Hannah Alexander Page 7

  What if he was perched in the eerie gloom even now, watching with a rifle slung over his shoulder? Worse, what if he’d brought friends?

  She shuddered and turned toward Joseph, where he was settling yet another stone into the dirt over Luella Ladue’s grave.

  Perspiration beaded his forehead. “May she rest with her son in God’s mercy.”

  A certain pique spun through Victoria, though she knew he meant the words kindly. “God’s mercy,” she muttered under her breath. “I’ve yet to see a sign of it.”

  Where was God’s mercy in Matthew’s death last year? He was a physician who could have helped so many. She glanced over her shoulder and studied the sad expressions of those who had become familiar to her these past weeks on the trail. Mr. and Mrs. Reich talked together every evening over the fire about their hopes for Kansas. Mr. and Mrs. Delaney, though dour of expression and typically silent, were quick to help out when a wagon wheel broke or an injured animal needed tending. Deacon and Ellen Fritz sometimes rode with McDonald and allowed their two half-grown boys—black-haired, the opposite images to the Johnstons in every way—to manage the oxen pulling their wagon.

  Victoria had marveled many times at her good fortune to end up in such a good company of folk, but she knew Joseph had handpicked these people. How she admired his astute perception of human character. She allowed her gaze to return to Joseph’s tall figure and wasn’t surprised to find him watching her with an expression of...what? Concern? Regret? Though perspiration beaded his brow, he was barely breathing hard when he stepped from the graves and crossed the recently worn pathway toward her.

  Her irritation at God slid back into its hiding place. This was where mercy existed, in the tender heart of a leader who buried his own, and who still honored God with his words. Yet another discrepancy stood between them. She could never be as faithful to the Lord as this man. How would she ever reconcile evidence of God’s power and goodness with such pain and heartbreak? She lacked the faith of Captain Joseph Rickard.

  “I have no doubt they’re in heaven, you know,” came Joseph’s deep and mellow voice as his shadow loomed over her. “I knew them. So did you.”

  She looked up at him and blinked when a beam of sunlight found its way past his shoulder. “My concern is for Heidi. She’s lost everything important in her life.”

  “Not everything. She hasn’t lost you.”

  “She needs a more solid family from which to choose.”

  “You’re saying she can’t carry on with your help in her family wagon?”

  Victoria flashed him a look of displeasure.

  “Forgive me,” he said. “It isn’t my intent to make you feel guilty.”

  “No? It sounds as if that’s exactly your intent.”

  “I merely felt that, since you had been traveling with the family and sharing space in their wagon, you would continue to do so. You’ve done nothing for which to feel guilty. We have five healthy people who would likely have been sharing those graves if not for your talents and knowledge.” There was admiration in his voice that spread warmth through her. Even Matthew had never shown such approval. But then, Matthew had been the teacher, she the student. He’d had twenty years on her in knowledge and experience. And age.

  And that thought reminded her to place some distance between Joseph and herself, because no matter how Audy might want to word it, Victoria knew her own hidden desires. Part of her wanted to renew a lost love, but a larger part wanted protection from further loss. Hadn’t she endured enough? How could she even contemplate more?

  “If you’ll excuse me,” she said, “I think it best I check on the drying roots and supplies.”

  “Would you like some help? I’ve learned much from you since the outbreak. It wouldn’t hurt me to know a little more about all those plants you’ve had Heidi and Mrs. Reich collecting.”

  Victoria hesitated. She would love to have him by her side as she sorted through the herbs her friends had brought her, but propriety gave her pause. “Joseph,” she said quietly, “not only are you the physical leader of this group, but you’re the spiritual leader, as well. No one comforts people better after a loss, and there are people upset by this tragedy.”

