Hannah Alexander Page 11

  She bowed her head in gracious acknowledgment. “Thank you. Did you wish to help me with the remainder of my utensils?”

  Light suddenly filled his eyes and he stepped forward like an eager boy. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

  Her heart softened. Little did he know that she would soon be done with her persuasive tactics and take things totally into her own hands. The thought of his anger made her shiver, but he wasn’t giving her a choice.

  * * *

  Joseph watched Victoria wrap boiled cloths around her cleaned utensils, amazed anew by her beauty and strength. She was as dazzling to him as the noonday sun.

  “You haven’t spoken much about your friendship with John Brown,” he said.

  She looked up at him. “I told you plenty of things. We’ve hardly been silent throughout Missouri. Remember the night Deacon Fritz came out looking for us to make sure you’d make it to bed in time to get up to taste his wife’s Dutch-style pancakes for breakfast?”

  “He didn’t care what we ate. He has taken it upon himself to see to the moral aspects of our younger set.”

  “Younger set? He thinks you and I are youngsters?”

  Joseph sighed. “Are you changing the subject? Why did you keep your friendship with John Brown a secret for so long?”

  “A lady doesn’t brag about the famous heroes she’s met in her life. I didn’t tell you until it was vital for you to know.”

  Joseph thought about that. It made sense if one saw things from her perspective. “What bothers me is that in all these weeks we’ve traveled together you haven’t told me some of the most important things.”

  Her movements slowed and she gently laid down her utensil. “Are we still arguing?” Her voice drifted with dangerous softness through the air. She didn’t turn to look up at him. “Because if we are, and I’m distracted enough to pack these utensils poorly, you could be liable for the lives of my patients. Would you wish that on some hapless woman or child?” She turned and looked up at him, her eyes not exactly fiery, but inquisitively intense.

  “Forgive me. I’ve wanted to ask you more about John Brown on several occasions.”

  “He’s a man who believes in the awfulness of slavery—the kind of slavery we practice here in America—with a fierce desperation.”

  “Much like you, then.”

  “And you.”

  Suddenly feeling slightly off balance, Joseph wanted to pelt her with questions, ask her all about the man, what he was like, if his wife ever traveled with him, how he and his dozen or so sons traveled without being killed.

  But Joseph must admit to himself that he’d continued to withhold secrets from Victoria, so he had no reason to be put out because she withheld her own. For instance, how precise was the map she’d so quickly covered when he approached? Did she know exactly how to get to Jolly Mill?

  She returned to her work.

  He cleared his throat. “Victoria,” he said softly, so that the closest neighbor had no chance of hearing him. Her shoulders stiffened, but otherwise she gave no hint that she’d heard.

  He placed his hand on her right shoulder and gently urged her to turn and face him.

  “Careful.” She held up a scalpel as she wrapped it. “These may not be one of those dangerous wolf traps you’re so eager to warn me about, but they are sharp, nonetheless.”

  From recent practice, he knew where her utensils went, so he took the scalpel from her and completed the wrapping. “I did ask you to join me in Georgia.” He still wanted to figure out the mystery of the missing letters, but right now there were more important subjects to discuss.

  “And you knew, before even asking me to go with you, how I felt about living on a plantation shouldered by slave labor.”

  He set the scalpel down. For several years while traveling across the country, he’d bitterly blamed her for ignoring his pleas for her to wait for him. And to discover only recently that she’d never received the pleas...that she’d believed he’d deserted her for another woman... It continued to gouge something deep inside.

  And now, today, he had already pushed the subject too far, but he couldn’t help himself.

  “I admired your decision.” Bowing her head, she traced a finger on the cloth. “Or at least part of me did. The other part hated what you were doing, but I was young and heartbroken.”

  “I knew you were angry.”

  “You never knew how much.”

  “My heart never went back with me to Georgia.”

