White Wolf (13 page)

Jessie mumbled something in response to Wolf’s grudging praise. She kept her head down until he left the line. Her lips curved with glee when he sat down with the others and lifted his fork to his lips.

Wolf held the tin plate of food to his nose and sniffed appreciatively. The tantalizing aroma caused his mouth to water in anticipation. Picking up his fork, he scooped a large forkful of beans and rice into his mouth. He chewed, savoring the hot, spicy food. Conversation turned lively as the men seated around him joked and laughed as they ate, complimenting Duarte on the added spice to their meal and going back for more. Normally, trail food leaned toward bland and boring. After one bite, Wolf ate in earnest, enjoying the distinctive fruity flavor that Duarte said made this pepper unique.

But halfway through his meal, he quickly revised his opinion when the inside of his mouth exploded with a burning heat unlike anything he’d ever experienced. The liquid flame spread down his throat and up into his nose and brought tears to his eyes. He dropped his fork, lifted his plate to his mouth and spat out the offensive bite of food. Coughing and gasping for breath, he dropped his plate and ran toward Rook. “Water,” he said in a croak, beads of sweat popping out along his forehead and across the bridge of his nose.

Rook quickly dipped a tin cup into the water barrel and handed it to Wolf. “Here, boss,” he said, a look of concern in his eyes.

Wolf took the cup and drank with the air of a desperate man. After gulping down three more cups of water, he faced Rook. “What the hell did you put in the beans?” he rasped. He held his mouth wide-open, willing the cool air to take away the heat that continued to linger and burn.

Scratching his head, Rook furrowed his brow in confusion. “It ain’t that hot, boss, ’specially since I was real careful not too use too many of them dried peppers, like Duarte warned. Ain’t no one else seems to have trouble.”

Feeling a small measure of relief as the burning began to abate, Wolf couldn’t believe he was the only one to have felt the heat of those damn peppers. Shorty strode past him, shouting, “Hey, kid, dish me up some more of that there grub. Jest make sure there ain’t no peppers in mine. I don’t like my food that hot, only my women,” he joked.

Rook shook a finger at him. “There ain’t no peppers in there, lad. Counted them afore I put ’em in and removed them myself afore I served up.”

Wolf held his plate out to Rook and pointed to what was left of a tiny sliver of red-orange chili. “Yeah? Guess you forgot one,” he said, his throat and lips still burning. “Damn. You trying to do me in?” He straightened as a suspicious thought came to mind. He studied Jessie Jones. Every instinct within him screamed that he’d been one-upped again. He narrowed his eyes and compressed his burning and swollen lips. “Show me the peppers you removed,” he ordered Rook, never taking his eyes off Jessie.

“Now, Wolf—”

“Show me!”

Wolf followed Rook to another wagon, where the back hung down, suspended by two chains to keep it level with the wagon bed. From the waist-high work surface, Rook picked up a tin cup and dumped out the large pepper pieces. With the tip of his knife, he spread them.

He turned in puzzlement. “All there, boss. That piece you got must’ve broken off durin’ the stirrin’.”

Once again, Wolf’s gaze fell on Jessie. “I’m not too sure about that,” he said. Damn. He’d never experienced anything so hot in his life. He took a step toward the boy. If Jessie Jones thought he could make a fool of him, he’d better think again! He planned to give him lots of time to rethink the wisdom of his actions and make him sorry for indulging in his spot of mischief.

Rook’s gnarled fingers bit into his arm. “Now, Wolf, the boy didn’t have anythin’ to do with this. I’m the one who served ya up, not him. Was jest an accident. Why don’t ya have a piece of this here peach pie we has for dessert.”

Wolf glared at Rook but realized his friend was right. He’d look even more the fool if he openly accused the boy. Ignoring Rook’s peace offering, he stalked off. He didn’t believe in accidents. There was no doubt in his mind—not one little bit—that Jessie Jones had somehow managed to sabotage his meal. His jaw tightened. Young Jess would soon find himself with so much work on his hands that he’d be too tired to cause any more trouble.

The sounds of fiddle, song and laughter floated across the night air. Small glowing fires danced in the darkness along both sides of the Kansas River, sending smoky fingers upward to obscure the brightness of the heavens and settle over the water, cloaking the land, giving it a soft, muted look.