  She thought she heard him give a quiet sigh as she turned away from him. Frustration? Despite all, his desire to be near her gave her pleasure. Close on the heels of that pleasure came dismay. “Oh, Matthew,” she whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

  What kind of a wife developed a wayward heart only seven months after the loss of her husband? Though she and Matthew had endured their differences, she would never be sorry for any of it; in spite of Joseph’s words to the contrary, Matthew had left her well prepared for the future. She might not have been able to make a livable income without him by her side, but he’d left her enough wealth to keep her supported for years to come. Many physicians had to work other jobs to follow their true calling, but thanks to Matthew, she wouldn’t have to.

  She washed her hands and arms in the nearby creek and glanced over her shoulder to find Joseph commiserating with one of the patients she had just checked—the young husband who had endured a bout of the cholera and recovered. She smiled to herself. Joseph was, indeed, doing as she’d asked. It felt good to have a man trust her word, to actually listen to her. To respect her. That was something she’d missed since Matthew’s death.

  Tired from a weekend of short snatches of sleep, she settled for a moment on the front bench seat of the Ladue wagon and closed her eyes. The sunshine warmed her face as the chatter of her traveling companions burgeoned over her. The distraction of treating patients and talking with Joseph, worrying about Heidi and fretting over the future, had blocked out her ability to focus on her fellow travelers until now.

  “...poor, poor child. We must do all we can...”

  “...captain knows what he’s doing, but isn’t there a shorter route?”

  “...safer to pass through Indian Territory than risk the border attacks...”

  “...be a good match if you ask me. I don’t care if it hasn’t been a full year of mourning...”

  “Perfect couple, I agree. Every wagon train needs a doc, even if she is a woman.”

  A meadowlark’s song echoed across the valley, its beautiful minor-key notes sinking into her mind. Victoria kept her eyes closed and suppressed a sigh of satisfaction as she basked in the words of her companions. Soon she would be parting from these people. Thanks to the danger Broderick Thames posed, this wagon train could not follow the trail Matthew had marked out on his map last year, as she’d hoped. She would follow Shoal Creek to Capps Creek and reach the Village of Jollification between dawn and dusk tomorrow; speed was vital now, especially after their long delay.

  Danger in the form of a silver-braided man might be somewhere in the vicinity, and she had no way of knowing where. If she parted from the group, would she be drawing him away from them? If so, she must catch that danger and contain it if she could.

  “Victoria.” Joseph’s voice, familiar, warm and deep, reached her from behind.

  She straightened, shaking off her weariness, and leaned across the seat to see him approaching her, his black hair and beard recently trimmed, hat still in his hand in respect for the departed. “I’m sorry I didn’t consider that this must be renewing your own memories.”

  She nodded, unable to voice a reply, touched by the sympathy in his night-dark eyes and his effort to see to it that the bodies of the dead were well protected from the teeth of hungry wild animals when the wagon train went on without them. She was also touched by his efforts to speak with her again. These past days he’d gone out of his way to spend time with her, to ride beside her, and she had to admit his company meant a great deal to her.

  “I’ve made my rounds,” he said. “As you asked. Now would you like some help with your medicines?”

  She clenched her hands until her nails dug into the flesh of her palms. She must tell him the truth about her plans now. And yet, what would it matter? Whatever
she said, she had no doubt he would take the news poorly.

  She steeled herself for an argument. “No, thank you, Joseph. I do need to speak with you, however.” And yet, the words wouldn’t come.

  Chapter Six

  Joseph fingered the stiff canvas brim of his hat and waited as he studied Victoria’s expression. In the past five weeks on the trail, he’d prided himself in relearning those expressions well. Right now, however, he couldn’t even fathom what was on her mind.

  “You aren’t feeling ill?” he asked with alarm.

  “No, I’m well.”

  “Victoria, I know you’re taking these deaths awfully hard, but we’ll all get through it together.”

  “I appreciate what you’re saying, but I’ve lost patients before. I’ve lost friends. It’s just that... Oh, dear.” She folded her hands together and looked down at them as her face grew pale and then pink again. “I have patients to attend to up the creek a ways.”

