DISCLAIMER: This story and all its characters belong to me. Any similarities to anyone living or dead are purely coincidental. Most of the places in this story actually exist or existed, though.
AUTHOR NOTES: English is not my native language, so please be patient with me.
This story is set on the Oregon Trail in 1851. Although I did a LOT of research and tried to make things as realistic as possible, there might be some mistakes. Please let me know if you spot any.
SUMMARY: “Luke” Hamilton has always been sure that she’d never marry. She accepted that she would spend her life alone when she chose to live her life disguised as a man.
After working in a brothel for three years, Nora Macauley has lost all illusions about love. She no longer hopes for a man who will sweep her off her feet and take her away to begin a new, respectable life.
But now they find themselves married and on the way to Oregon in a covered wagon, with two thousand miles ahead of them.
RATING: NC-17. This story depicts a loving/sexual relationship between two consenting adult women.
THANKS: A very big thank
you goes to my beta reader Pam for her corrections and valuable input. I
couldn't have done this without you!
FEEDBACK: Feedback, comments and
constructive criticism are welcome at jae_s1978@yahoo.de
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
Backwards to Oregon
By Jae
Part 1
Rough laughter and the thumping of booted feet across the boardwalk made Tess Swenson look up.
“Soldiers,” Fleur groaned next to her, before the first of them had even entered. In the two years that the young woman had worked for Tess, she had learned a lot about men – even identifying their profession by their footfalls alone.
“Don’t sound so snide, girl,” Tess chided gently. “Last time, they left you a nice tip.”
“Last time, they also left me a nice black eye.”
Tess nodded. She knew that after long months of living in the shabby barracks of a secluded fort, with no break from their monotonous duties and the bad food, soldiers tended to go a little wild on payday. She resolved to keep an eye on them.
The door swung open. Loud voices and fresh air drifted into the brothel’s parlor, and for a moment, the smoke dispersed.
Tess stepped forward to extend a flirtatious greeting, but her well-practiced business-smile gave way to a delighted laugh when she saw the last man being dragged in by his comrades. “Well, well, well, if this isn’t Lieutenant Luke Hamilton, visiting a house of ill repute! Finally gotten lonely, soldier?”
Her visitor took off a wide-brimmed hat and smiled down at Tess. “I’m no longer a soldier.”
“What?” For the first time, Tess noticed that Luke’s navy-blue uniform had been replaced by worn civilian clothes.
“I’ve resigned my commission,” Luke explained. “My soldiering days are over.”
Tess blinked. She couldn’t imagine Luke Hamilton being anything but a soldier. Luke had already been a dragoon when they first met five years ago.
* * *
Inwardly cursing the smoke-filled, dimly lit room and the tinny clanking of the piano, Tess had strained to keep a watchful eye and ear on her girls and their customers lounging in secluded alcoves, on sofas or leaning against the long mahogany bar.
Tess and her girls had grown used to quieter, less chaotic evenings after the trappers and emigrants heading west had left Independence, but tonight the brothel was packed with soldiers.
From her place near the till at the foot of the stairs, she scanned each customer who headed up the stairs for signs of trouble. She could feel the tension in the air. Tonight, the men were laughing louder, drinking harder and fighting more eagerly for the attention of the girls.
Tomorrow they would march south, with orders to conquer New Mexico. The fear generated by the upcoming war was a powerful stimulant for Tess’ business, but it also made their work more dangerous. Every soldier wanted to spend one last night with a woman before he went off to war and maybe was killed. They needed to show themselves and each other that they were alive, wild and fearless.
Some of them were not much more than boys. Tess shook her head as she watched a young soldier being pushed and pulled into the parlor by his laughing comrades. The other men were eager to enter the brothel, but he dragged his feet and stalled by stopping at the door to knock the mud from his boots. Tess watched as he waved his friends away and settled down at a corner table, his back against the wall.
One of her girls wandered over, a bottle of whiskey in one hand, while the other came to rest seductively along the young soldier’s shoulder. He looked up at her without a smile and tipped his chair back against the wall, casually breaking the physical contact. He accepted a shot of whiskey, but shook his head at anything else the girl offered.
Tess had seen the skittish behavior of first-time visitors before, but something about the young man told her that this was something different. She stepped away from the till to study him.
Neither his stature, nor his worn uniform or scuffed boots set him apart from his comrades. He wasn’t unusually tall and compared to the burly built of some of his friends, his lean frame didn’t seem very impressive, but there was something about him that made her take notice nonetheless.
It wasn’t the insignia on the sleeve of his navy-blue uniform coat, announcing his position as a Sergeant – though she couldn’t imagine how a man that young could have already earned that rank. What set the young man apart was the way he carried himself. He moved with the smooth stride of a cat, a combination of strength and unconscious grace where she had expected the gangly awkwardness of someone barely out of puberty.
He leaned back in his chair, slowly nursing his whiskey, and watched the other men with a stoic expression. Everything about him showed calm confidence – everything but the way he worried his forage cap between his long, slender fingers.
Angry voices from the bar made Tess turn around. A red-faced customer had grabbed one of her girls by the throat and was shaking her. “Hey!” Tess instantly forgot the young soldier as she rushed across the room.
Pain exploded in her face as the angry man backhanded her. She crashed into the bar and for a moment, she couldn’t breathe. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Charlie, her barkeeper, reach for the revolver he kept behind the bar, but before the situation could escalate further, another set of hands appeared in Tess’ line of sight. They were long and slender, not the beefy, broad hands of someone big enough to interfere without endangering himself. They grabbed the soldier, whirling him around and forcing him away from Tess and the gasping girl.
With a roar, the angry, drunken soldier swung up his own fists. Only when a wild jab threw back his head did Tess realize that her savior was none other than the young man from the corner table. He was half a head shorter and weighted considerably less than his drunken foe, but he stepped forward and threw a punch nonetheless. The bigger man lowered his head, charging him like a furious bull.
One of her girls cried out, and a few of the men shouted encouragements at the fighters, hastily betting money on how long the smaller man would last under the iron fists of his opponent.
Tess reached for the small revolver hidden in one of her garters. She swung up the weapon, but the big soldier was already standing still, looking down the barrel of the boy’s gun. “You better sober up real quick, Corporal, before I spare the Mexicans the work and shoot you right here, right now!” the young man’s voice was low and quiet, but the cool gray eyes left no doubts about his determination.
The Corporal brought up a trembling hand, wiping a bit of blood from his lip without looking away from the boy. The silent battle of wills went on for a few seconds before he lowered his gaze and let out a breath. “All right, all right, I’m sober.”
The boy put away his gun, but his sharp gaze remained fixed on his opponent. “I think you owe these ladies an apology, Corporal.”
“What?!” The soldier stared at him in disbelief. “But that ain’t no la-”
Gray eyes narrowed. “Was that a ‘Yes, Sir’?” He held a higher rank than the drunken soldier and he was not afraid to enforce it.
Tess could hear the big man’s teeth grinding against each other. “Yes, Sir,” he spat out.
The boy gestured towards Tess, forcing the man to turn around and face her. “I…apologize.”
“An apology won’t pay for the glasses you broke when you threw me against the bar,” Tess said, the small revolver still in her hand. As the brothel’s Madam, she had learned to be a charming hostess, a motherly figure for her girls and most of all a tough businesswoman.
“Pay her,” the Sergeant ordered, his gray eyes like steel.
Grumbling, the soldier threw some coins on the bar and stormed away.
The Sergeant watched him leave, then laid another coin on the bar and turned to follow him.
“Wait!” Tess hurried after him.
The young man reluctantly turned back around. His gaze flickered to the door as if he wanted to disappear through it as quickly as possible. “Yes, Ma’am?”
“Your nose.” Tess pointed. “It’s bleeding. Come with me and let me tend it.” She extended her hand.
The young Sergeant didn’t take it. “That’s not necessary, Ma’am. It’ll stop soon enough.”
“It’ll stop sooner if I tend it. I have a lot of experience with patching up victims of a brawl.” Tess was determined to match his stubbornness.
“Come on, Luke!” one of the soldiers who had come with the young man shouted. “No man in his right mind says no when Miss Tess invites him up to her room! Be a man and go with her!”
The corner of the boy’s mouth twitched, hinting at an ironic almost-smile; the first Tess had seen from him. Before he could refuse once more, Tess took his hand and led him upstairs, both of them ignoring the cheers from the rest of his company.
“Sit down.” Tess patted the bed that took up most of her room. “It doesn’t bite – and neither do I,” she added when she saw the young man’s panicked gaze.
He cautiously sank down on the very edge of the bed, holding onto his forage cap with both hands. He looked like a schoolboy on a detention bench. It was hard to believe that this was the fearless fighter who had stood toe to toe with a much bigger man just minutes ago.
Tess turned to her crystal decanter and poured him a shot of whiskey. “It’s on the house,” she said when he was reluctant to take it.
He took the glass from her, but held it without drinking.
“Drink up,” Tess ordered, searching for a clean cloth. “This ain’t gonna be pleasant.” The cloth in hand, she stepped between his legs and bent over to take a closer look at his nose. She dabbed at it with the cloth, wiping away the blood, and laid a gentle hand on his neck to guide his head a little to one side. “I think it’s broken.”
She felt him tremble against her and for a second, she attributed it to the pain the broken nose must have been causing him, but then she saw the look in the young man’s eyes. Tess smiled. She had been in this job long enough to know that it was not the pain, but her physical closeness, her half-bared bosom pressing against his shoulder, that darkened the gray eyes.
She slid the hand resting on his neck around, touching his still smooth cheek. “How old are you, soldier?”
The boy turned his face away from her touch and scrambled back until the headrest stopped him. “Old enough to go to war.”
Tess looked down at him. He was very young, but there was a weary look in his gray eyes that told her he had seen and done more things in his life than most men twice his age. This was not a naïve boy, but still there was something about him that made her believe he had never been with a woman.
This is gonna be a nice change, Tess told herself. He was so different from most of their other customers – polite, clean, and sober. “Old enough for this?” She stepped close again, pressed him down on the bed and lowered her lips to his.
Slender, but strong hands closing around her wrists stopped her. “No.”
“No?” Tess couldn’t even remember the last time she had heard that word from a man. “If you’re worried about money…I don’t intend to take any from you. This is my way of saying thank you for your help with that drunk bastard.”
The boy still held her roaming hands captive. “No, no…I… This is not what you think… I… I’m…”
Tess smiled down at him. “Relax, I know what you are.” It wasn’t difficult to guess the boy was a virgin.
Gray eyes widened. “You…you know? How…?”
“I have enough experience with men to know these things.”
The boy stared at her in amazement. “And you invited me up to your room anyway?”
“Sure.” Tess couldn’t see what was so surprising about that. Every whore knew that virginal customers were easily earned money.
“And you tried to kiss me, even though you knew what I am?” The boy still couldn’t get over it.
Tess studied him, puzzled. Does he really think he’s the first virgin in my bed? A whore doesn’t go to bed with the men who can give her the most pleasure, but the ones with the most money. “And I would kiss you, if you let go of my hands.”
The grip around her wrists wavered for a moment. “You…you like…women?”
“What?!”
For a second, they stared at each other, then the boy – the girl, Tess suddenly realized – jumped up with a curse and fled to the door. “Wait!” Tess hurried after her mysterious visitor and laid a hand against the door to prevent it from opening. “Wait a minute! What’s going on here? Who are you?”
The girl slowly turned back around. She looked at Tess without answering. The muscles in her jaw clenched.
Tess took a step closer. She studied the slender, yet muscular body and the boyishly handsome face. The girl was taller than most of the women Tess knew. Even now that she knew, she could detect no sign of feminine curves. “Who are you?” she repeated.
“Luke Hamilton.” Her guest automatically extended his – her, Tess corrected – hand.
Tess took her hand, noticing the strong grip of the calloused fingers. Everything she saw, heard and felt made her believe she was dealing with a young man. She couldn’t stop staring at her guest. “That’s not the name your parents gave you, though, is it?”
“No,” the girl answered cautiously, “it’s not.”
For a second, Tess wanted to ask her real name, but then thought better of it. The girl had no reason to trust her with her biggest secret and she already looked as if she wanted to bolt. “Come back and sit.” Tess patted the bed.
The girl remained right next to the door. “I need to go.”
“Your friends in the parlor wouldn’t be very impressed if your visit up here only lasted for three minutes,” Tess said with a smile. “So come sit and tell me how a girl ended up becoming a Dragoon Sergeant.”
The girl hesitated. “That’s a long story. And I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t refer to me as a girl. The life I live is that of a man.”
Tess leaned back on the bed with a seductive grin. “Every aspect of it?”
A hint of a blush spread across the tan face. “Almost.”
“So you don’t want me to thank you, huh?” Tess nodded down to her low-cut bodice.
Luke Hamilton blinked. “I’m… You know what I am. It’s not possible to… Is it?”
“Oh, it’s very possible, I assure you, sweetheart.” Tess stood and circled her visitor with seductive sways of her hips. “Do you want me to demonstrate?”
