A Hero's Heart Page 13

  Everyone was safely accounted for. Everyone but Becky.

  Wade took the first watch. Grace and Toby were already in bed, worn out from the long day.

  Mary had taken Daniel into her wagon for the night. Taking care of a baby would keep her mind occupied.

  A coyote howled in the darkness, the sound frighteningly lonely.

  Since the wagon trail had stopped for the evening, Becky hadn’t returned. She’d spent the afternoon walking with some of the other women, but tonight Rachel had searched the camp, unable to locate her sister.

  Her mind refused to contemplate where Becky might be—and with whom. Finally, as the moon climbed toward its highest point, Becky came strolling into camp as if she were returning from a social. She hummed a perky tune under her breath as she skipped along, unaware that Rachel sat there, waiting.

  When she saw her sister, the song on her lips suddenly died, the skip in her step slowed.

  “Why are you still up?” she asked cautiously.

  Rachel said calmly, “I was worried about you.”

  Becky laughed. “Didn’t I tell you? The Simpsons wanted me to have supper with them tonight?”

  The lie slipped so easily off Becky’s tongue that, for a moment, Rachel was stunned. “No. You didn’t.”

  Shrugging, her sister said, “I told Toby. He was supposed to tell you. That boy never can remember anything.”

  Rachel couldn’t help but test to see just how far the girl would go. “It’s kind of late for you to have stayed at their wagon.”

  She’d passed the Simpsons’ wagon several times during the evening with no sign of Becky. Her sister was lying and Rachel knew it.

  “Afterwards, we sat and talked around the fire. They really are a very friendly couple. When they reach Oregon, they’re going to start a farm.”

  “How nice,” Rachel said dryly. “You seem to be out quite a bit lately. I’m glad to see you’re making friends.”

  “It’s still not like back home. But a girl has to do something for entertainment.”

  “I hope your entertainment would not cause anyone harm, Becky.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Becky sounded defensive.

  “I know you weren’t with the Simpsons tonight. I went to their wagon. You weren’t there.”

  Becky rolled her eyes at her sister. “You worry about every little thing, Rachel,” she replied nervously. “You can put your suspicions to rest. Emily and I went for a walk.”

  Rachel enjoyed a sense of relief before the doubts begin to set in. The answer was much too simple. Still, it was possible the girls had gone for a stroll. And at least by being with Emily, she hadn’t been with Ethan. She had to believe Becky.

  “I knew you had a sensible answer. Just be careful. I worry about you.”

  “Don’t. I can take care of myself,” Becky replied and turned her back on Rachel and sashayed to the tent.

  * * *

  Several busy days passed and Rachel saw very little of Mary. The trail had once again become extremely difficult, the roads mountainous and rocky as they crossed through an area known as Idaho. Rachel had taken over driving the wagon full-time wary of Becky’s driving abilities on this tumultuous section of the trail.

  Wade had offered to drive, but she’d refused, knowing he was busy scouting ahead with Frank and checking on the stock. Toby and Grace walked beside the wagon, while Becky watched over them.

  And Rachel watched over Becky.

  The last two nights had found Becky sitting around the fire with Rachel and the children. Rachel hoped her talk with Becky had put an end to her sister’s suspicious activities.

  A cool breeze ruffled Rachel’s bonnet as she headed the oxen in a northwesterly direction. As August rolled into September, the mountain air was beginning to get cooler, the nights colder.

  Wade came galloping up on Sadie, dust flying from the horse’s hooves. The man made riding a horse look like a work of art. Something about his graceful movements that set Rachel’s blood afire, her pulse pounding and her heart skipping into next week.

  “We’re about to climb a pretty good incline. Why don’t you let me drive?”

  Rachel turned to Wade. “Is it steeper than we’ve gone up before?

  “No, but the trail is rocky with worn wagon tracks going up the side of the mountain. I think it would be safer if I drove,” he replied.

  With a stubborn shake of her head, Rachel replied, “Take care of the stock. I’m just fine.”