  “Patients? Did I miss seeing someone come through?”

  “I wouldn’t know. I’ve been busy.”

  He shook his head, confused. “If you have patients, you must have spoken to someone.”

  “Not...recently. This was a prior appointment.”

  He couldn’t help focusing on Victoria’s clear blue eyes. The expression there disturbed him. She was avoiding his gaze, squeezing her hands into fists, and her breaths came more quickly than normal.

  “When did you plan to see them?”

  Her gaze returned to his. She didn’t reply. One look from her could send shivers down to his toes, but he didn’t let on. Something was certainly affecting her, and it was beginning to concern him a great deal.

  He glanced around as others passed them. “Something’s wrong. You haven’t seen another sign of Thames, have you?”

  “Not yet, and we’ve all been on the lookout for signs of that silver-tailed jackal.”

  Joseph let out a breath of relief. He couldn’t imagine anything worse at the moment than to have Broderick Thames call in his slaving buddies to help destroy this wagon train.

  “But there’s something else,” he said more softly, so that no one passing by them could hear.

  She looked away, sighed and reached up to rub the back of her neck, as if it had tightened from being held too stiffly. “Do you remember the Frasiers, my friends who traveled to the Village of Jollification? Matthew and I promised them last year that we would see them when we could make it through this way. I can’t let them down. I’m sorry, but I should have been clearer about this last week. We just had too many things going on, what with the flood and the cholera scare, and now this.” She gestured to the graves. “And Heidi.”

  He felt a sting of alarm. “I’m sure the Frasiers would understand that you’re in danger and can’t make it to Jolly Mill.”

  “How could I make them understand if I have no contact with them?”

  “I’d planned to take that route until you told me about Thames’s track. You know we can’t risk it now.”

  “I understand perfectly. You can’t risk the lives of all these people for a promise I made last year. I believe I can still help them, however.”

  He held his hand out. “Please walk with me. We need to talk.”

  She gave a quiet sigh, paused then pushed herself up from the lip of the wagon.

  He smiled at her. Finally, perhaps they could clear the air a bit. It had been a tense few days, and he felt sure he could show her the wisdom of staying with the wagon train.

  She turned toward the far western end of the valley, and he strolled beside her.

  “I was furious with Buster Johnston and his bullheadedness,” she said. “I still am, and it doesn’t matter how many buckets of water he and Gray haul, or how much firewood they cut, or how many hours they spend searching for tracks, I blame Buster for these lost lives. At the risk of making you think less of me, I resent that Heidi’s family is no longer here to care for her, leaving it to others to take their place.”

  Joseph waited for her to continue. Buster wasn’t the subject of her disquiet.

  “He doesn’t listen to wiser heads. It’s why he and Gray are with us in the first place, because he caused the fire in his own hometown that killed a man.”

  “I agree,” Joseph said, “but he seems to be taking things a lot more seriously this past week.”

  “If he hadn’t drawn Claude into his rebellious ways, he might be in one of those graves right now, not the Ladues.”

  “Is that what you wish?” Joseph asked.

  Her steps slowed. She took a deep breath and let it out. “I wish there was no such thing as illness. I wish there was never a need for a doctor. I don’t understand how God can allow such suffering, and I don’t understand why half-grown young men can’t listen to their elders, especially orders from their captain.”

  “You’ve apparently been brooding about many things for quite some time. But these aren’t what’s causing your concern now, are they, Victoria?”

  He noted her stiff shoulders. She was angry and frustrated, of course, but she was also braced for something. He took her elbow to guide her over a rocky hillock and felt the tension in her arm. “You haven’t traveled with a wagon train before, have you?”

  She looked up at him. “Matthew planned for us to ride west to Kansas, but we had no chance before...” She sighed. “We had no time.”

  After the hillock was far behind them he released her elbow, but he did so with reluctance; despite the rough conditions of their travel, she had the softest skin he’d ever felt. Being in her presence was like a special bit of extra grace from God, even if she was trying to divert his attention from her main concern. She was stalling, and he couldn’t help wondering what she hadn’t told him.