  Her slender neck curved as she looked at him. He wanted to kiss that neck, the delicate ear behind which she had corralled the hair that was filled with the lightness of morning sunshine. He wanted to trail kisses across her blushing cheekbone and across her chin to dominate her mouth and stop them both from arguing, at least for a few moments.

  “Victoria, I love you.” The words came out before he could stop them, though he knew better. “I loved you then, and nothing has changed. Nothing ever changed.”

  Her eyes grew large at the gentle announcement, and he wondered how often she had been angry with him. How many times had she doubted him after he left her?

  “Until you married Matthew, I believed you were the kind of woman whose heart would remain faithful to one man forever. After what I’ve discovered, I believe you still care.”

  To his dismay, he felt her withdraw without moving a muscle. As if she were still angry with him. But that couldn’t be it. Hadn’t they somehow reconnected on the day of the flood? She’d shown true friendship to him since then, and though they’d argued, there was a good reason for that argument.

  “Victoria?”

  She slowly stepped backward. He couldn’t believe it. He held on to her, reluctant to let go, but she firmly withdrew.

  “Please tell me you aren’t still angry with me after all these years.”

  “No, Joseph, but this is not the time for making declarations of love and promises that may not be kept, and I know you too well, my friend. Don’t you dare use words of love to coerce me from my mission.”

  “Coerce?” He released her with such abruptness that she reached out to catch the smoothed wood of the wagon tailgate. “You think I’m saying these things to manipulate you?”

  “I know you can speak with charming words when you want something badly enough.”

  She might have slapped him without causing as much harm as her words did. “You think I’m speaking of love to change your mind?”

  “Even if you aren’t, now is not the time. I suggest you give up trying to convince me to do your bidding and get to work.” She pressed her long, slim fingers against his chest and gave him a gentle shove. He didn’t leave, but watched her in silence as she finished with her utensils and began on her pistol. Tiny black strips of cloth soon littered her workspace, and the pleasant scent of gun oil reached him.

  His declaration of love had obviously affected her, but she’d held fast. Nothing would stop this woman from following her mission. For a moment he was struck speechless by the thought that it was possible, if she got her way, that he would never see her again. She could die.

  Chapter Nine

  “You’re following creeks,” he said from behind her, still hovering. Would she never get him to leave?

  “That’s right.”

  “This country is a maze. What if you follow the wrong creek?”

  “I have a map.” How many questions could this man ask? Was this just another ruse to stop her from going?

  “Is that what you hid from me earlier?”

  “I didn’t exactly hide it. I only wanted to place it out of the way of your attention.”

  “Even if Thames doesn’t recognize you, he would recognize Sadie when he sees her. A man’ll remember horseflesh.”

  She braced herself. He was approaching a delicate subject. “Sadie was Matthew’s horse.”

  Joseph was silent for a moment.

  She glanced at him over her shoulder and caught him glaring.

  “I beg you
r pardon, Victoria, but why would you ride a horse this killer would be sure to recognize?”

  She turned, put her things away and strolled from him, knowing he would follow. The crux of the matter would disturb him. That was why she’d hoped to avoid this conversation. More secrets. “My own horse was lame when I left for this trip. Sadie is the best horse we ever had. She’s a part of Matthew I can keep with me.”

  As expected, Joseph caught up and stepped in front of her. “I doubt she’s as good as my Boaz.”

  “This isn’t a competition.”

  “My gelding’s as good as horses get,” he said. “You don’t want to risk your husband’s murderer recognizing you before you see him.”

  “That won’t happen.” She relaxed a little. Was she hearing him right? “So you’re agreeing that I should go to Jolly Mill now?”

  “No. I’m saying you should get rid of the mare no matter what else you do. I don’t care how good she is. Trade with me. You won’t be sorry, and I’ll rest easier.”

  Joseph’s concern softened her, but she had a good reason to keep Sadie, and it wasn’t a reason she wanted to discuss. “I’m afraid I must decline.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m accustomed to her. I don’t want to set off with a strange animal.”