  Frank whistled at Wade, motioning he needed help. “You’re sure you’ll be all right?”

  “I’m quite capable of driving this wagon. Now go away. If I need you, I’ll call.”

  “All right, but I’ll be back to help you up the steepest part of the mountain.”

  She turned her attention back to the trail and noticed for the first time just how steep the trail was becoming. For a moment, a shot of fear ran through her, and she doubted her ability. But there was no turning back, no quitting now. If she stopped to find Wade, the whole train would bog down, and she could already hear his I told you so.

  Still, the wagon in front of her had slowed to almost a crawl, its body shaking as it proceeded up the side of the mountain.

  As the incline increased, the speed of the oxen decreased, their necks bulging under the strain of the heavy load. Grace and Toby walked along either side of the wagon, pointing out the best way up the mountain.

  With a creak and an occasional sliding sound, the pull of gravity shifted the packed boxes inside the wagon. No matter how many times she checked their cargo, something always seemed to come loose during the day.

  Toby called out to her, “Rachel, watch out! There’s a boulder two feet to your left.”

  Rachel pulled hard on the reins trying to make the sluggish oxen turn to the right. They moved with the speed of a tortoise and turning them was like changing the direction of mud. Her timing was off a bit and the front left wheel scraped the side of the huge rock, causing the wagon to shudder.

  Her heart pounded. That had been a close call; the rock might have tipped them over. She slapped the reins across the oxen’s back, trying to urge them on as they slowed even further. It seemed cruel to use the whip on them, but she couldn’t allow them to stop. Stopping on an incline was much too dangerous.

  For just a brief second, she wished she had let Wade drive. Glancing back, she spotted him down at the bottom of the sloop, talking to Mary. At that precise moment, she heard the loud snap of the rope.

  She jerked around in her seat and saw the organ tied to the inside corner of the wagon, sway. One of the two ropes lay loose, hanging. Only the second rope kept the heavy instrument from falling out the back.

  Without thinking, Rachel pulled on the reins, stopping the oxen. Her mother’s organ was at stake.

  Toby called out, “Rachel, keep going. You can’t stop.”

  She pulled on the brake and wrapped the reins around the handle, preparing to alight.

  “The organ is about to fall out. I have to fix it,” she called.

  With a groan, the brakes started to give way and the wagon started to slide backward. The oxen grumbled in fear, straining on their yoke.

  Rachel grabbed the reins. Her heart pounded fiercely in her chest. She wanted to jump out of the wagon and tie the organ back up, but was afraid to move for fear the wagon would roll again. And once it started its backward flight, it would never stop.

  Wade’s frantic yell broke through her panicked thoughts.

  “Rachel, get those oxen moving.”

  His horse came galloping up beside them. She glanced at him with indecision. If she moved, the organ would surely fall. If she didn’t move, the wagon would slide back down the mountain.

  Wade made her decision. He reached over and whacked the backs of the oxen. “Get a move on!”

  Rachel released the brake and popped the reins at the oxen, praying the rope would hold. The wagon slowly started forward.

  T
he second snap sent chills through her. She glanced quickly behind her. The organ swayed and rocked at the back of the wagon like an old man. At this angle, it wouldn’t be long before the beautifully polished instrument toppled out.

  “Dammit, Rachel, keep your eyes on the trail!” Wade yelled, his voice harsh and stern.

  “My mother’s organ!” she cried.

  He glanced behind her. “Keep moving. Don’t stop. Don’t look back.”

  “But the organ is going to fall out.”

  “Keep moving!”

  “But—”

  The wagon gave a sudden lurch, as if belching. Rachel jerked her head around.

  The organ crashed to the hard dirt falling end over end as the thud of splintering wood wrenched her heart. The pipes reverberated with a painful clang that seemed to echo in the still mountain air. The organ splintered, shredding into a thousand pieces, as it came to rest against a rock.