  “I learned early on as a wagon-train captain that we exist to give suggestions, not necessarily instructions, and definitely not orders,” he said. “We work with the scout to consider the best route forward, help with broken wheels, guide and advise. It’s a democratic form of travel.” From the corner of his eye he could tell she was studying him again.

  “That’s fine.” She slowed her steps. “I’m sorry to be going on so. I’m only trying to figure everything out.”

  “I understand.” And she was deftly keeping their main subject at bay. This was something else he remembered about her—this dogged determination to control a conversation.

  “Victoria, are you going to tell me what it is you’re so afraid to speak to me about?”

  She looked down at her clasped hands. “I don’t wish to get into an argument with you. I have a long memory, and those arguments have caused us both a lot of pain in the past.”

  “Tell me anyway,” he said, threading his words with a hint of steel.

  She didn’t move. Strands of golden hair blew across her face. She didn’t speak; she only waited.

  He could see by the surprise on her face that the hardness in his voice had startled her. He’d never spoken to her like that before, not even when they were younger and she’d refused to go with him to Georgia. They were so in love then that they barely noticed the world around them until it stopped turning.

  It wasn’t his habit to treat ladies with anything but gentleness. That was part of his heritage he refused to unlearn. He had never forgotten to show proper manners toward the milder gender. Not that he recalled Victoria being particularly mild when he’d decided to leave without her. Quite the contrary.

  Had Matthew been instrumental in quenching some of the fire from her, or had years of maturity and her hard loss done that?

  He inhaled the scent of her skin—rosemary and sage with a hint of smoke from the fire. “Please don’t ride off into that wilderness alone.”

  Victoria’s healthy pink lips parted in surprise, showing a flash of those perfect white teeth. She did meet his gaze then, and he could see the dismay. That was the subject she’d been trying to avoid. Joseph restrained a sigh and braced himself for the argument that he’d known w
ould come the moment they spoke of this.

  “I know how to make my way through a forest, Joseph.” Victoria had softened her voice. It was a cajoling sound that nearly undid him. She knew him well enough to get past his defenses.

  This time, however, he couldn’t allow her to do that. “I know you think you do, but you grew up in the eastern side of the Appalachians, not here in the west. The land where you lived was more inhabited, not so wild.”

  She gave him one of her saucy half grins, placing her fists on her hips. “Other than floods and cholera, I haven’t noticed a lot of danger across Missouri, and believe me, I can avoid the cholera, Joseph.” She said his name with more of a teasing lilt. “My travel will be like riding through a children’s park.” She spared a glance toward the giant trees that hovered over Heidi and Audy in the distance, and he followed her gaze. Those trees were like sentinels overlooking the wagon train.

  “It’s been a few years since your childhood.” He spoke the words, then grimaced. A gentleman didn’t say such things to a lady. And Dr. Victoria Fenway was every bit a lady. More than a lady, in fact. She didn’t just care for the well-being of others, she went out of her way to put her fellow travelers at ease as she tended to their wounds and illnesses.

  Though her eyes widened in surprise at his comment, she quickly hid it behind a grin. “Are you commenting on my age, Joseph? Twenty-seven isn’t ancient. It’s barely been ten years since our last...conflict.” Her grin faltered. Her eyes lost a little of their luster, and it pricked at him that he was the cause of that remembered pain. His overly developed regard for his father’s wrong-headed rules had caused him to lose her. She still obviously felt that loss as well, though she couldn’t feel it more than he did.

  “This land is dangerous for a lady,” Joseph said.

  “I daresay I could match you in a shooting contest. And few would call a female doctor a lady.”

  “I would definitely be one of the few, and I wouldn’t argue with your shooting skills.” He nodded toward her waistline. He wasn’t always a Southern gentleman. “I’ve noticed you never go anywhere without your weapon.”