  “I can guarantee you that Boaz is more experienced with that unforgiving forest than Sadie. He has saved me from a fall into a wolf trap and an attack from a pack of wolves.”

  Victoria crossed her arms and stared down at the ground beneath her feet.

  “I see,” Joseph drawled. “It was no accident that you’re riding Sadie on this trip.”

  He knew. “I told you why.”

  He placed a hand on her arm. “You’re a smart lady. You’d have thought this through. If you wanted to keep a low profile, you’d have sold Sadie and bought a horse this silver-braided killer wouldn’t recognize. You want this man to notice you. You want him to come after you, give you a reason to avenge Matthew’s murder.”

  She winced at the forthrightness of his words. He certainly made her motives sound less than ladylike. Brutal, even. “Seeking justice for the murder of my husband is not wicked.”

  “I want justice, too, Victoria. Matthew was my friend. I understand exactly what you want.”

  “He deserved better.”

  “Matthew wouldn’t want you to risk your life for anything, especially not for revenge. Do you have enough confidence in your skills that you know you’ll be able to kill him and gain retribution?”

  Her mouth opened to protest, but she closed it. For the first time, she was hearing her heart’s desire being stated as cold facts, and it made her shudder.

  “You wish to face your husband’s killer alone,” Joseph said gently. “No matter the outcome. Sort of like the kinsmen redeemer of the Bible.”

  She looked at him helplessly, unable to protest the truth. “You, Captain Rickard, are more insightful than I realized.” It seemed at the moment that he could see more deeply into her heart than she could, herself. This was not comfortable. “It would be self-defense if I were to kill him.”

  “Revenge now belongs to God.”

  “What about justice? Don’t humans still have a responsibility for that? Or has all the world gone mad with anarchy?”

  “Who’s to say you would win in a shoot-out? This man’s a killer, and you’re a doctor—”

  “You’ve seen me shoot. You’ve seen the amount of ammunition I’ve brought with me. And I’ve used that ammunition to provide plenty of meat for the kettle on our trip. You know I can protect myself if need be.”

  “As well as Matthew did the day Thames caught him unaware?”

  Victoria couldn’t tell if she was merely dismayed that Joseph could see into her heart better than she could or if she resented that his argument was beginning to make her second guess her readiness to go to Jolly Mill. “Unlike Matthew, I will be on the alert at all times.”

  “Thames must have surprised Matthew. He could just as easily surprise you.”

  “Joseph, please don’t get in my way.” She could practically see her own reflection in his deep, dark eyes.

  “May I at least see your map?” he asked. “I know the land. I can help you.”

  She hesitated, gauging the words he spoke. There could be no harm in getting his opinion. She didn’t need to agree, but he was well acquainted with this land, and she was not. “It’s beneath the medical equipment. I’ve been studying it.” She had to swallow hard to ward off the tears that seemed determined to attack her. This day was a nightmare. The image of her husband’s white face, the sound of his dying breath, was never far from her thoughts, and talking about it made everything fresh and raw.

  “You’ve been delayed all these months,” Joseph said, “and we’ve been delayed many days with illness and accidents. What would a few more days hurt, if it means you’ll be safe with us?”

  “Two or three days could mean the difference between life and death for Naaman and Josetta, maybe even the Frasiers if they’re caught with no papers of ownership. Besides that, if I don’t rush in now, I may not be able to find out what he’s up to.”

  “Which is more reason for you to trade horses with me. Lie low. I still—”

  “No.”

  “It’s unlikely he’s by hims—”

  “He’s a loner.”

  “Not in Jolly Mill. These men are joined together solidly in their selfish cause.”

  She wanted to scream. Instead, she just glared, gripping the handle of a knife and squeezing so hard her fingers whitened. “I do want the man dead.” She felt the power of her words. Her own intense hatred of Matthew’s murderer frightened her almost as badly as the man did. It was as if she’d become a stranger to herself. No girl of fourteen needed to be under her influence now.