  As the dust settled, Rachel could see that nothing remained but kindling. The ground was littered with splintered wood and ivory. Her heart felt as shattered as the once beautiful organ. Rivulets of tears ran down her face while the oxen suddenly picked up speed, plodding upward.

  Reaching the top of the mountain, Rachel pulled the wagon to a halt. She put her face in her hands and sobbed. Why had this journey cost her everything? Her father, his Bibles, and now her dearest possession, her mother’s organ. A few doilies and linens were the only other things left of her mother.

  Wade rode up and jumped off his horse. “What in the hell were you thinking about, stopping this wagon halfway up that mountain? Were you trying to kill yourself?”

  Rachel raised tear-dampened lashes. She wanted to slap him, to inflict some of the pain she was feeling onto his cold heartlessness. She wanted to make him hurt like she was hurting. Instead, she crawled down from the wagon and stood before him.

  “My mother’s last remaining possession, was about to fall out of the wagon,” she replied, her voice tightly controlled.

  “Did you think saving it was worth risking your life?”

  “Of course. Why else would I have stopped.”

  “You damn pigheaded fool. That could be you down there right now, instead of that blasted organ.”

  “You’ll never understand how I feel. What if it had been your mother’s, Wade?”

  “My mother never would have owned the instrument. And even if she had, she would have been smarter, than to have risked bringing the thing along.”

  Rachel clinched her fists, not caring who heard her. “I suggest you get back to my wagon Wade and do what you were hired to do. I’m going to ride with Mary.”

  * * *

  It was early evening, before Wade had the courage to come into camp. It wasn’t his fault the organ had fallen from the wagon, but she obviously blamed him for the loss, since he’d refused to let her stop the wagon and be dragged to her death.

  He shook his head. The need to see her, check on her one more time to make sure she wasn’t hurt, was overwhelming. But he dreaded facing her wrath once again. He’d already forgiven her remark about his job this afternoon. She was grieving and had wanted to hurt him.

  But his heart still hadn’t recovered from seeing the wagon and her perched perilously on that hill. He’d been so afraid, and yet by some miracle, she’d kept the wagon from rolling back down that mountain.

  The depth of his fear for her had stunned him. What if something happened to her? What if she’d been killed? The situation brought back painful memories and the gravity of his feelings shocked him.

  He refused to fall in love with Rachel. He refused to care for her. They could never be together, but that determination hadn’t helped him today when he’d watched her on that slope. Nothing had stopped the panic that gripped him when the oxen stumbled backward.

  Wade tried to shake off the feelings. She was safe, the children were safe, and yet he felt as if a war raged inside him. He’d tried to detach himself from Rachel, but part of him was somehow connected to her heart and refused to let go. And that scared him, for it left him vulnerable to a hurt bigger than these mountains.

  He stalked into camp, his emotions raw, his need to see Rachel intense. She was bent over the fire, stirring something in a large pot. The fire reflected the soft planes of her face. She looked tired and withdrawn. The day had been tough on her.

  When he spoke, she jumped with fright. “Can I help?”

  “No, thank you,” she replied, her voice cold as she continued to stir the pot without sparing him a glance.

  Frostbite would have been warmer than the reception he received. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Do you want me to call the children for supper?”

  “No.”

  Wade sighed. He was getting nowhere. He watched as she started to lift the pot from the fire.

  “Let me,” he volunteered.

  “No!”

  He tried to warn her. “Rachel—”

  The pot started to slip from the hand that held it with a cloth. She automatically reached out and grabbed it with her free hand before Wade could stop her. She screamed, and the pan dropped with a clank to the ground, spilling the hot stew.

  Rachel cried out, cradling the burned hand to her chest.

  “Let me see,” Wade said as he reached for it.

  At first, she resisted, her arm and hand stiff. But Wade refused to be put off and pulled until her hand was in front of him. The burn appeared red and angry. He led her over, to the water barrel and filled a bowl full of cool water. Gently, he placed her hand in the water, leaving her to soak it while he found the box of emergency supplies Rachel kept stored away.