Several westward-bound parties had joined together for an evening of merrymaking. The young folk danced to the merry tunes of fiddles, work-weary women gathered together with their mending to enjoy a good gossip, while the young children ran gleefully across the green grass. Sitting apart, small groups of men gathered around campfires to smoke, pass around a flask of whiskey and compare notes and stories about the Oregon and California trails.

Guarding the oxen a short distance away, Jessie stared out toward the haze-shrouded river, longing to be a part of that joyous gathering of people who had only one common interest: reaching the new lands that promised richer lives. Turning away from the sight, she walked past the herd of oxen until she came to a lone tree. She leaned against the thick trunk and slid down it, her back resting against the rough bark as she kept watch over the livestock. Except for Sadie, who lay asleep a few feet away, she was by herself. Once again, she was on the outside looking in. Unbidden, tears of self-pity spilled down her cheeks.

Resting her head on her knees, she knew tiredness played a part in her weepiness. On top of the endless list of chores Wolf found for her to do, her clandestine late-night walks were taking their toll. How she longed for a solid night’s sleep. Lifting her head, she let the music flow through her. After a while, the sounds of the fiddles faded to the haunting harmony of several mouth organs. Jessie reached into her pocket to withdraw her own musical instrument. She lifted it to her lips and added a fourth part.

When the last notes died away, she began to play a soft, sad solo. Sadie crawled over and nudged her, then lay down with a low whine. Halfway through the tune, she stopped, unable to finish. She brought her thighs up to her chest and propped her arms across her knees. Chin resting on her fist, she stared into the gray-black of the night.

Wolf stood in the shadows, riveted to the spot. He’d come to check on Jessie Jones but had stopped when he heard the mournful notes. The sound made him feel like a low-down snake for assigning the boy guard duty when he’d been looking forward to having some fun with the others. His actions left him feeling small and petty—even though Jessie deserved it after that last prank. In fact, to his disgust, some part of him admired the boy’s spirit. There weren’t very many men alive brave enough to put thorns in his bedroll or peppers in his food.

When the softly played tune ended, guilt mingling with anger made his voice harsher than he’d intended as he jerked his thumb toward the river. “Go on, get outta here. You’re relieved.”

Startled, Jessie jumped up with a cry of surprise. A shaft of moonlight filtered down past the haze of smoke. Wolf found himself staring into eyes filled with wary disbelief.

Jessie’s jaw shot forward. “You’re relieving me of guard duty?”

Wolf folded his arms across his chest and stared down at the boy. When he noticed the trail of dried tears on each side of his face, he felt another twinge of guilt for being so hard on him. He resolved to go easier on the kid. “Look, do you want to join your brothers for a while or not?” he said with a growl.

The transformation was immediate and startling. The boy’s eyes sparkled like glittering jewels, and his lips curved into a wide grin. “Oh, yes, thank you, Wolf,” Jessie cried out joyously.

Wolf froze, all his senses alert and screaming. The blood roared in his ears, muting the drifting sounds of music, laughter and the barking of a dog. The youngest Jones boy had looked almost beautiful with the soft glow of moonlight illuminating his wide green eyes, and his wide grin gave his lips a lush fullness in a face that seemed far too delicate for a boy.

A startling thought flashed through his mind. Jessie Jones would have made one hell of a beautiful woman. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. His gaze tracked Jessie running across the grass with Sadie. Jessie Jones? The truth hit him like a thunderbolt. Jessie Jones wasn’t an adolescent boy. Jessica Jones was a girl on the brink of womanhood. He laughed, the sound more of a bark. “You’re crazy!” But in his gut, he knew he wasn’t.

Suddenly all the little things that had nagged at him made sense: Rook’s protective attitude toward Jessie, the graceful way she moved, her ease with cooking, but most of all, it explained why James hadn’t told him he’d had another brother. He didn’t. He had a younger sister. Thinking back to that night in the barn, Wolf cursed when he recalled how James had tried to tell him that he’d made other arrangements for Jessie to come out to Oregon.

Wolf’s gut tightened painfully as anger overwhelmed him. The truth had been there all along, staring him in the face, but he’d been blind to it.

After the evening festivities broke up, Jeremy and James insisted on walking Jessie back to her wagon. She didn’t mind. It gave them more time together. They wound their way around wagons and canvas tents in companionable silence. After an evening of visiting and listening to conversation about what to expect during the upcoming days and months along the trail, Jessie felt pleasantly relaxed.