She had expected another blush, but this time, the young woman looked her straight in the eye. “I don’t approve of prostitution. No man – or woman – should take advantage of women who have been forced to sell their bodies to survive.”
Tess stared into the gray eyes. There was no judgment, no contempt, only a simple honesty. Tess was charmed. “You don’t believe in prostitution… Do you believe in friendship?”
Dark lashes blinked rapidly. Obviously, it was the last thing Luke Hamilton had expected from her.
“Do you?” Tess prompted when Luke remained silent.
“I...I don’t know. I’ve never had a friend.”
“Well, if you want to, you’ve got one now.” Tess paused. “Unless you don’t want to be seen in the company of a lady of negotiable affections.”
A small grin flitted across the reserved face. “I guess to be seen with you could only help my reputation.”
With a laugh, Tess lifted up on her tiptoes and kissed the smooth cheek. “All right…friend.”
* * *
Tess studied the woman before her. Luke Hamilton was no longer a girl. She had returned from Mexico after fighting for more than a year; wounded, commissioned on the battlefield to the rank of Lieutenant and more reserved than ever. The war had changed her. Tess had fought hard to break through that shield of bitter aloofness, and though Luke had shared her bed in the aftermath of the war, she had never really shared her thoughts and emotions.
“You’re no longer a Dragoon?” Tess had had no idea that Luke planned to make this radical change, and for a moment, that hurt, but then she reminded herself of her role. She was Luke’s friend and occasional lover, nothing more.
Luke shook her head. “I’m gonna be my own man now.”
It was no longer strange for Tess to hear Luke refer to herself as a man. In fact, she regularly found herself using male pronouns when she thought of her friend. “So, what are you gonna do now?”
Luke looked down, studying the tips of her scuffed boots. “I’ll head west in a few days.”
“West? Don’t tell me you’ve contracted that gold fever?!”
Luke smiled. “Lord, no. I prefer working with horses to digging in the mud. The Donation Land Claim Act grants three hundred and twenty acres of land to every male citizen,” she grinned at her confidant, “and I hear the Oregon Territory would be a good place for a horse ranch.”
“So you’re leaving for good?” Tess bit her lip for a second. She was sad to see Luke go because she was one of very few people who had always treated her like a respectable woman.
“Yes. As soon as the grass grows long enough that the oxen won’t starve on the way. Some of the boys dragged me in here for a ‘memorable goodbye’. So…are you free tonight?” Gray eyes looked up at Tess through dark lashes and a rare shy smile appeared on Luke’s lips.
Tess rubbed her forehead with a sigh. “No, I’m not.”
“Oh. All right.” Luke was fast to hide her disappointment, as reluctant to show her feelings as ever.
Tess quickly touched her hand to establish some kind of contact and prevent her younger friend from pulling away. “I’m sorry. If I could somehow-”
“No.” Luke squeezed her hand for a second. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for. You need to make a living. I know that.”
Suppressing another sigh, Tess signaled the bartender to pour Luke a whiskey. “I have to go and play the charming hostess. I’ll see you later, all right?” Tess made her way to the back of the room, greeting customers left and right. She stopped when she felt some gold dollars being shoved into her hand. “I’m sorry, but I’m already otherwise engaged tonight. Why don’t you-”
The bearded soldier laughed. “I wasn’t asking for myself. I want the services of your best girl for my friend over there.” He pointed to the bar. “He’s leaving town in a few days, and I want him to have a memorable send-off.”
Tess looked down at the money in her hand. “Must be some friend,” she said with her well-practiced flirtatious smile.
“He saved my life… twice. So, you’ll arrange it?”
Tess gave a nod. “Just point him out and I’ll see to it.”
The soldier turned and indicated – Luke Hamilton.
Great! Tess mentally rolled her eyes. How do I get you out of this one, my friend? She was the only one Luke had ever trusted with her body and her secret, so she couldn’t very well send her off with one of her girls. But she also couldn’t ignore the bearded soldier’s request. Every unmarried man in town would jump at the chance to spend a few hours with a working girl for free, especially if it would be months until he saw another available woman. Refusing the generous offer would make her friends suspicious and could blow Luke’s cover. And Tess wanted to give her a memorable send-off, too.
Deeply in thought, she looked up – and right into the forest green eyes of a passing by girl. That’s it! “Fleur!” she called with an impish grin.
Out of the twelve girls working for her, Fleur was the one Tess trusted the most. At twenty, Fleur was only ten years younger than Tess, but she was almost like a daughter nonetheless. With her flaming red hair and her pretty, innocent face, she was very popular with the men and brought in a lot of money for the establishment, but Tess secretly hoped that she’d one day leave to begin a new life. She genuinely liked the young woman.
Fleur casually disengaged herself from the man she had been plying with expensive drinks and stopped in front of Tess. “Yes?”
“Are you about to head upstairs?”
Fleur looked back at her customer, who had already found another girl. “Doesn’t look like it.”
Tess hesitated for another moment, gazing deeply into the green eyes. She knew that Fleur was very discrete. She never talked about what she did upstairs or the secrets her customers might have let slip in the heat of passion. She was kind enough not to laugh at Luke and experienced enough to not run from the room screaming. And Luke would surely appreciate her soft beauty and feminine curves. In some respects, her friend was not so different from the man she pretended to be. “I have a customer I want you to take care of. The fee is already covered.”
Fleur knew her well enough to realize she wasn’t all business. “Are you sure you don’t want to entertain him yourself?”
“I would, but I have to entertain a town official tonight.” Tess exchanged a meaningful glance with the redhead. They both knew that the local authorities were willing to turn their heads in exchange for a few favors. For the most part, Tess as the Madam of the brothel could pick her customers and saw only a few special guests, but she had no choice tonight. She had to ensure that town officials continued to turn a blind eye to her establishment.
“And the one you want me to take care of? Is he a regular?” Fleur asked.
Tess nodded. “He’s…I guess you could say he’s a friend of mine.”
Fleur turned to look in the same direction Tess did. “The dark-haired, slender one sitting alone at the bar? He doesn’t look like one of your special customers.”
A smile played around Tess’ lips. “Oh, he is special, trust me.” She turned serious eyes on Fleur. “You still remember the first rule I taught you?”
“Don’t steal your silverware?” Fleur said with the mischievous grin she still hadn’t lost completely after two years.
“Discretion,” Tess emphasized, suppressing a smile of her own.
A russet eyebrow rose, but Fleur didn’t ask what it was about this customer that required her absolute discretion. After a few seconds, she couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Is there anything I should be careful about…?” A glimmer of fearful caution shone in the green eyes.
“No!” Tess shook her head. “You’ve got nothing to fear from him. He’s a real…gentleman.”
“All right.” Tess could see that Fleur didn’t believe her for a second, but she turned and made her way towards the bar nonetheless.
“I hope I did the right thing,” Tess whispered as she watched her go.
* * *
Nora eyed her potential customer warily as she walked towards him. He had nothing in common with the men that usually made arrangements for Tess’ time. The battered, wide-brimmed hat under his arm and the worn flannel shirt made it unlikely that he had a lot of money to spend on whiskey and women. His blue pants with the yellow stripe running down the leg seam had clearly been part of a uniform – he was a simple ex-soldier, not one of the rich, powerful men that shared Tess’ bed from time to time.
Even his posture was different. She could see the tension in his lean frame from across the room. While all around him the other men were laughing, chucking down whiskey and trying to get their hands on the girls, he sat quietly sipping his drink. He hadn’t relaxed, but was still constantly on his guard.
Nora grimaced. She didn’t like that type of customer – you could never tell what might happen if they finally loosened the tight control they held themselves under.
She straightened her shoulders and sent a glance downward to ensure that her bodice still showed enough to arouse interest, but not enough to satisfy it. With a deep breath, she stopped next to him, but didn’t attempt to touch him in any way. The remoteness emanating from him discouraged any attempts at familiarity. “Hello,” she gave her voice a seductive timbre.
The man set his glass down and turned around. He was not at all what Nora had expected. She automatically compared him to most of her usual customers with their shaggy hair, matted beards, tobacco-stained teeth and filthy clothes, reeking of stale drink, smoke and sweat. This man kept his dark hair short, the ends just brushing against the collar of his faded shirt. His clothes were a bit worn, but clean, and his pants still maintained a razor-sharp military crease. There was no hint of beard stubble on the tan face – either he had shaved immaculately just before his brothel visit or he was even younger than he appeared to be.
Nora took a half-step towards him, pleasantly surprised to smell only leather, soap and a hint of horse on him. Maybe this customer really was the gentleman Tess had indicated him to be. It only took a second for Nora to decide that he was young and possibly inexperienced enough for her to pull off her virgin-act. Maybe that was why Tess had assigned her to this customer.
Whenever a visitor entered the brothel who seemed to be sufficiently naïve, usually a very young man or a soldier with his pay in his pocket, he was offered a night with a virgin at the double cost. Because virgins were not readily available in their line of work, almost every brothel had a girl still looking sweet and innocent enough to pull off the act – and Nora was the official “virgin” of Tess’ establishment.
“My name is Fleur,” Nora gave the name she had used for the last two years to keep her real identity secret. Nearly all girls used pseudonyms or nicknames, so there were a lot of Roses, Marys and Daisies residing in houses of ill repute.
The customer said nothing. Not that Nora had expected or wanted him to tell her his name. Even if he had, she wouldn’t remember it in a few days. He was just one of many customers.
“You look a little lonely sitting here all on your own.” Nora used her big green eyes for good measure, playing the friendly, naïve young girl she had once been. “I thought maybe I could keep you company for a while.”
The young man looked down at her without answering. The gaze of his gray eyes made Nora shudder, even though it was neither cruel nor leering. There was something about him that irritated her finely honed instincts, but she ignored it. She couldn’t afford not to work tonight. She smiled sweetly up at him and tucked her hand into the bend of his arm as if she was a lady and he the beau courting her.
The muscles under her fingers clenched. “I don’t have the money for…this.”
“Hush, don’t worry about that; it’s already taken care of.” Nora stroked the arm her fingers rested on. “Shall we retreat to my room, where it’s a little quieter, and…talk for a bit?”
The dark head shook. “No, thank you, I just want to finish my drink and then I’ll be on my way.”
Nora worked hard not to stare in disbelief. No man she knew of had ever entered a brothel only to enjoy a quiet drink and she didn’t believe that he had either. “Then why not enjoy the whiskey I have upstairs? It’s a much better brand than this one.”
“No, thank you,” the young man once again insisted. “I’m tired and I should…”
“Tired?” Nora smiled and tugged on his arm, trying to get him to move closer to the staircase. “It just so happens that I have a nice, soft bed upstairs.” Nothing about that bed was nice. Not for Nora. She hated it and what she had to do in it night after night, but she had no particular skills, no family and no husband who cared for her, so it was that or starving. And she would rather head upstairs with this strange, but polite young man than with one of the wild, half-drunk men leering at her from across the room.
“Hey, Lieutenant, you still down here?” A bearded soldier leaned against the bar next to Nora and her potential customer. He eyed Nora. “What’s the matter; the girl not to your liking?”
Nora pressed her lips together, trying not to show the humiliation she felt being talked about like a piece of cattle he wanted to buy. Silently she wondered if that was the reason for the young man’s refusal to head upstairs with her. Maybe he would prefer one of the other girls?
But he slowly shook his head. “No. I like her just fine. But-”
“Then go on and enjoy yourself!” The bearded soldier laughed and clapped the younger man roughly on the shoulder. “You don’t want to insult me by refusing my goodbye-gift, do you?”
“No,” it sounded almost like a sigh of resignation.
Nora used the opportunity to gently tug him towards the stairs and led him to her room on the upper floor. She opened the door and watched him take in the gaudy rug, the paintings of nude women on the wall and the big brass bed in the middle of the room. She closed the door behind them and listened to the muted sounds of the piano and coarse laughter from downstairs for a second before she took a deep breath and turned towards him.
“If you want, I could bring up hot water and you could take a bath,” Nora offered. Maybe it was the best strategy to get the probably inexperienced young man to undress first.
He fixed his steel-gray gaze on her for a second. “That’s not necessary. I’m already clean.”
Nora bowed her head in a gesture of deference. She had to take care not to arouse his anger in any way. “Yes, of course, I didn’t mean to suggest otherwise, I just wanted-”
“It’s all right,” he quickly soothed her.
Encouraged by his kindness, Nora stepped closer. Maybe she had to give up the virgin act and take the first step. “Do you want to undress me?”
“No!”
All right. This is not going well. Not about to give up, Nora started to undress herself.
He grabbed her hand that was just about to loosen the thin straps holding up her tight silk dress. “Don’t!”
Nora’s confusion grew. What was he expecting of her? Whatever she did, it didn’t seem to be what he wanted her to do. No other customer had found her to be anything but beautiful, and most couldn’t get her naked fast enough. What was it that made her so unattractive to him?
