driven back to see
their brides off. Belle Cannon’s parents were among that group and according to Loreli, Belle’s father had been adamantly opposed to Belle’s leaving.

“So, how did Belle react?” Grace asked Loreli as they talked about it later.

“She was respectful but ignored him. Her parents spent the whole time bickering.”

Grace sought Belle out the next morning and found her sitting outside her tent reading her Bible. “Morning, Belle.”

“Hello, Grace.”

“Are you excited about leaving?”

“Excited and a bit frightened.”

“Why frightened?”

“Because I don’t know what the future will bring.”

“I heard from Loreli that your father doesn’t want you to leave.”

She looked sad for a moment. “No, he doesn’t. He can’t understand why I’d want to do this. Says I shouldn’t be going so far away to marry a man I’ve never met.”

“He’s just concerned.”

“His only concern is who’s going to wait upon him once I’m gone. You see, I do all the washing, cooking, and cleaning. Mother hasn’t lifted a broom or a pot in years.”

Grace nodded solemnly. “So are you going to pass as a widow once we reach Kansas City?”

“I’m still pondering that.”

“Is there any chance the baby’s father will acknowledge his child?”

Belle shook her head. “No, he’s married and has four children.”

Grace wanted to take a buggy whip to the man. She remembered Reverend Petrie saying the baby’s father
was a deacon in Grace’s father’s church. “Whatever decision you make, you’ll have my support.”

“Thank you, Grace.”

Grace gave her a pat on the shoulder, then left her to her reading. As she was walking across the camp she was stopped by Katherine Wildhorse.

“I wanted you to take a look at this journal entry just to make sure you approve. I’m going to wire it back to my editor, Geoff, hoping he’ll send it on to newspapers across the country. I think this is an historic undertaking, and folks in other places may be interested.”

Grace took the paper and read:

Tonight, 35 women of the race prepare to embark upon a unique journey. They’re bound for Kansas—not as Exodusters fleeing the madness in the South, but to become brides to men they have only seen sketched in a portrait. Some of the families are distraught over the idea of their beloved daughters and sisters traveling the vast plains alone to marry men they’ve never met, but the women are determined and resolute in their desire to go. There are only two men on this journey, the wagonmaster and the guide. While the men predict the journey would test the courage of even the strongest man, they are confident the women will succeed.

Your agent,
Brother K. Love

“This is simply wonderful,” Grace exclaimed. “But who is Brother K. Love?”

“Me. Some newspapers won’t accept items from a woman, so at times I pose as a man.”

Grace understood. “Well, one day things will change.”

“I agree, but if I have to keep up the masquerade until then, so be it.” Katherine smiled and headed off to continue her own preparations for departure.

The women spent the first day of June dismantling the camp. This would be the last night the tents would be used. Down came the laundry, the clotheslines, and Wilma Deets’s makeshift hairdressing shop. The trestle tables were stacked and ready to be placed into one of the supply wagons. The weather was hot and muggy. The humidity had been building steadily for the last four or five days, making everyone wish for a good hard rain. The wish for rain was a double-edged sword, however; yes, everyone wanted it to rain, but no one wanted to begin the journey to Kansas hip deep in mud and soaked to the skin.

By the end of the day, Jackson went back to his tent one tired wagonmaster. He and Dix had spent every waking hour supervising the departure preparations. They’d scanned every inch of each and every wagon one last time in a search for damage or defects; helped the ladies load grandfather clocks, rocking chairs, and sea chests so heavy they had to be filled with rocks. He’d pulled and tested the tightness of the ropes lashing the water barrels to the wagons and made a few women redo the ones that failed his inspection. He’d loaded the supply wagons, fed the animals, and ignored the Mitchell sisters’ complaints about their place in line; it seemed they didn’t want their wagon anywhere near the one being driven by Loreli.

The remembrance of that encounter made him rub his hands over his weary eyes and once again wonder whatever had possessed him to think he could handle this. Admittedly the women had passed each and every test and he was real proud of them, but it was going to be
a long, rough drive if he had to listen to petty whining from women like the Mitchell sisters the entire way.

And Grace, what was he going to do about her? Not being able to resolve the dilemma she presented was keeping him up at night. As much as he desired her, he already knew he couldn’t have her the way he wanted her; not always, not forever, because he had too much pride. He couldn’t give her the material things she’d grown up accustomed to having, and with Texas clouding his future, he couldn’t make a commitment to her on any level.

The only logical thing to do was to stay away from her, period, but he didn’t want to do that either. The prospect of not being able to take her in his arms and reacquaint himself with the sweet, hot rush of her kiss or hear her sigh when he brushed his lips across the tops of her breasts was keeping him up at night.

He had no business leaving her dangling this way, but he’d never been in a situation like this before. He’d always preferred cathouse ladies. No claims, no commitments. Six months ago, had someone told him he’d be mooning over a bad-tempered red-haired hellion of a lady banker with buccaneer bloodlines, he’d’ve taken away their tequila. Yet here he sat, wishing for some tequila of his own so he could temporarily banish his need for her.

In the end, his heart won out over his pride. He left the tent to seek her out. The sooner he talked to her, the sooner she could get on with her life and the sooner he could get some sleep.

A weary Grace had just changed into her nightgown in anticipation of a much-needed sleep. She’d spent the day loading her wagon, helping other women load theirs, and overseeing the dismantling of the camp. Now, all she wanted to do was sleep. She was just about to blow
out her lantern when she heard, “Knock, knock.”

She stilled at the familiar sound of Jackson’s voice and the familiar lurch of her heart. “Just a moment,” she called back in reply. She put on her robe. “Come in.”

As he entered her firsts thoughts were,
Why did he have to be so handsome? If he’d had the face of a goat maybe he wouldn’t move her so.

“Evening, Grace.”

“Jackson. Is everything coming together?”

“Yep. We should be able to leave on schedule.”

“Good.”

The air between them was thick as the humid night.

“I need to talk to you about something.”

“Go ahead.”

Wondering what this might be about, she steeled herself and waited for him to find the words.

Jackson’s whole being screamed that he not do this, but his mind was made up. “You and I have had a good time these past few weeks and I—”

“You want to bring it all to a halt,” she stated.

He went silent.

“I’m no naive ingenue, Jackson. If you’ve lost interest, fine.”

“Grace—”

“No explanations are needed,” she told him. “It’s been fun, really, and I see no reason why we can’t remain friends.”

Her heart was breaking, but she’d be damned if she’d show it.

Jackson was a bit taken aback by her emotionless acceptance. He’d expected—hell, he didn’t know what he’d been expecting. It was as if she were the one intent upon ending things between them. She’d accused him of losing interest, and although that had nothing to do with his reasoning, he couldn’t help wondering if she
were the one who’d lost interest instead. That thought didn’t sit well.