  When he came back, he took her hand and carefully patted it dry. Her eyes scorched him as he dipped his fingers into the salve and, with tender strokes, rubbed the medicine onto her wound.

  He glanced up to see tears pooled in her fawn-colored eyes.

  “Does it hurt bad?”

  She sniffed. “No.”

  “Then why are you crying?”

  Her bottom lip trembled as the tears flowed in earnest down her cheeks.

  Wade took a clean cloth and wrapped it around her hand, covering the burns. Tying the ends of the bandage, he pulled her onto his lap and kissed away her tears.

  His gentleness turned her tears into sobs, and Wade held her in his arms until her weeping changed to little hiccupping sounds.

  When the storm subsided, he said, “I’m sorry about your mother’s organ. I didn’t want it to end up at the bottom of a mountain, smashed to pieces.” He paused, his voice intense as he held her closer. “But I was so afraid when I saw you stopped on the side of that hill. I was afraid you would end up where the organ eventually landed.”

  Rachel sniffled. “You’ve always wanted to get rid of the organ.”

  “But not this way.”

  “It’s just…it was my mother’s most cherished possession.”

  “I know how much it meant to you, and I’m sorry to see it’s gone. But hasn’t this trip taught you that possessions are not important? What’s important are the memories you have here.” He pointed to her head. “And the feelings you have here.” He pointed to her heart.

  “I know you’re right, but I didn’t want to give up the organ. Sometimes it seems I’ve lost everything precious to me on this trip. Almost as if God is testing me?”

  Wade hugged her tighter to him. If anyone was being tested, it was him. So far, he’d had the strength of a saint, but many more days like today, he’d fail this test.

  “Actually, we’ve been pretty lucky. We’re all healthy.” He paused, gazing into her hazel eyes. “I know that doesn’t make the loss of your father any smaller, or even the loss of the organ any easier, but every day we’re getting closer.”

  And closer meant one less day to spend with Rachel. The thought shook Wade. Did he really want to reach Oregon and give her up?

  Chapter Twelve

  Dear Diary,


  The last two weeks have seemed longer than the entire trip. For four nights we traveled through the desert, bypassing Fort Bridger, to save almost a week’s worth of travel time. When we reached the Bear River, we stopped to rest for a day before continuing to Soda Springs.

  Wade continues to haunt my dreams at night. He has all but discontinued sleeping in the wagon with me. In some ways, I’m grateful, yet I miss him. He comes to camp for his meals and even spends time with the children around the fire.

  I know he watches me, for I have caught him staring, with a strange look in his eyes that leaves me flushed. I must not fall in love with this man.

  The stars were shining bright when the smell of cooking drew Wade into camp.

  At The sound of his boots against the packed earth, she glanced up from dishing plates of stew for the children. Glistening eyes, the color of sweet honey, welcomed him, sending his pulse racing, making his breathing uneven. How could she look so beautiful after a long dusty day on the trail?

  Rachel smiled a warm greeting. “Are you hungry?”

  “Yes,” he said, barely able to get the words out.

  “Join us,” she said, dishing him up a plate.

  He knew he shouldn’t spend time with her, but the longing to sit beside her was more than he could endure. Soft curls escaped her chignon, falling with abandon around her face. Streaks of amber glistened in her tresses, reflecting the firelight. He clenched his fists to keep from stroking the tempting curls.

  She handed him a plate and went back to the task of feeding Daniel, who didn’t seem to appreciate the stew as much as the other children.

  “There’s corn bread on the back of the wagon. You can sit here with me and Daniel, if you don’t mind a fussy little boy.

  “So how many miles did we make today?” Rachel asked, spooning a bite into Daniel’s mouth.

  “Maybe twelve, if we were lucky.” Wade blew on the hot liquid, trying to cool it enough to taste. “We’ll make it across the mountains before the first big snow. Still we shouldn’t tarry. The sooner we get there, the sooner…”

  Wade stopped unable to finish. The sooner they reached Oregon, the sooner he would be leaving Rachel and the children.