Maybe he’s just a bit shy, she told herself. She leaned forward, encouraging him to get a good look at her cleavage, but the gaze of the gray eyes remained stubbornly fixed on her face. She threw back her head, baring the soft, fair skin of her throat and causing her red hair to tumble over her bare shoulders. The movement automatically attracted his attention and Nora could feel his gaze following the path of the freckles that dusted her skin from her shoulders to where they disappeared into the low-cut bodice of her dress. There, his gaze quickly snapped back to rest again on her face, but the fleeting glance had been enough to assure Nora of his interest that lurked just under the surface. “You don’t need to be afraid. I’m not; not with you. I know you’ll be gentle. I’m really glad that my first time-”
“You don’t have to do this,” he interrupted. Before Nora could think of something to say, he continued, “You don’t have to pretend with me. I know this business, so don’t bother.”
Nora eyed him with new interest. So, he’s not as naïve and innocent as I thought, huh? She cocked her head and gave him a smile that was flirtatious and at the same time conveyed the innocent curiosity of the virgin she pretended to be. “So, you…you’ve been with other women?”
The young man didn’t answer, he just looked at her, his gray eyes cold and sharp like steel. “I know that you’re probably not a virgin.”
Nora struggled to maintain her smile. Even the men who saw through her virgin act usually played along to fulfil a fantasy of theirs. Not this man.
“And I know that you don’t desire me,” he continued. “You don’t want to go to bed with me.”
No. Not naïve at all. Nora bit her lip. Want? She suppressed a bitter laugh. I have to. She had to earn money to survive, and this man was making it impossible. A look into his eyes made her give up all pretenses. “I need to make a living and you look like a decent enough man, so…” She gestured to the bed.
He turned away from her and she heard his clothes rustle.
With grim satisfaction, Nora began to loosen her bodice. She didn’t want to waste any more time now that he was finally undressing.
But when he turned back around, he hadn’t removed a single garment. He wordlessly handed her ten dollars.
Nora made no move to accept the money. “What’s this?”
“You said you needed to earn money, so…” He again extended his hand with the money.
“No.” Nora stepped aside. “I don’t need your pity. I’ll take the money I’ll earn for my services, but not a cent more.” She knew that pride was something a prostitute couldn’t afford, but she was too angry, afraid, and confused to think clearly. It worried her to have this young man refuse her advances and appear entirely unimpressed by her attempts at seduction. He had obviously shared Tess’ bed more than once, so it was not a dislike for prostitutes in general – he just didn’t like her. Her very life depended on her ability to enchant men, and she was beginning to doubt herself.
“All right.” He pocketed his money and strode to the door.
The printed sign that hung in the parlor flashed before Nora’s inner eye: Satisfaction guaranteed or money refunded. If he left now, there would be no money for her, maybe none at all tonight, because judging from the sounds filtering in through the thin walls most of the other customers had already headed upstairs with other girls. “Please…” she didn’t know what else to say.
He looked back at her over his shoulder and for a second, she saw something in his gray eyes that looked almost like regret. Then he shoved his hat onto his head and with another step he was gone. The door closing behind him echoed loudly in Nora’s ears.
* * *
Luke urged her Appaloosa mare to a faster gait, eager to reach the relative safety and tranquility of the livery stable where she had boarded her horse. Independence’s main street was pure chaos.
All around her, men were bartering at the top of their lungs for their provisions, while others were shouting and cursing at their ox or mule teams that they couldn’t yet handle. Mules brayed in annoyance as two wagons bumped into each other. Even louder was the incessant clanging and hammering coming from various blacksmith’s shops, where the prospective emigrants had their covered wagons repaired and their horses and oxen shod.
Having been stationed in the nearby Fort Leavenworth, Luke had visited Independence before and could hardly believe that this was the same sleepy town she had seen on her last payday a few weeks ago. Every spring, Independence woke from its sleep. Emigrants began to arrive by steamboats or in covered wagons and by the end of April, thousands of people were camped in and around Independence, giving it almost the look of a besieged town. Tents and hastily-erected shacks dotted the hills between the town and the muddy banks of the Missouri River, three miles to the north. Saloons, gambling dens and red-curtained whorehouses seemed to pop up overnight.
By early May the prairie grass was finally long enough to provide enough feed for the livestock, and emigrants left Independence in a haste, trying to complete the two thousand mile journey before snow began to fall on the high mountain passes. Then Independence would once again become the sleepy town, but this time, Luke would not be there to witness it.
The day after tomorrow, she would join a wagon train heading west and begin a new life. The shabby barracks of various forts had been the only home she had ever known, but now she longed for a place of her own, where she had to answer to no one but herself. You still have more than two thousand miles to go, she told herself, stopping the daydreams about the horse farm she hoped to build in Oregon.
Living in close quarters with the other members of the wagon train for six months worried her a bit. There was almost no privacy on the trail, so she had to be constantly on her guard. She was convinced that no one would suspect her true identity from observing the way she moved or spoke. Luke had lived as a man for so long that it wasn’t an act any longer. In her own mind, she was former Lieutenant Luke Hamilton, not a woman. But actions and thoughts were one thing, the reality of her body was another. Bathing or relieving herself would be a real problem; the good camp sites were usually crowded and she would be in constant danger of being discovered.
Luke shoved her worries back in the recesses of her mind as she neared the livery stable. In front of the building, flames danced on the blacksmith’s forge as he worked the bellows. Luke dismounted and led her horse towards the stable doors.
The stable owner appeared from somewhere inside and wordlessly reached for the reins. Just then, something small shot around the corner and barreled into Luke. The spooked mare threw back her head and tried to break free of the stable owner’s grip on the reins, almost kicking him in the process.
Automatically, Luke caught the small body that had hit her and stared down at the child holding onto her leg for balance. Had it been a horse or even an attacking dog bumping into her, Luke would have known what to do, but children were completely out of the range of her experience. She had lived a solitary life, and children had never been a part of it.
The small girl stared up at her with wide, fearful eyes, a ragged doll clutched protectively to her chest.
Before Luke could think of something to say or do, the stable owner started to yell and roughly grabbed the girl’s arm.
* * *
A knock on the door woke Nora. She groggily rolled around and blinked at the sun peeking in through the window. She had barely slept two hours and was tempted to just close her eyes again, but the knock came again. “Fleur? Fleur?!”
She promptly reacted to the name that by now was as familiar to her as the one her parents had given her and threw back the covers. Opening the door just an inch, she peeked into the hallway. “Sally!” She rushed outside when she saw the woman standing there. Sally had once been a prostitute herself, but at forty, she was long past the prime years for the trade. No other woman her age lived in the brothel, many of them killed by violence, addictions, disease or suicide long before they had earned enough money to leave. When Tess had taken over the brothel, she had offered Sally a position as a cook for the girls. Sally also looked after Amy in the mornings, while Nora slept.
“Amy ain’t with you?” Sally asked, hopefully peeking past Nora into the room.
Nora stared at her. “I thought she’s with you!” Lord, what has that daughter of mine gotten into now?!
Sally shook her head. “I was just kneadin’ the dough and when I looked again, the young’un was gone. I thought maybe she came up here for a little nap…”
“No. I haven’t seen her all morning.” With trembling hands, Nora reached for the long skirt and high-necked blouse that she wore whenever she left the brothel. Out on the streets, she had to dress more respectably or she risked being run out by the proper ladies of the neighborhood.
Sally watched her dress – both of them had long since lost any shyness concerning their bodies – and then followed her down to the kitchen. “I already checked the pantry,” she protested when Nora opened a door. “The li’l one ain’t in there.”
Nora didn’t turn around. “I’m not checking for Amy; I’m checking the apples.”
Sally counted with her, then nodded. “I think one’s gone.”
Without losing another second, Nora gathered her skirts and ran. There was no doubt in her mind where Amy had gone. The missing apple told her that the girl intended to visit the horses of the nearby livery stable. Amy loved horses and they’d often been there together, but it wasn’t safe for the girl to visit alone. Not only did Nora fear that one of the big horses might hurt the child, but there was also the rough stable owner. He hated children and had a reputation for scaring or even beating them if they ventured too close to one of his horses. Just last week, he had thrown a neighborhood boy into the manure pit, and Nora didn’t even want to imagine what he might do if he discovered the bastard-child of a prostitute alone on his premises.
She weaved between riders and wagons on the busy main-street, almost falling when her heel caught on her skirt, the length of which she was unaccustomed. She stumbled, but never slowed down. Gasping for breath, she rounded the last corner, just in time to see her daughter colliding with a man who was standing next to the stable owner. Nora squeezed her eyes shut for a second when she recognized him as the aloof stranger who had refused her services two nights ago. She clenched her hands to fists, sure that the unapproachable man would react none too kindly to being run over by a child.
When she reopened her eyes, she saw him lift his hand.
“No!” Nora rushed forward, determined to protect her child even if it meant being hit herself.
* * *
Luke shook herself out of her immovability when the girl cried out under the stable owner’s cruel grip. She quickly lifted her hand and gripped his wrist, forcing him to let go of the girl. The child ran away, but her sobs echoed across the yard.
Luke again stopped the cursing man as he turned to follow the girl. “My horse could use a good rub-down.” She handed him a quarter dollar and held his gaze until she was sure that his greed exceeded his rage. When he led the Appaloosa away, Luke turned around and looked for the girl.
The child stood with her face buried in the skirt of a woman, still sobbing.
After hesitating for a second, Luke bent down and approached what she guessed to be mother and daughter. “Ma’am,” she politely tipped the brim of her hat, “I think your daughter lost something.” She extended her hand with the apple she had picked up from the ground.
Her hand still resting protectively on the girl’s back, the woman looked up.
Luke blinked, for a few seconds unsure if her imagination was playing tricks on her. She had thought about the prostitute she had left standing in the middle of her room quite often. Somehow, the young woman with the weary forest green eyes had made a lasting impression. “You…you have a child?” There was no doubt that the small girl with the mop of reddish curls was the daughter of the woman called Fleur.
Clutching the child to her, Fleur turned so that she was between the girl and Luke. “Yes.” The green eyes stared at Luke with a hint of defiance.
Luke studied her closely. The young woman wore no rouge today – and she didn’t need any to make her attractive, even if there were dark circles under her eyes. Luke knew that working late at night and caring for a child during the day meant not getting enough sleep on a regular basis.
Luke glanced over her shoulder. The stable owner lurked in the doorway, piercing Fleur and her child with hostile glances. “How about I accompany you back…home?” If you can call where she lives a home…
Fleur looked down at the politely offered arm, then at the packed street and the boardwalk where a few elegant ladies had already begun to stare at them. “It would be better if you aren’t seen with me. People will talk.”
Luke laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound. “I don’t care what they say. I accompanied you to your room two days ago, so it would be pretty hypocritical if I refused to accompany you now, wouldn’t it?”
Both of them were silent for a few seconds, then Fleur slowly shook her head. “You are a strange man.”
Normally adept at hiding her emotions, Luke had to work to keep a neutral expression. A myriad of emotions shot through her: She was amused because she was an even stranger “man” than Fleur thought. She admired Fleur’s open words, liking the honesty much more than the virginal-prostitute act two nights ago. And there was also a stab of fear, because for a second, she thought that Fleur, familiar with a variety of men, might recognize her “strangeness” for what it was. But then Fleur slid her hand into the curve of her arm and the confident Luke Hamilton was back.
Very much aware of the warm fingers on her arm, she set them off towards the brothel.
* * *
“You will do as I say, bitch!”
Nora struggled to break free, but only succeeded in ripping the bodice on which her customer had an iron grip. She opened her mouth and took a deep breath.
He used the opportunity to force his tongue past her lips, stifling her cry for help.
Nora gagged. In desperation, she bit down on his tongue.
A cruel hand grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her head back, while the other fist hit her in the face almost casually. He spit in her general direction, spraying her with spittle and blood. “You redheaded little whore have quite the temper!”
Her struggles only seemed to excite him more, so Nora let her body go limp and decided to let him do whatever he wanted while she busied her mind with other things – mainly worrying about how much it might cost to replace her ruined dress and how much rouge it would take to cover the bruises on her face.
* * *
“Fleur?” Sally’s voice came through the closed door.
Nora forced her aching body up from her place on the edge of the bed and opened the door a few inches. “Hush, Sally,” she whispered, “I’ve just gotten Amy to settle down for a nap.”
Sally lowered her voice, but the teasing grin never left her lips. “My, my, girl, seems I didn’t give you enough credit for your services! You musta been spectacular! That customer of yours is back and quite adamant that he see you right now!”
Fear shot through Nora and she had to swallow against the lump in her throat before she could ask, “The one from last night?”
“Oh, no, girl, don’t worry; it’s not him,” Sally hastened to soothe her.
Nora shook her head, irritated to have her private time with her daughter interrupted. She had promised Amy that she’d be there when she woke up and she intended to keep that promise. “Whoever it is, send him away, Sally. You know that I never see customers in the middle of the day!”
The creaking of the stairs made Nora look up. The young man who had rescued Amy from the stable owner’s wrath just yesterday stood on the top step, hesitating with one hand on the banister.