  Joseph’s face twisted in frustration. He nodded. “Think about what I’m telling you, Victoria. I can help you if you’ll let me.”

  “I’ll accept your advice, if you wish to give it.”

  He nodded, then gestured toward Heidi Ladue. “I still won’t allow you to steal away without speaking to her. Meanwhile, let me study your map.”

  Victoria’s right hand fisted to keep from smacking him a good one. Now he was implying she was a coward? She whirled from him. Steal away, indeed! “There it is. Study it to your heart’s content, but the map, and the quest, are mine.” Unable to resist, she shot him a hard glare over her shoulder and stepped into a rabbit hole.

  Stumbling to right herself, she was sure she heard Joseph’s soft chuckle, and it made her even angrier. He’d spoken of how they’d both changed over the years, but until now she hadn’t understood the breadth of that change. She didn’t have too much pride to admit to herself that he was right. They were two different people, transformed from the young couple so in love ten years ago. So why, when they’d changed considerably, did so much seem to be the same? Why was there still this connection that she felt with him every time she came within twenty feet of him?

  Again unable to prevent herself, she shot another glance over her shoulder. He was still watching her. The bold, amused expression in his eyes brought an unwilling smile to her face.

  He raised his eyebrows and spread his hands, as if portraying himself as a man helpless against the wiles of a woman. Indeed.

  * * *

  In spite of the danger that seemed to hover ever closer, Joseph found himself watching Victoria with such helplessness he could only stare. She marched toward Heidi, shoulders stiff, head erect, and this time those strong but delicate shoulders did not slump.

  Despite the tragedies of the past days and the deadly circumstances in which she was placing herself, Joseph craved her company, and no matter what, he was glad he’d told her of his love for her. If, by chance, something went wrong, he needed to have that clarified between them.

  The woman had ignited a fire in him that he hadn’t felt in many years. And something had deepened in her. The compassion she had always s
hown toward her patients and the treatment of the slaves had developed into so much more. She was a grown woman now, no longer an impulsive girl, and despite the danger she was placing herself in, he was now in awe of who she had become.

  Startled by the direction of his thoughts, Joseph turned his attention to another fire—the one in the center of the wagon circle, where venison had been slowly roasting. McDonald had delivered the plump young buck earlier this morning from his hunting foray, skinned and dressed and ready for cooking. The venison fat continued to drip and sizzle, spreading the aroma throughout the creek-fed valley.

  Deacon Fritz, another able hunter who had joined the wagon train halfway across Missouri with his wife and crew of four boys and three girls, sauntered up to Joseph, nodding toward the roasting meat.

  “Saw some cougar and coyote tracks about a mile down the creek.” He pulled out a long-necked pipe and stuck it between his teeth.

  “How fresh?” Joseph asked.

  “Saw ’em last night. So fresh I felt my neck hairs go straight.”

  “Guess we’ll have to toss our leavings into the creek, let them wash away from camp.”

  Deacon nodded as he tamped tobacco into the pipe bowl. “That might keep the animals away.”

  “Did you see which way the tracks were headed?” The coyotes weren’t worrisome, but Joseph didn’t like the sound of the cougar. Though food was plentiful in the woods, the big cats had been known to attack humans without warning.

  Deacon picked up a few lengths of straw, stuck the ends into the fire then pressed the resulting flame to his pipe. “Headed away from us. I might keep watch tonight, just in case.”

  “That would be good. Find a couple of others to spell you so you can get some rest.”

  “Made some visits to folks along the creek this afternoon.” Deacon puffed smoke. “Mr. McDonald thought we might have a change of plans, head north?”

  “I’m still thinking on it.”

  Deacon gave Joseph a sideways glance. “The wife tells me Dr. Fenway plans to leave us and head north. Don’t suppose that’d be part of the reason for your change of plans.” He grinned, smoke billowing from his nostrils. His ruddy complexion had grown deeper in the weeks he and his family had been with the train.