Nearing the Macauley tent, she yawned, more than ready to crawl into her bedroll and sleep. “What time do you go on duty, James?”

“We’re both on as soon as we get back. Wanted to make sure you made it back without getting into mischief. Now, be good, brat.” James fixed her with his big-brother stare. “And no more of those pepper pranks.”

Jessie stopped. “Me?” She couldn’t keep the glee from her voice, and James nailed her with his no-nonsense glare.

“I’m warning you, Jess. No more. It’s a wonder Wolf didn’t beat you.”

She giggled. “That’s ’cause he can’t prove I had anything to do with it. After all. Rook served him, not me.”

“Yeah, you were lucky this time. Now—”

An angry shout followed by the reverberating sound of a sharp slap interrupted his lecture.

Jessie stopped in her tracks and stared at the Macauley tent. Her eyes narrowed and she clenched her fists at her sides. Drunk, Birk was mean as a torn turkey, and she knew he’d spent most of his evening drinking with a bunch of rough-looking men heading for California.

James reached out and grabbed hold of her upper arm. “Come on, Jess.”

But when the angry shouting continued, followed by another slap and the whimper of a scared child, Jessie glared at her brother and tried to break free. “Let go,” she said.

James tightened his grip. “Stay out of it, Jess.” Jeremy moved closer on her other side, and the two men hustled her away.

When James released her beside her wagon, she rounded on him. “James—”

“No!” His voice was a harsh whisper. “It’s not any of our concern.”

Jessie’s jaw fell open in disbelief. “He’s drunk, James. He’ll hurt her or the children.” She stared at her brothers, bewildered by their lack of compassion. “You’ve taught me to stand up for what’s right. What he’s doing is wrong. Eirica needs our help,” she pleaded, glancing from James to Jeremy when it was apparent she’d get no help from her oldest brother. Jeremy stared at his feet.

From the first night on the trail when she’d heard Birk’s loud rutting, Eirica’s plight had haunted Jessie. Hearing a private act hadn’t bothered her—living in such close quarters on the trail, it was inevitable. No, what upset her was the soft weeping that had followed.

Since that night, she’d lain awake, sometimes for hours, attempting to blot out the sounds of Birk’s harsh anger, the sound of flesh meeting flesh, a crying child, and finally Eirica’s humiliation. She’d tried taking her bedroll as far from the Macauley tent as possible, but no matter how far she went, she knew he was terrorizing his wife and children. She glared toward the Macauley tent. How she hated the abuse and longed to do something to stop it.

James dug his fingers into her shoulders and shook her to get her attention. “I know that look, Jess. Forget it. I forbid it! We are staying out of it—all of us, and that includes you. Leave it alone, hear me?”

Jessie stared at him in surprise. James was furious, his features cold and forbidding. Gone was her normally easygoing brother.

“Do you hear me, Jess?” James shook her again.

She nodded. “I hear you,” she whispered.

James released her arm and stalked off without another word.

Jessie rubbed her arms as she watched him go, confused by his strange behavior. She glanced at Jeremy, but he stuck his hands deep into his pockets and refused to meet her gaze.

“What’s going on with him, Jeremy?” she whispered.

Releasing his breath, he glanced down at her, his green eyes shadowed with worry. “You know he don’t like seeing women being beat up on.”

“Then why won’t he do something? Why won’t he let me help Eirica?”

Jeremy put his arm around her shoulders. Brother and sister stared off into the dark. “I don’t know, Jessie, but he’s right about one thing. You keep away from Birk Macauley. He’s a mean bastard who won’t tolerate interference from anyone. I don’t want you getting hurt. Remember that.” With another quick hug, he left.

Jessie stood alone, tired and utterly drained. Voices from the Svenssons’ tent drifted by as the older boys returned to camp. Then silence fell. Shivering in the growing coolness, she finally grabbed her bedroll and unrolled it beneath her wagon. Leaving her boots on, she crawled on top of her blankets and watched the Macauley tent with her chin propped on her fists. Her work this night was not yet done. After what she’d heard earlier, she knew Eirica would need her tonight.

Jessie yawned again. The soothing sounds of crickets and other nighttime insects lulled her. But she didn’t give in to the overwhelming desire to close her eyes for even a moment. Instead, she concentrated on the noises around her: the sounds of snoring, Sadie’s soft whimpers
as she chased a rabbit in her sleep, the pop of burning embers and the occasional howl of a lone coyote calling his mate.