Her furrowed brow stretched the skin over Nora’s bruised cheek. Her last two encounters with the strange man had left her confused, and now she couldn’t imagine what he might want from her.
“Don’t worry,” he said as if reading her thoughts, “I’m not here for… I’m not here as a customer. I only want to talk to you for a moment.”
The last two years and the beating she had suffered at the hands of a customer just yesterday had taught her to be cautious. The lack of facial hair might have made him appear young and harmless, but Nora had an inkling that appearances were deceiving in his case. His slender frame was all sinews and muscles, and there was a weary look in his eyes.
“It will only take a minute,” the man said when she hesitated. He nodded at the half-open door, but didn’t move towards her, calmly waiting for her decision. “I promise that you’ll be perfectly safe.”
Finally, Nora nodded. If he had wanted her body, he could have taken it three days ago. With one last glance to Sally to make sure that she would keep an eye and ear on her room, she opened the door to let him in.
She watched him closely as he took in the clean, lovingly decorated room with the personal nick-knacks and toys lying around.
“This is not the same room as…,” the stranger started to comment and then awkwardly cleared his throat.
It wasn’t. The other room was cold and businesslike, catering only to the desires of her customers. Here, she had tried to create a safe heaven, a home for her daughter. “You may think it’s a waste of money, but I pay Tess extra for this room. I won’t have my daughter grow up in the room where I…” Nora shook her head, interrupting herself. She positioned herself between her visitor and the sleeping child in the bed and defiantly raised her chin. “Anyway, what do you want?”
He took a step towards her, keeping his movements slow and unthreatening. His intense gaze rested on her face.
Nora studied him in the soft light of the afternoon sun. For the first time, she detected the faint lines at the corner of the gray eyes and the slight bump on the bridge of his nose, attesting to an old break. He was probably older than she had first thought.
“I’m here because I wanted to ask you…” He looked away, hesitating, then back into her face. “I wish to marry you.”
Silence.
Nora blinked once, twice. Then anger erupted. “Which of your stupid friends put you up to this?!”
“What? No, this–”
“If you think it’s funny to make fun of me like–”
“I’m not trying to make fun of you; I’m trying to marry you,” he interrupted.
Nora stared at him in disbelief. First he refused to lie with her and now he wanted to marry her? She laughed incredulously. “You want to marry me?”
“I do,” he answered as if they were already standing in front of the altar.
“This is ridiculous! I don’t even know your name!” She never asked customers for their name and never offered hers.
He smiled calmly. “I don’t know yours either – unless it’s really ‘Fleur’, which I doubt.”
This man knew more about life in a brothel than she had expected. Nora continued to stare at him, but didn’t offer her real name. She hadn’t trusted any man enough to do that for the last two years and she saw no reason to start now.
It seemed he didn’t trust easily either, because it took a minute before he offered his hand. “Luke Hamilton.”
Nora hesitated for another moment, then warily reached out her own hand. His palm was rough against her softer one and a bit clammy, indicating that he was not as calm as he appeared. “Now, if you would please explain to me what gave you the ridiculous idea to propose to me, Mister Hamilton?”
“I’m about to join a wagon train heading west. Most other settlers are married or traveling with family and so I thought it best to take a wife with me,” Luke Hamilton explained matter-of-factly.
He didn’t try to impress her with a charming answer and that secretly pleased Nora. She harbored no romantic illusions about marriage or love. She had long ago given up on waiting for the handsome hero to ride into her life and sweep her off her feet. “I understand why you’d want to take a wife, but why me? I’m not the type of woman a man would make his wife. You’re…handsome, I guess, and you have enough money to provide for a family…you would have no trouble finding a wife who’s not…soiled.” She knew very well that as much as men might enjoy her company in the bedroom, most preferred an untouched bride.
“I have no use for one of those high-society girls, who’ll do nothing but whine and complain every step of the two thousand miles to Oregon.” He looked her right in the eye. “I figure you’ve had enough hardship in your life not to give up at the first sign of trouble.”
Nora still wasn’t satisfied with the answer. “Why me?” she asked again. She gestured towards the door, indicating the hallway that lay beyond. “You could knock on any door up here on the second floor and I suspect you’d get an immediate ‘yes’ from each and every one of the girls. So, why do you knock on my door? Why burden yourself with a prostitute you don’t desire and a child that’s not your own?” Suddenly, her eyes widened. “You’re not expecting me to leave Amy behind, are you?!”
“Of course not, I could provide for your daughter and give her my name.”
Nora was understanding less and less why he’d chosen her. When they first met, he’d clearly signaled her that he didn’t want to lie with her. What else do I have to offer a man like him? I don’t even have a dowry! What is it that he wants from me? Experience had taught her that most things in life came with a price. Surely men like him didn’t go around marrying fallen women for selfless reasons. “Why me?” she repeated. “Don’t tell me that you’ve suddenly become infatuated with me.”
“No.” Hamilton didn’t pretend to have feelings for her. “This has nothing to do with love. We’ll be like…business-partners,” he suggested. “I want to start a new life in Oregon, and I think you and your daughter could use the chance to do the same.”
His words seemed honest and for the first time, Nora really allowed herself to think about it. Every spring, when the emigrants left Independence, she had secretly wished she could travel with them. Rumor had it that people were less strict in the west. In the newly developing country of homesteads, cattle ranches and mines, people didn’t ask prying questions about other people’s pasts. But most wagon trains refused to let single women join them and even if they did, she didn’t have the means to afford the journey or to survive in the west. So she stayed because she had nowhere else to go, even if she had long since grown tired of suffering daily humiliation at the hands of strangers. But is it better to be subject to the whims and desires of one man than to those of many? You could jump out of the frying pan and into the fire here, girl.
“I won’t tell you that it’ll be an easy trip, and I won’t pretend to know anything about being a good…husband…and father, but I can guarantee you that no one’s gonna hurt you again.” He took a step closer, for the first time coming into touching distance, and gently brushed her bruised cheek with a single finger.
Nora flinched. Not because his touch was hurting her – it wasn’t – but because he had seen through her carefully arranged rouge and the façade of normalcy too easily. She was so tired of constantly hiding her bruises, the occasional split lip and the reality of her job from her daughter. The older Amy got, the harder it became to hide what she was really doing for a living. If she married this man, she could be a respectable woman and her daughter would have the future she deserved.
This might be your chance, she told herself. In a few months, you probably won’t be able to work anymore – what will you do then? Tess was her friend, yes, but as the Madam of the brothel she couldn’t afford the luxury to keep on a woman who wasn’t able to work. If she couldn’t earn her keep anymore, she and her daughter would be put out on the street to fend for themselves.
“So? What do you say?” His gray eyes were almost indifferent, just waiting for her answer as if it didn’t matter to him one way or the other.
Nora knew that she didn’t really have a choice. “Are you sure that you’re not going to regret this?”
“No. Not sure at all.” The honesty of his answer surprised Nora and once again she thought what a strange man he was. “I admit it’s one of the craziest things I’ve ever done.”
*One* of the craziest…he’s done things that exceed this one in craziness?! I’d really like to know what that could have been! She felt his gaze on her, knowing that he was still waiting for her answer. “Yes,” she simply said.
A dark eyebrow rose. “Yes, this is crazy or yes, you’ll marry me?”
“Both.”
“All right.” He nodded matter-of-factly, as if he had just closed a business deal. “Can you be ready in an hour?”
Now it was Nora’s turn to lift an eyebrow. “One hour?” she echoed. How could her life change so dramatically in one short hour?
He simply shrugged. “There’s not much time. My wagon train pulls out tomorrow at seven a.m. I’m leaving then – with or without you.”
Nora gave a nod. With me, she silently decided. She was determined to take a chance and change her life.
“All right. Then you better start packing your personal belongings,” Hamilton suggested.
“Not much to pack.”
He looked about the room as if counting her few belongings, then strode to the door. “I’ll be back in an hour with the judge and the ring.”
Nora nodded numbly. The thought that she was going to be a married woman in an hour was still unreal.
At the door, he paused and turned back around to look at her with his earnest gray eyes. “So, do I get to know your name or should I just call you ‘darling’?”
Nora had to smile. At least her future husband had a sense of humor. She hesitated only for another second, then decided that she had to trust him, if only just a little bit. “Nora will be fine,” she answered. “Nora Macauley.”
“Nora Hamilton,” he corrected over his shoulder and closed the door behind him.
* * *
“Luke? Luke, is that you?”
Luke hadn’t even reached the stairs when Tess’ voice stopped her. She turned around with a sigh, not looking forward to explaining to her old friend what she was doing in the room of one of her girls in bright daylight. “Hello, Tess,” she tried for nonchalance.
Tess folded her arms across her amble chest. “You know that I normally don’t allow male visitors upstairs in the middle of the day?” There was only the hint of a smile on her lips at the mention of “male” visitors, but Tess didn’t relax her threatening posture. Outside of the bedroom, she had never treated Luke any different from male customers she had befriended – and Luke didn’t want it any other way.
“I…” Luke cleared her throat. “I know. I just wanted to speak to her for a minute, nothing else.”
Tess looked at her for another moment, then finally relaxed and grinned. “So you liked… speaking to her, huh?” She winked at Luke. “I’d hoped that I didn’t make a mistake in introducing you to Fleur.”
So Fleur…Nora didn’t tell her that I refused to share her bed. It was good to know her future wife knew the meaning of the word ‘discretion’. Just in case… “It’s not like that…”
“Of course not.” Tess was still grinning, clearly not believing a word Luke said. “You visited her room in the middle of the day because you didn’t find her appealing at all, uh huh.”
With a sigh, Luke gave up her attempts to explain. A quick glance at her battered pocket watch told her that she had to hurry if she wanted to catch the judge before he left his office for the day. Suddenly she hesitated, not sure if the judge would require a witness to the marriage ceremony. She had been expected to take part in one or two military weddings and as far as she could remember, there had always been a best man and a matron of honor. Taking a deep breath, she turned back around to face Tess. “I asked her to marry me. Would you do us the honor and stand up for us when the judge arrives?” she asked as fast as she could.
Tess stared at her. “You are going to marry?”
“Yes.” Luke could hardly believe it herself.
“A woman?” Understanding came slowly, question for question, for Tess.
Luke nodded. There had never really been another option for her.
Tess’ eyes widened and her gaze strayed to the room Luke had just left. “You want to marry Fleur?!”
Luke straightened her shoulders. “Nora, not Fleur,” she emphasized. One of the reasons why she had decided to propose to the redhead had been to give her the chance to leave behind her old pseudonym and the life that came with it.
For a moment, Tess didn’t say anything, clearly surprised that Nora had told Luke her real name. Then she sighed. “Luke, I’m not sure that this is a good idea. I know in the heat of passion, everything seems-”
“There was no heat of passion,” Luke interrupted. “I never shared a bed with her. She doesn’t even… She doesn’t know about…me.”
“Are you insane?!” Tess posed the question Luke had already asked herself a hundred times today. “You asked her to marry you even though she has no idea that you’re not-”
“Tess!” Luke looked left and right, making sure that no one had overheard their conversation.
Tess lowered her voice, but continued her argument. “…that you’re not exactly what one would expect in a husband?” The madam laughed roughly. “I’m sure Nora thinks that as a prostitute, there’s nothing left that could surprise her on her wedding night, but, Lord, the body under that male attire…” Tess shook her head. “You can’t hide that from her.”
“Yes, I can,” Luke insisted gravely. “There’s no reason why she should know. I won’t share her bed on the wedding night – or on any other night. We both agreed that this marriage is gonna be…some kind of business arrangement.”
“A business arrangement?” Tess’ brows rose. “And in what way do you profit from this arrangement?”
Luke shrugged. “Well, for one thing, it certainly won’t hurt my reputation to be married to a beautiful woman. If people think I’m married and even fathered a child, no one will suspect…my true nature.”
They stared at each other for a few moments, then Tess sighed. “I still think you should tell Nora and let her decide if she still wants to marry you.”
That was not an option in Luke’s mind. She couldn’t believe that any woman who knew who she really was would ever want to share her life with her, not even a desperate prostitute. “So, will you be the matron of honor at the wedding?” she asked instead of answering.
“I should really tell you no. You’re intending to steal my best girl.” Tess threatened her old friend with her index finger.
Best girl? Luke swallowed and tried not to think about her future wife’s talents. “You’ll be there?”
Tess sighed. “I’ll be there.”
* * *
So, this is my wedding day… It sure wasn’t what Nora had dreamed about as a girl. There was no flower-decorated church, no white wedding dress and no reception. Instead, she was wearing her best respectable dark blue dress and was standing in the middle of her packed-up belongings with an impatient judge. Only the orange blossoms in her hair gave any indication that she was the bride.
They had neither the time nor the money for anything else.
The judge opened his worn bible. “We are gathered here today in the face of this company,” he looked up and grimaced at the prostitutes who were the only guests, “to join together this man and this woman in matrimony, which is an honorable and solemn estate and should therefore not be entered into unadvisedly or lightly. If there is anyone here that has just reason why these two must not be lawfully joined together, let that person speak now or forever hold their peace.”
Tess cleared her throat, and for a moment, Nora thought she might object, but then the madam only sighed.
“Do you, Lucas Hamilton, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife; will you love, honor and cherish her, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?” The judge turned to a serious looking Luke.
Luke shuffled his newly polished boots and looked at Nora for an endless second. “I do.” His voice was a bit scratchy.
“And do you, Nora Macauley, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, will you love, honor and cherish him, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?”
Now it was Nora’s turn to answer. “I do.” No way back now. She let out a shuddering breath.
“The ring,” the judge, impatient to get back to his office, ordered.
Nora looked down at the hand that took hold of hers. She could feel the calluses against her own soft skin. Hardworking. Strong. Steadfast. As Luke slipped the simple gold band on her finger, Nora really hoped that his hands told her the truth about the man.
“By the powers given me by the state of Missouri, I hereby pronounce you husband and wife.” The judge snapped his bible closed. The sound echoed through the room, giving his words an air of finality. “You may kiss the bride.”
Nora lifted her face to his. For a second, she met his startled gaze, before he lowered his head and brushed his lips over her cheek.
He’s…strange, Nora thought once again. Where any other man would have tried to establish his dominance and claim his wife with a passionate kiss, he settled for a quick peck on the cheek.
When he stepped back, Nora tried to look into his eyes, but he quickly busied himself with signing the marriage certificate.
Tess stepped over and enclosed her in a sisterly embrace. “I suppose congratulations are in order, Mrs. Hamilton.”
For a few moments, Nora didn’t react to the unfamiliar name. Then she shook her head at herself. You’re somebody’s wife now. Mrs. Lucas Hamilton. An honorable woman…
“So, you’re leaving in the morning, huh?” Tess nodded at a trunk and Nora’s packed-up bags.
Nora shrugged. She pointed at Luke who was paying the judge. “You know how it is: Whither thou goest I will go, whither thou lodgest I will lodge.”
“I’ll miss you…but I’m glad to see you go and start a new life.”
“Me too.” Over the years, she had bickered and argued with some of the girls and had competed with them over the most generous customers, but they had become the only family she had and she would miss them.
Only when Tess’ gaze strayed to the side did Nora realize that Luke Hamilton had silently stood next to her for a while. Tess leaned forward and embraced him. “Congratulations.” She brushed her lips over his in an affectionate gesture that should have probably made Nora jealous, but mainly left her wondering how close the former soldier and the madam really were.
“Can you be ready tomorrow morning at six?” Luke turned to Nora with a businesslike demeanor.
Nora nodded. “I’ll be ready.”
“All right.” He carefully tucked the marriage license behind his belt. “I’ll see you then.”
“You won’t stay here tonight?” She had just assumed that he would want to spend their wedding night in the comfort of her room.
Luke resolutely shook his head. “I have to stay with the oxen and check the provisions.”
“Should I…come with you?”
“No.” Another shake of his head. “You stay here and enjoy your last night sleeping in a real bed. I’ll come for you tomorrow morning.” He strode away without another word to his new wife.
“Oh, young love,” Tess commented wryly.
* * *
Nora waded through the muddy main street, half carrying, half dragging her overloaded travel bag, while she desperately tried to rescue the hem of her dress from the red mud. She had traded the elegant silks and fine slippers to which she was used for a plain calico dress and sturdy boots, but she didn’t want them ruined before the journey started nonetheless.
All around them, chaos was breaking out while emigrants prepared for the departure. The Courthouse Square with the red brick courthouse building in its center was jammed with wagons. Liberty and Lexington Streets were crowded by braying mules and slow moving oxen. Men cursed and shouted as they completed the unfamiliar task of yoking their oxen, while women tried to find a place for some family heirlooms in the already overloaded wagons. Children darted in and out of the wagons, treating the dangerous journey like one big game.
Nora reached out to clutch Amy’s hand in hers, wanting to pull her away from the throng of people and nervous animals. The next step almost made her stumble over the hem of her dress as she let it go and it sagged to the ground. I need a third hand! “Mister… Luke!” she called out to her new husband who hadn’t noticed that they had fallen behind.
He stopped and simply looked at her.
“Could you…” He was already carrying her trunk, so she couldn’t very well ask him to take the heavy bag, too, so Nora nodded down at her daughter. “…could you please take her by the hand? I don’t want her to get lost in this chaos.”
He looked at her as if she had asked him to offer his hand to a rattlesnake. She saw him swallow and then, after a few seconds, he hefted the trunk on one shoulder and slowly extended his hand to the child.
“Amy…” Nora gently nudged her daughter, but the child didn’t budge. She clutched her mother’s skirts and refused to even look at Luke.
Luke shifted and nervously looked back over his shoulder to the town square, where a wagon train was beginning to form. They didn’t have the time to stop in the middle of the street.
When Nora leaned down to encourage her daughter, she heard her whisper, “Mama?”
“What is it, sweetie?” Amy was clearly scared, but Nora wasn’t sure of what.
“Who is dat man?” Her daughter peeked around Nora’s skirt, pointing to Luke with the doll in her hand.
Nora swallowed. For a moment, she didn’t know what to say. Since she had agreed to marry Luke Hamilton, she had only allowed herself to think about the positive consequences it would have on Amy’s future. Never again would Amy be ridiculed by other children for not having a father, never again would the general store’s owner refuse to sell her candy because her mother was a prostitute, and never again would people on the street call her a bastard. Nora had only thought about what Amy having a father would mean to other people, not how Amy would deal with it.
Amy had never met the man who had fathered her, nor had she had any other male role model in her life. Life in the brothel and in a neighborhood where everyone knew that her mother was a prostitute had taught Amy to be wary of men. So how could Nora explain what role Luke Hamilton would play in her life from now on? I don’t even know what role he wants to play! He agreed to take Amy with us, but that doesn’t mean that he’s willing to play daddy to a prostitute’s child.
“That is…” She looked at Luke, hoping he would finish the sentence for her. She didn’t dare to give him a title or role he might not want.
Luke stood frozen, not kneeling down to be at a level with Amy like Nora had hoped he would. He was clearly not used to dealing with children. “Luke,” he finally said.
“He’s our friend,” Nora added. “He’s going to take us for a ride in his wagon. Do you want to see it?”
Reluctantly, the girl nodded, but still didn’t step towards Luke. Clutching the hem of her skirt and Amy’s fingers in one hand and the bag in the other, Nora finally reached the wagon that would be their home for the next six months.
Well, one thing’s for sure: He won’t have to carry me over the threshold of this home, she thought as she looked the covered wagon over. A ten by four feet wagon box, covered by a still white canvas bonnet, held all their belongings. Nora leaned over the wagon’s tongue and lifted the flap to peer inside.
The wagon was packed with neatly stored boxes and bundles. Even the canvas cover was lined with storage pockets, and pots and pans hung from the wooden bows. Hens were clucking in the coop that was tied to the end of the wagon. On the outside, tools and water barrels were fastened to the wagon.
Luke stepped onto the wagon tongue and reached into the wagon, moving a sack of flour and a keg of pickles to find a place for Nora’s belongings. “Have you ever driven an ox team?” he asked when he turned back around.
Nora looked at the six oxen hitched to the front of the wagon. The huge beasts returned her stare without much interest. She swallowed. “Me?” She had assumed that Luke would handle the oxen.
He seemed to guess her thoughts. “I need you to drive the oxen some of the time while I earn some extra dollars helping the Captain out with his cattle.”
“But what about my daughter?” Amy was only three, so she couldn’t leave her unsupervised.
“She’ll be fine in the wagon or walking along. The oxen move real slow; you just have keep an eye on the child so she doesn’t get crushed by the oxen’s hoofs,” Luke advised.
Nora tried not to let her emotions show as she stared down at the oxen’s heavy feet. Growing up as the only daughter of a wealthy family back east, she had never needed to do physical labor in her life, and she had certainly never driven an ox team, but she was not afraid to try. Anything would be better than working in a brothel. She nodded with determination. “Where are the reins?”
Luke shook his head. “Oxen aren’t driven by reins. They don’t wear bits in their mouths.” He pointed to the wooden yokes around the oxen’s necks. “You walk alongside, shout commands and crack your whip to keep them moving.”
Nora’s fingers closed numbly around the whip Luke handed her.
At the front of the wagon train, a bearded man on a large black horse lifted his arm in the air and his yell “to Oregon” was repeated down the line of wagons. The wagon in front of them began to move forward, falling into line with the rest of the wagon train.
“Your turn.” Luke gave her a nod. “Let’s get these boys movin’!”
Watching the teamsters in front of her for another moment, Nora lifted her arm and tried to imitate the elegant flick of the whip.
“Whoa!” Luke quickly ducked. “Your aim’s a tiny bit off, dear wife.”
Nora squinted and again sent her whip through the air.
The oxen didn’t budge.
“Hey, Hamilton!” the man perched on the seat of the mule-drawn wagon behind them shouted. “Need help with the oxen or the woman?” He laughed.
Luke sent him a cold glance, but didn’t bother with an answer. Nora had expected him to take the whip from her and show her how it was done, but he didn’t. “Try again,” he encouraged.
“Move!” Nora yelled and prodded the lead oxen with the whip’s handle.
With an indignant “moo”, the oxen took a step forward and Nora flicked the whip in their direction to keep them moving.
“Think you can handle it?” Luke asked, looking down into her face.
Nora quickly wiped a bit of sweat from her forehead. “Of course.” She was determined to prove that she would be a hardworking wife and useful partner for this man.
“All right, then I’ll leave you to your new friends.” He untied his horse from the back of the wagon, smoothly swung into the saddle and rode away.
They reached the edge of town and Nora looked back over her shoulder, her eyes quickly finding the two-story building that had been her home for two years. Weeping member’s of someone’s family stood waving along the streets, but no one was there to say goodbye to Nora and her family. Nora’s friends and colleagues were still sleeping after a long work-night, and Luke… Does he have any family or friends? Nora didn’t know. I don’t know a thing about my husband, she realized.
Her thoughts were interrupted when the oxen, left unattended for a few moments, began to slow down. Nora quickly cracked her whip through the air. She wasn’t sure that she would be able to get them moving again if they stopped.
“Mama!” Amy piped up next to her. “Don’t hurt the cows!”
Nora suppressed a groan. “They’re not cows, sweetie. They’re boy cows, and you call them ‘oxen’. And I’m not hurting them, I promise. I’m just telling them where they have to go.”
“Where do we go, Mama?”
“We’re going to a place called Oregon.” Nora realized that she didn’t know their exact destination, and even if she had known the name of the town Luke planned to settle in, she would have been none the wiser, because she had never been west of Independence and knew nothing of these far away places.
Amy looked up at her with her innocent green eyes. “Is it pwetty?”
Nora was spared from telling her daughter a possible lie about Oregon’s prettiness by a horde of children that ran by their wagon.
Amy’s gaze followed them with longing. “Mama, can I go play with them?”
Nora hesitated. Amy had never had a lot of friends to play with, because their neighbors hadn’t allowed their children to even speak to the illegitimate bastard of a prostitute. She wanted Amy to build friendships, but would she be safe running around in this chaos of wagons, mules, oxen, and horses?
“It’s all right.” A dark-haired woman fifteen years her senior walked over and smiled at Nora. “My Hannah will look after her. She’ll be fine.”
Slowly, Nora let go of her daughter’s hand. “Don’t go too close to the animals,” she warned and watched Amy run off with a girl of maybe eight.
“She’s your only child, huh?” the dark-haired woman asked.
Nora nodded, still looking in the direction the children had gone.
“Not for long, I’ll bet.”
Nora whirled around. She stared at the woman.
The woman chuckled. “I’ve seen your husband,” she said with a wink.
Nora relaxed a bit. Yes, her husband was a young, healthy man and on this journey with no single women, it wouldn’t be long until he wanted to share her bed.
“Bernice Garfield.” The older woman extended her hand.
Transferring the whip to her left hand, Nora greeted her new neighbor. “Nora M… Hamilton.”
* * *
Luke had a lot of time to think while she coaxed along the small herd of milk cows, spare horses and extra oxen that plodded behind the wagons. Time to think and to curse herself… “What the hell are you doin’?!”
She had never imagined that she would start this journey as a married “father”. From the day when she had run away from home and started to disguise herself as a man, she had known that she was destined to live a solitary life. Over the years, she had sometimes longed for companionship and a place to belong, but she always knew that she would never have love or a family. And you still haven’t, she told herself. She’s your wife in name only.
“What on earth gave you the idea that you could get away with this?!” Luke muttered, shaking her head at herself. She had acted on instinct, completely impulsive, when she had met the young prostitute. Something about Nora and her daughter just made her want to change their lives for the better. But now, Luke began to doubt her ability to play the role of husband and father without anyone discovering who and what she really was.
Being around Nora made her a little uncomfortable. She couldn’t relax in her presence, because she was afraid to give herself away or at least sound and act like a clumsy fool who had never been around women. You haven’t, she mocked herself. Luke had lived most of her life in a world without women. The only females she had any experience with had been prostitutes – and Nora wasn’t a prostitute any longer.
“Hey, Lucas!” Abner McLoughlin, the wagon train’s captain, stopped his horse next to Luke’s Appaloosa and looked down at Luke from his large gelding.
Luke’s mare was not a tall horse, but she was hardy and well-trained, and Luke knew that she would be part of a successful breeding program one day.
“Luke” she corrected. “No one’s called me Lucas since I was eight and broke my mother’s priced china plates.” No one had ever called her Lucas, and her mother had never owned china plates, but the Captain didn’t know that.
McLoughlin nodded and pointed to the last wagon in the line. “Isn’t that your daughter?”
Luke blinked. Hearing someone refer to the girl as her daughter was going to take some getting used to. Her saddle creaked as she shifted forward and stood in the stirrups to get a better look at the girl the Captain had pointed out.
She hadn’t really paid all that much attention to the girl and how she looked, but she assumed that Nora’s daughter was the only redheaded child in the wagon train, so she nodded.
“Then you better go and take her away from there. She’s gettin’ mighty close to Potter’s cow,” McLoughlin warned.
The red-haired girl was running and playing with an older girl and didn’t pay much attention to her surroundings, not noticing that she was getting closer and closer to the nervous cow that was tethered to the rear of the last wagon.
Luke opened her mouth to shout out a warning, but then closed it with a curse when she discovered that she didn’t even know the girl’s name. For God’s sake! You’re supposed to be her father and you act like you don’t even know the child!
The girl was dangerously close to the cow’s hind legs now. With a loud yell, Luke spurred her horse forward and, leaning sideways in the saddle, snatched the girl up, out of harm’s way.
The girl’s eyes widened and for a second, she just stared at Luke. Then, suddenly realizing she was in a stranger’s arms, she began to cry and struggle against Luke’s secure grip.
Now it was Luke’s turn to stare wide-eyed. Even as a child, she had never been around children much, so she didn’t have the slightest idea how to comfort one. “Hey, hey.” The girl continued to cry and Luke looked around nervously, afraid that someone would think she was hurting the child. “If you don’t stop struggling, you’ll fall from the horse!”
The girl sniffed and looked down with watery eyes, noticing for the first time that she was on a horse. Instantly, she relaxed in Luke’s nervous grip. “Amy rides horsie!”
Amy! Yeah, that’s her name. Luke watched as the girl reached out a small hand and patted the mare. Great! She can’t stand me, but she loves my horse.
Amy leaned down to press her wet cheek against the mare’s neck. A sloppy kiss landed on the Appaloosa’s mane, and the girl giggled as the brown and white strands tickled her chin. “What is his name?” she asked, looking up at Luke with big eyes.
“It’s a she, and she doesn’t have a name.” Luke had been calling her mare “girl”, but didn’t allow herself the sentimentality of naming the animal, because she hadn’t wanted to make her comrades think she was soft in any way.
“No name?” Amy eyed her incredulously.
Luke scratched her head. “Well… maybe you can find one for her.”
The girl smiled for the first time, her tears now forgotten. “I know! Daisy! Dat is pwetty.”
Daisy?! Luke tried hard not to grimace. That would ruin my reputation! “I think there already is a Daisy in the herd, and we wouldn’t want her to have to share her name, would we?”
Amy nodded, but hung her head.
“You’re a clever girl; I bet you know another pretty name,” Luke hastened to say before the crying could start again.
The girl looked up again. A shy smile dimpled her chubby cheeks.
I bet she didn’t have much praise and compliments from “men” in her life, Luke thought sadly.
Amy thought for a while and then mumbled, “Mea’les.”
“What?”
“Mea’les,” the child said again.
“You mean ‘Miles’?”
The little girl shook her head. “Mea’les,” she repeated.
Sometimes, it didn’t seem as if Luke and the girl spoke the same language. “And what is Meales?”
“I haved dat when I was vewwy sick. Look.” With a grave expression, Amy pulled the neck of her dress down a bit and pointed to a small, round scar just above her collarbone.
Luke looked down at the white spots dotted over the mare’s hindquarters and almost had to laugh. Amy’s logic was impeccable. “Measles!”
“Yes.” Amy grazed the clueless adult with a “that’s-what-I-said” gaze.
My priced mare is gonna be named after a contagious disease? Maybe Daisy isn’t so bad after all… But Luke didn’t have the heart to reject another of Amy’s suggested names. “Measles,” she repeated. “That’s very… unique. No other horse has such a clever name.”
“Mea’les don’t need to share,” Amy said proudly.
“No, she doesn’t,” Luke agreed, suppressing a sigh. “She has that name all for herself.” Lucky horse. She directed the newly named mare along the line of wagons until she reached her own wagon.
“Mama!” Amy squealed when she spotted her mother, who was still walking beside the oxen. “Mama, look! I ride Mea’les!”
Nora whirled around. Her eyes widened, and her hand flew to her mouth when she saw her daughter in Luke’s awkward grip.
She doesn’t seriously think that I’d hurt the kid, does she? Luke wondered as she watched Nora rush towards them. Children make me nervous as hell, but I’d never hurt them!
“Amy! What happened? Is she all right?”
Luke watched as the girl happily jumped into her mother’s arms. Who would have thought… a prostitute who is a caring mother… “She’s just fine,” she assured Nora. “My horse may be a bit traumatized, but otherwise, everything’s well.”
Nora kissed her daughter’s cheek and eyed the mare. “What’s wrong with the horse?”
“Her name.” Luke grimaced.
“Mea’les!” Amy squeeled.
“She named her Measles,” Luke translated, pointing at the mare. “Because of the spots, I suppose.”
Nora threw her head back and laughed.
Luke felt her lips form an unfamiliar smile. She wheeled Measles around and rode back to the rear of the train.
* * *
Nora’s feet ached and burned, and she struggled with the weight of her sleeping daughter in her arms, but she was determined not to fall behind. She had walked fifteen miles today, but it felt more like fifty. When Luke had taken over the driving of the oxen, she had climbed into the wagon to travel more easily for a while, but had soon given up on that idea.
With supplies and tools piled high, there was hardly any place to sit. The springless wagon bounced and swayed along the rutted road. The inside of the wagon was stuffy and smelled of the various foods stored there, adding to the queasy feeling that the constant jostling caused.
Like most of the other women in the train, Nora had preferred to walk most of the day. For the first few hours, she had talked with Bernice Garfield and Emeline Larson, the shy young woman from the wagon behind them. After years of being on the outside, Nora loved to be included and to be asked for her opinion by respectable women. But as the afternoon and the miles dragged on, the easy chatter had ceased. Now, the creaking of the wagons, the shouts of the drivers and the clanking of chains filled the air. Sometimes, when a wagon hit a rock or a hole in the muddy trail, the pots and pans hanging inside the wagon clang against each other and the chickens in their coop raised a ruckus.
In the distance, Nora could detect three large brick buildings, and she sighed with relief. That had to be the Shawnee Methodist Mission the Captain had told them about when they’d stopped for an hour of rest at noon. Here, they would set up camp for their first night out of Independence.
When the sun dropped over the horizon, the Captain called a halt and swung his arm in a great circle.
Nora watched as the wagons formed a circle, the tongue of each wagon extending under the rear wheels of the next one. Chains laced the wagons together, until only one opening remained.
Nora turned to Luke, who had begun to unyoke their oxen. “Is that really necessary?” She pointed to the circled wagons. “I’d have thought the Indians wouldn’t be hostile here at the Mission…” She had heard the whispers about ferocious Indian attacks and what they might do to captured women, but she tried not to think about that.
She looked down at Luke’s hands that trailed along the oxen’s backs, checking for sores. The rough hands were surprisingly gentle with the animals and she hoped they’d be gentle with her, too.
Luke turned around. “I know a lot of people spread rumours that’ll tell you otherwise, but I think Indians will be the least of our problems on this trip. With most tribes, bargaining skills will be more important than marksmanship.”
“Then why do we circle the wagons?”
“Not to ward off any Indian attacks,” Luke said, his gray eyes reassuring. “The circle provides a corral for the animals, that’s all.” Without another word, he led the oxen to the water.
Nora stayed behind and looked around helplessly. She had never lived the life of a pioneer woman. She had never been expected to cook, build a fire or milk a cow. For a few seconds, she stood helpless, not knowing where to start and what to do. Then she observed what her neighbors did. “Come on, Amy, let’s gather some wood for a fire.”
While Nora struggled to get a fire started with the mostly damp wood, the other women all around her were already heading for the nearby stream with dented pots or preparing their family’s dinner. Her stomach rumbled when Mrs. Garfield ladled out a delicious smelling stew to her brood of children. Her tired hands struck flint and steel together again, but didn’t produce more than smoke.
“Mama,” a sleepy voice said next to her, “I’m hungwy.”
Nora bit her lip. “Soon, Amy, soon.” A shadow fell over her, blocking out the last light of the setting sun, and Nora looked up in irritation.
Luke, having returned from tending the animals, stood there and looked down at her.
Oh, no. Panic started to rise. The other men were already enjoying their evening meal and coffee next to a warming fire, while she had accomplished nothing. She had heard Mister Larson yell at his shy wife when she hadn’t worked as fast as he’d have liked. Would Luke get angry, too? He had married her to have someone who cooked, washed and provided a comfortable home for him – and now it turned out that she couldn’t even get a fire started.
She felt him kneel next to her and her trembling hands wanted to relinquish the flint and steel to him, but he shook his head. “No. If I do it, you won’t learn. Strike it again.”
Nora did and produced a spark, which Luke caught with a patch of dried grass, patiently coaxing a small flame to life. When the flames licked at the wood and the branches finally caught fire, he sat back on his heels and looked at her. “You didn’t grow up on a farm, huh?” he said with a sigh, but there was no anger in his voice.
Nora looked down into the flames. “It’s painfully obvious, isn’t it?”
“You’ll either learn or give up and turn back around,” Luke stated matter-of-factly. He moved to the back of the wagon and pulled off the tail gate to lift down the box of cooking utensils. He drove two forked sticks into the ground on both sides of the fire and swung the heavy water kettle up onto the pole between them.
Hastily Nora began to grind coffee beans.
“Mama,” Amy said around the thumb in her mouth, “we go home now, please?”
Tears suddenly burnt in Nora’s eyes, and she didn’t know what to say. They didn’t have a home anymore. “Sweetie…”
“Why don’t I take her to say goodnight to Measles before we eat,” Luke suggested gently.
Amy smiled for the first time in hours and she looked hopefully back and forth between Nora and Luke.
Nora hesitated. She had never trusted anyone but Tess and Sally alone with her daughter, and she had certainly never sent her off with a man she didn’t really know. She looked into the gray eyes of the stranger who was her husband and finally nodded.
Luke looked down at his hand, hesitating for long moments before he extended it.
Equally hesitant, Amy slipped her small hand into his larger one and walked off with him.
Nora only looked away from them when someone cleared their throat behind her.
Bernice Garfield stood there, holding a steaming pot in both hands. “Would you like to have some stew for yourself and your family?” she offered.
“Oh, no, thank you. I can make my own.” At least she hoped she could. Since she’d left her parents home, Nora had always been self-reliant and had never taken anything from anyone when she knew she couldn’t pay for it one way or another. She took a certain pride in making it on her own.
“I’d consider it a favor,” Mrs. Garfield said with a smile. “I made too much and we can’t possible eat it all, so if you don’t take it, it’ll go to waste.”
Nora bit her lip. Pride wouldn’t fill her daughter’s stomach. Finally, she nodded. “Thank you,” she said quietly.
* * *
With envy, Nora looked towards the Garfield’s fire, where most of the men had gathered with their pipes and a well-thumbed pack of cards to play Pinochle. While the men relaxed after dinner, the women’s work was never done. With a little advice from Mrs. Garfield, Nora had milked and fed the two cows, scrubbed their tin plates clean, and used the embers of the fire to cook a kettle of beans for their noon meal the next day. Finally, she took their provisions out to air them and prevent mildew and made up a bed in the wagon box for the tired Amy.
When she sat down to mend a few burn holes in the hem of her skirt, fiddles and a banjo began a lively tune and men with mouth organs joined in. Soon, the younger couples were dancing around the fires.
Nora set her needlework down and looked over at Luke who knelt by the fire and stirred the embers to keep it alive. All evening, he had kept himself apart from the other emigrants. He was clearly not a man of many words, but Nora saw his booted foot move to the music’s rhythm. She heaved her protesting body up and walked over to him. “Do you want to join the other dancers?”
“I don’t dance.” His eyes were dark and mysterious in the light of the fire. “And you should save the energy and go to bed.”
Suddenly no longer in the mood to dance or socialize, Nora turned away and forced her heavy limbs to climb into the wagon. She stared through the half-open flap and spent a few minutes trying to count the numerous campfires from other wagon trains all around them, before she turned around and watched her peacefully sleeping daughter.
The creaking of the wagon alerted her that someone else was climbing inside. Luke was opening the flap and slipped inside. He stood without speaking, silently watching her.
Her stomach roiled a bit, and she took an automatic step back, until she reminded herself, He’s your husband and this is his wagon. He has every right to be in here.
“Take off your dress,” he said, still not moving.
Nora wasn’t really surprised. She had known this would come, but the time and the place were a little astonishing nonetheless. Yesterday, when he could have had me in the privacy of my clean room, in my soft, comfortable bed, he refused. And now that I’m sweaty and smelly and can hardly move a limb, he wants to lie with me… She suppressed a sigh. Come on, you don’t need to move much for this. He’s your husband and this is the price you’re gonna have to pay. It won’t be that bad. She slipped into the familiar role of Fleur. “Why don’t you do it?” she answered seductively.
“Nora….” His voice held a silent warning.
With a groan, Nora lifted her arms and tried to slip off her bodice. Every inch of her body hurt and her muscles, stiff from walking and swinging the whip all day, protested every movement. She knew that she would be in acute pain tomorrow, but she was determined that Luke would hear no complaint from her. She bared her fair shoulders as seductively as her aching muscles would allow her to, but when she looked up, Luke had turned around.
“Lie down,” he commanded.
Nora sighed. He doesn’t want seduction. Right down to business it is. “Let me ask Mrs. Garfield if she would take Amy for tonight.”
“What?” He stared at her, but still didn’t look down at her half-naked body. “Why?”
“I don’t want her to wake up and see…”
“See what?” His brows lowered in confusion.
Nora stared at him.
“Oh! Oh, no, no, no!” Luke took a step back, almost falling out of the wagon in the process. “That’s not what I… I don’t expect that of you… ever. All right?”
Nora didn’t understand it, and she didn’t believe it. She stared at him in confusion.
“I just wanted to… rub your back for you,” Luke said quietly.
Nora gave an incredulous laugh. He wants to rub my back? She squinted and tried to read his expression in the almost-darkness of the wagon. What is this, some kind of fetish?
“I know what you’re probably thinking, but this is not about…that. I’m doing this for strictly practical reasons. If I don’t loosen your muscles now, you won’t be able to move tomorrow, and I’ll need you to drive the oxen again,” Luke explained matter-of-factly.
Stunned, Nora continued to undress.
Luke bent down, searching in one of the bags for something, and when he straightened up, his arm brushed her bare shoulder in the cramped space of the wagon. “Sorry,” he mumbled. He lowered his head, but for a moment, Nora thought she had seen a blush on his face. “Lie down,” he said gruffly.
With one last look up at him, Nora settled her sore body onto her bedding.
“Scoot over.” Luke kneeled next to her, and she heard him open a tin. A moment later, she felt his calloused palms on her skin, spreading soothing ointment over her back.
Nora shivered, not really sure if it was because of the cool salve or the strange, unfamiliar gentleness of his rough hands. She moaned as his fingers began to loosen her tight muscles.
From one of the nearby wagons came an answering moan as one of the other couples made love.
Luke’s hands disappeared from her back, and he shifted uncomfortably.
So, he’s not as unaffected as he wants me to believe… As a prostitute, Nora had learned to read her customers’ needs and wants – and she was good at it. She took no pride in that, but it had helped her and Amy survive when she had no other skills. She couldn’t make a fire; she couldn’t milk a cow; she wasn’t a good cook, and she’d never be able to give him the devotion and love a man deserved from his wife, but one thing she could give him, one thing she was good at…
Nora rolled onto her back, took Luke’s hand and pressed it against her breast.
His fingers twitched against her skin and for a moment, he stared down at her. Then he drew back with growl. “I told you that I don’t expect you to share my bed!”
Nora could still feel the heat emanating from his body, could still see the tension in his lean frame. Why is he holding back? “If you’re worried about getting me with child while we are out here on the trail…” She had heard some of the other women worrying about giving birth on the trail, so far from their family and medical help. “You don’t have to worry about that. In my line of work, we know means of preventing pregnancy other than practising abstinence.” She tried to draw him down again, but still he resisted.
“It’s not that.”
“What is it then?” Nora didn’t understand. She didn’t understand this man at all. In the last few years, her interactions with men hadn’t been pleasant, but at least they had been simple, easy to understand. It had always been clear what they wanted from her. With Luke, nothing was clear or simple. She didn’t know what he expected of her, what he got out of their marriage. If he had only married her to have a cheap cook and maid, he would have been more upset at her lack of skills in that department. And he clearly hadn’t married her for the conversation, because since becoming husband and wife, they hadn’t exchanged much more than a few polite words at mealtime. What does we want from this marriage? I don’t have anything else to offer him.
Why did he find her lacking? Why did he seem immune to her attempts of seduction? A sudden thought occurred to her. “Is it that you… prefer the company of men?”
Luke’s eyes widened.
She knew that another man might have struck her across the face for even suggesting such a thing, but even if she didn’t know much about her husband, her instincts told her that he was not a violent man.
His chuckle made her look up in surprise. “No,” he said with a mysterious grin. “I do enjoy the company of women.”
“Just not mine,” Nora concluded bitterly.
Luke stood and moved to the front of the wagon. “Go to sleep now. Good night.” Without an answer to her comment, he slipped outside and vanished into the darkness.
* * *
Luke pulled off her boots and lay down on her bedroll that she had unrolled beneath the wagon. She lay awake for a long time, listening to the sounds around her. In the wagon next to theirs, someone was snoring loudly, crickets chirped down by the gurgling stream, and in the distance, a lone coyote called to its mate.
The sounds were familiar; they weren’t the reason why she couldn’t sleep and neither was the coarse blanket that did little to cushion her body against the hard ground. Luke lay with her arms folded back and tucked under her head and stared up at the boards of the wagon above her.
The tar that rendered the wagon watertight made it impossible for her to see Nora, but she could hear her tossing and turning and sometimes groan when she tried to stretch her aching muscles.
With a sigh, Luke rolled onto her side and closed her eyes.
* * *
Nora woke suddenly. She looked around bewildered, until she remembered. The wagon train… I’m on my way to Oregon. Groaning, she lifted a hand and rubbed tired eyes. She wasn’t used to getting up early and felt as if she’d just gone to sleep. Every muscle in her body screamed at her when she turned around to look at Amy.
The place at the rear of the wagon was empty.
“Amy?”
“She’s with the Garfields,” Luke’s voice said from right outside the wagon. “And you better get up if you want breakfast before we hit the trail.”
Nora forced her tired body out from under the blankets and tugged on her boots.
The sun had already risen, streaking the sky with pink, and the camp was already teeming with activity. The men were bringing in the oxen and mules and drove them to the wagons for yoking and hitching. The women had already milked the cows, gathered the eggs and prepared breakfast and were now busy stowing away their cooking utensils and reloading the wagons.
“We’re pulling out at seven,” Luke said without looking up from the running gear he was checking.
Nora didn’t know what to say to him. After last night, the silence between them was awkward.
She was glad when Mrs. Garfield wandered over with Amy. “He let you sleep in today, huh?” Bernice Garfield commented while she helped Nora to stow the blankets in the wagon.
The smile she bestowed on the younger woman told Nora that she had heard the moans coming from their wagon last night – and had mistaken the groans of pain for sounds of passion. There was no privacy in a wagon train. Whereas the girls in the brothel would have teased her without mercy, Nora knew that as a “respectable lady” she wasn’t expected to comment on anything that might have gone on in her marriage bed. Which is a good thing, seeing how I don’t have anything to comment on.
Luke had let her sleep in. From the looks of it, he had even prepared a quick breakfast of beans and bacon and milked the cows, tasks that most other married men would have refused to do. But Nora knew that it was not the romantic gesture of an enamoured husband. He had simply wanted to avoid having to interact with her, because he felt as uncomfortable around her as she did around him.
With a sigh, Nora sat down for a hasty breakfast.
* * *
Luke leaned against the wagon, hidden in its shadow, and stared out into the darkness. The fires had finally burned down, and the camp was quiet.
Everyone was asleep, exhausted from the twenty miles they had made that day. Luke was tired, too, but she couldn’t go to sleep until she had taken care of an urgent business. The monthly reminder that she was not the man she pretended to be had once again set in.
The latrine, a hastily dug hole, wasn’t far away from the circled wagons, but Luke couldn’t use it to relieve herself and remove her soiled undergarments, because anyone who was answering nature’s call at this time of the night might stumble upon her and discover her secret. The landscape around the camp had no trees for cover, even the “lone elm” the campground had been named for had fallen victim to the axe of emigrants searching for firewood years ago.
So, Luke had waited until after dark. The guard who had taken up position outside the wagon circle looked to his right when the howl of a lone wolf came from that direction, and Luke quietly slipped away from camp.
The grass, growing tall as a man’s waist here at Lone Elm Campground, provided sufficient cover and soon, Luke was on her way back to camp. She crawled forward on her knees and elbows, then paused when she noticed that the guard was not where he had been before. Had he fallen asleep?
She parted the grass in front of her, trying to get a glimpse at his position.
A gunshot shattered the silence. Fire burned across her skin, and Luke sank back down into the grass with a groan.
* * *
“Mrs. Hamilton? Mrs. Hamilton?! Wake up, Mrs. Hamilton!”
Nora shot up into a sitting position when someone touched her shoulder. “W-what?” She stared bleary-eyed into Captain McLoughlin’s bearded face and flinched away from his touch.
“Your husband,” the Captain said, looking down at her with a grave expression.
Nora squinted in the light of the oil lantern the Captain held and looked around the small tent they had bought from another emigrant who had decided to turn back. Amy was sleeping nearby, but Luke had once again preferred to bed down elsewhere. “He’s not here,” she voiced the obvious.
McLoughlin nodded grimly. “He was shot.”
“What?!” Nora, finally awake, scrambled out from under her blanket. “What happened? Was there an attack? Did he… Is he…?”
The flap of the tent opened. “I’m fine,” Luke said gruffly. “You didn’t have to wake her, Captain.”
Even in the dim light, Nora could see that his face was pale under its tan. His expression was grim, but Nora wasn’t sure if he was trying to hide pain, anger or both. “What happened?” she asked again.
“Some goddamned overzealous greenhorn wanna-be-guard shot at me because he thought I was an attacking Indian, that’s what happened!” Luke grunted. “Can you imagine all the letters home? Former Lieutenant and war hero Luke Hamilton shot while following the call of nature!”
Nora almost had to giggle in sudden relief. She quickly lifted her hand to hide it.
Luke’s head snapped up. His dark gaze seemed to pierce her. “You think that’s funny?”
Captain McLoughlin stepped back. “I don’t think I’m needed here.” He hastily retreated from the tent.
Silently, Nora looked at Luke until he stopped scowling at her. “Are you hurt?”
Luke was searching through his saddlebags. “My pride, more than anything else,” he said without looking up.
Nora had to hide another smile. “Well, I can’t help you with that, but I can tend any other wound that you might have.”
“That’s not necessary.” With bandages and a small bottle in hand, Luke strode towards the tent’s opening.
Nora quickly blocked his way. “I’m your wife. Let me help you.”
“It’s nothing,” Luke insisted. “The bullet just grazed me.” He pointed to his left upper arm, where his white shirtsleeve was quickly turning red.
It had been a long time since Nora had been a squeamish girl, but suddenly, her stomach threatened to revolt at the sight of Luke’s blood. A few inches to the side and… “It’s not nothing!” she snapped. “You could have died!”
Luke just stood and stared at her.
“You could have died,” Nora repeated, this time in a whisper. “And what would have become of Amy and me then? A woman and a child alone on the trail for two thousand miles? Even if we made it to Oregon, we could never build a cabin and survive the winter on our own!”
Luke swallowed. It was obvious that he hadn’t thought about that. He had married her, yes, but he hadn’t really thought about the responsibilities that came with being a husband and father.
“Mama,” came Amy’s small voice from the darkness.
Nora kneeled down next to her. “Everything’s all right, sweetie. Go back to sleep.”
But the girl was wide awake now and stared up at her with wide eyes. “Why are you yellin’?”
“I’m not yelling. I’m just talking to Luke,” Nora said, caressing her daughter’s reddish locks.
“Luk’,” Amy repeated, looking around in search of her stepfather with a smile.
In the last two days, Nora had watched her daughter go from fear and distrust towards Luke to shy hero-worship. Amy was still cautious, but something about this new person in her life seemed to fascinate her, and it wasn’t just his horse like Luke had repeatedly commented.
“Hello, little one,” Luke said quietly. He kept his left side with the bloody sleeve away from Amy, something Nora was thankful for. “Do as your mother says and go back to sleep.”
“We go and say Mea’les goodnight,” the girl demanded.
Luke shook his head. “She’s already asleep.”
“Oh.” Amy’s lower lip quivered in disappointment.
Luke uncomfortably cleared his throat. He still didn’t know how to handle threatening tears from the girl. “But she told me you could come visit her tomorrow if you are a good girl and go to sleep right now.”
Obediently, Amy closed her eyes and a few moments later, she was fast asleep again.
“Now let me look at that wound,” Nora said.
“It’s just a scratch. I can dress it myself.”
Nora raised a skeptical eyebrow. Why do men have to be so darned stubborn? “With one hand? Let me do this.” She took the bandages from the still protesting Luke and pressed him down to sit on her blankets. “Take off the shirt,” she said when he just sat there without moving.
Luke started to roll up his left sleeve.
“No.” Nora shook her head. “I can’t reach the wound that way. Take it off.” She watched impatiently as Luke fiddled with the top button of his shirt, but didn’t open it. She was tired and just wanted to slip back under her blanket. “Excuse me if I have to be blunt for a second… It isn’t as if I have never seen a man in his altogether before. I won’t faint if I see your bare chest.”
The corner of Luke’s mouth twitched into a cynical smile, and he mumbled something that almost sounded like “I’m not so sure about that”, but then he finally pulled his suspenders down, undid the buttons and slid the shirt from his left shoulder. Under the shirt, he wore a sleeveless undershirt. “This doesn’t have sleeves,” he told her. “You can reach the wound.”
Nora carefully took his arm, a little surprised how smooth it was. She was used to the hairy, beefy limbs of her customers, and Luke’s slender muscles were surprisingly appealing. He’s bleeding, so stop ogling and start helping him, she reminded herself.
She took a clean piece of cloth and gently wiped away the blood around the wound. The bullet had just grazed him, but it had left a deep cut across his upper arm. “I think it would be better if I stitch it up.”
Luke’s eyebrows raised. “Do you know how to do that?”
“You mean am I as bad at it as I am with most other tasks around here?” Nora said with a smile.
Luke grinned. “Are you?”
“You’re gonna find out. Do you want some whiskey?” Alcohol was forbidden in the wagon train, but each family had packed some for medical emergencies.
Luke shook his head. Nora had already noticed in the brothel that he didn’t care much for whiskey and after meeting far too many violent drunkards, she was glad about it.
She kept her eyes on his face as she poured herbal tincture from the small bottle onto the wound to clean it. She knew from experience that the liquid stung, but Luke’s expression remained calm.
Nora threaded her smallest needle and tried to pretend that it was a ripped shirt she was piercing with the needle and not someone’s flesh. She had done this a few times before, but it never got any easier. By the time she was tying off the thread and put a light bandage over the stitches, she felt lightheaded and queasy. Swallowing heavily, she looked up into his face. “You all right?”
“Yeah, but you look a little pale.” He shrugged his shirt back on while he studied her.
Nora resolutely put away needle and thread. “It’s nothing.”
“That’s exactly what I said, but you didn’t believe me either.”
Without really wanting to, Nora answered his smile with one of her own. “It is nothing,” she insisted and rubbed her palm over her nervous stomach. “I wasn’t the one who got shot.”
Luke buttoned the cuff of his shirt. “You should be thankful for that, because I’m not half as good as you are with needle and threat.” He nodded down at his arm. “Thank you.”
“You’re not going back out to sleep under the wagon, are you?” Nora asked when he strode towards the opening of the tent.
“Yes, I am,” he answered without stopping.
Now that they had bought a perfectly good tent, Nora saw no reason why he should sleep under the wagon any longer. She had no real desire to share his bed, but she knew that people would start to talk if he continued to sleep apart from her. After two years on the edge of society, she didn’t want to be the woman everyone talked about again. “People will talk, you know,” she said quietly.
His hand had already lifted the flap, but now he stopped and turned back around. “Are you afraid of what people might say about us?”
“Afraid?” Nora listened to the sound of that word. “No. But it is nice not to be looked down upon for a change.”
Luke shook his head. “No one’s gonna look down upon you just because I prefer to sleep outside instead of in a stuffy tent.”
Is he really that naïve about human nature? Of course there’s gonna be talk! “I’m your wife and therefore they’ll judge me by how happy I make you.”
He didn’t even try to tell her that she did make him happy. It was clear that he had never relied on anyone else for his happiness and had always been his own master. With a sigh, he stared through the half-open flap into the darkness outside. “If it makes you happy, I’ll sleep inside tonight.”
Happy? Nora had long ago given up on waiting for another person to make her happy. That’s one thing we have in common at least. She didn’t even strive for personal happiness anymore, but would be content with a quiet life and a good future for her daughter. She couldn’t tell him that, so she hid her somber mood behind a smile. “Well, if you stay inside, at least it’ll decrease the probability that anyone’s gonna shoot at you again.”
“That sense of humor is gonna get you into trouble one day,” Luke grumbled as he reached for a blanket and lay down at the far edge of the tent.
Nora blew out the lantern, hiding her smile in the darkness.
* * *
Why did it have to be Oregon? Nora sent her husband, who was riding just ahead of her, a resentful glare. Why not settle down in a nice place in Missouri? A nice, dry place! Nora had been tired, wet and miserable for hours. Her daughter slept in the wagon, but she didn’t want to add to the weight of the already overloaded wagon the oxen had to pull. The animals appeared to be as miserable as she was.
A steady drizzle had been falling since they broke camp that morning. The rain turned every rut in the trail into a muddy obstacle that each passing wagon carved deeper and deeper into the earth.
Nora sighed as the wagons in front of theirs stopped again, because one of the wagons had gotten stuck in the clinging mud. Cursing, the men began to dig and push the wagon free. Nora adjusted her soaked through bonnet and looked down at herself with another sigh.
She had never really been a vain woman, but the way her physical appearance had changed in the last few days was disconcerting nonetheless. For the last two years, her looks had been a means to attract men and make money, and it worried her that that ability might slowly fade away. Her once fair porcelain skin was now sunburned and dusted with freckles, her formerly soft hands were blistered and rough, mud splatters and burn holes covered her skirt, and the once elegant red tresses hung down in sodden strands. Just what I need, when Luke didn’t find me all that appealing to start with!
Nora looked up from the calluses on her hands when the wagons began to roll again. She sent her whip cracking through the air and the six oxen strained heads-down against the rattling chains. “Come on, Cinderella! Pull, Snow White!”
Next to her, she saw Luke grimace at the names Amy had given to the oxen, and her lips formed a tired smile. “What’s this?” She pointed ahead, where a tree covered hill was rising from the flat grassland surrounding it.
“Blue Mound,” Luke answered.
Nora waited for further explanations, but none were forthcoming. “Can we climb it to get a look at what lies ahead?” She was eager for anything that might interrupt the monotony of traveling over endless prairie.
Luke shook his head. “We don’t have the time. If we don’t reach the Wakarusa River soon, we won’t be able to cross it for days.”
“I thought you said the Wakarusa is a narrow river with a gentle current?”
“Normally, it is, but after all this rain…” He shrugged and looked down at her. “We better hurry. Do you want to ride for a while?”
Nora eyed the Appaloosa. “Measles” was well-trained and went smoothly under her experienced rider, but Nora had never ridden a horse before – it hadn’t been considered ladylike in her family. “No, thanks.”
“You know, pride is a ballast we can’t afford on this journey.”
Oh, now he lectures me when he was the one who was too proud to let me tend his wound?! Nora secretly rolled her eyes. “It’s not pride.” With a deep breath, she swallowed her pride and admitted, “I don’t know how to ride.”
Luke stared at her, then he moved forward in the saddle and pulled his foot from the left stirrup. “Why don’t you ride with me, then?”
Her feet hurt, and she was too exhausted to argue. She gripped his offered hand and placed her foot in the stirrup. When he pulled, Nora gave a hop and swung up behind him.
“All right?” Luke turned his head to look at her.
Nora looked back down to the ground. The horse had looked much smaller from down there. She exhaled. “Yeah.”
Luke nudged the mare forward, and Nora quickly wrapped her arms around him, afraid to fall off if she didn’t. She felt the body under her hands stiffen, but he didn’t say anything. Quickly, Nora backed away, thinking she had pressed against his still healing arm. “I’m sorry! Your arm… Did I…”
“No. No, you didn’t. It’s healing fine. It’s just…” Luke cleared his throat. “I don’t like to be hugged.”
She stared down at her hands that rested on muscled hips. “This is not a hug,” she said bewildered. “I’m just holding on so I don’t fall off the horse!” She wasn’t particularly fond of hugs and physical closeness either, at least not with men. Being physically close to men had always gone hand in hand with having to endure their unwanted attentions, but to her surprise, she found that she didn’t find Luke’s closeness repulsive at all.
The oxen next to them fell into a faster trot.
Luke looked up. “There’s the river.”
Nora looked down the steep, muddy banks to the river that winded through limestone rocks. Like Luke had predicted, the once sluggish river was swollen by the rain. “Is it already too deep to ford?”
“Yeah, looks like it.”
“Then how will we get across?” There was no ferry that Nora could see and they couldn’t afford to wait for the river to go down, because with every day they lost, they risked getting caught by a snowstorm in the Rockies.
Luke dismounted and helped Nora down. “I guess we’ll build a raft and float everything across.”
Nora helped to unload the wagons, while she watched as the men cut trees and built a raft. The wheels were taken off the wagons and the wagon beds were slowly lowered down the steep banks by ropes. The best swimmers of the train swam across with the end of a rope that was attached to the raft. The first wagon bed was slid onto the raft and then pulled across by the men on the other side. Men with poles balanced on the raft, helping to push it in the right direction.
It was a slow process, and it was almost dark when it was finally Nora’s turn to step onto the raft. She directed Amy towards a place in the middle of the raft, so she wouldn’t be in any danger to go over, and took the place closer to the edge.
Next to her, Luke and a few other men began the backbreaking work of poling the raft across.
They had almost made it across when a huge wooden trunk, which had broken free from one of the wagon trains crossing upstream, crashed into the raft, threatening to tip it over. Nora, who had let go of the raft to rescue Amy’s beloved doll, lost her balance when the raft swerved. With flailing arms, she tumbled over the side.
Cold water crashed over her, pulling her down and choking her. The raging current shoved her downstream, and the weight of her soaked clothes pulled her down.
Panic rose. Her lungs began to burn. Nora kicked and thrashed, until she finally broke through the surface with a gasp. Air! She breathed in deeply, swallowed water and almost went under again.
She glanced around wildly, searching for something to hold onto. She saw Luke, leaning forward over the edge of the raft, extending the pole as far as he could in her direction, but not knowing how to swim, Nora couldn’t reach him.
Luke watched helplessly as the current swept her away.
Items that had gotten loose from other wagons and were now carried downstream slammed into Nora, and she struggled to keep her head above water. She cried out when something broke through the water’s surface right next to her, thinking it was another object that would crash into her.
Then Luke’s gray eyes looked at her through sodden bangs.
She threw her arms around his neck and clung to him with a stranglehold.
They both went under, and Luke fought to pry her fingers from his neck. Gasping and coughing, they resurfaced.
“Let go!” he yelled at her over the roar of the water. “Let go or we’re both going to drown!”
Reluctantly, Nora loosened her frantic hold on him and felt him grasp her under her arms. With powerful kicks of his legs and a one-armed sidestroke, he slowly towed her towards the riverbank. Finally, after what seemed like hours to Nora, they reached the other side.
Coughing and spewing water, Nora crawled up the muddy bank. “Amy,” she gasped.
Luke plopped down into the mud next to her. “She’s fine,” he said, slicking his hair back. “I told McLoughlin to stay with her. They should have made it safely across by now.”
Nora stared upstream, where she could barely make out the wagons.
“How long did you live in Independence?”
“What?”
“How long did you live in Independence?” Luke asked again.
He’s asking me about my sordid past now of all times?! “A little over two years,” she said, her teeth chattering from the cold water and the shock.
“You lived right next to the Missouri for more than two years, and you never learnt how to swim?” he asked incredulously.
Nora looked down at her soaked boots. “I didn’t exactly spend my time there taking swimming-lessons.”
For a few seconds, Luke was silent, not knowing what to say. Then he cleared his throat. “Why didn’t you tell me that you don’t know how to swim?”
“I didn’t think it was important,” Nora mumbled.
“Not important?!”
Nora shrugged and felt her wet bodice cling to her skin. “I didn’t plan on swimming across.”
Luke sighed. “Come on.” He helped her up. “We have to get back to the wagons. You need to get into some dry clothes before you catch your death.”
Captain McLoughlin met them halfway, some blankets and a crying Amy in tow.
“I’m fine, sweetie.” Nora wrapped her sobbing daughter into her arms. She absentmindedly nodded her thanks at Luke as he awkwardly hung a blanket around her shoulders.
By the time they reached the wagon train, all wagons had made it safely across, and Nora went in search of their wagon to change into some dry clothes. “Luke?” With Amy still clinging to her, she turned towards him when he made no move to follow her. “Aren’t you coming? You’ve got to get out of those wet clothes, too.”
He tugged his wet shirt and vest away from his skin with two fingers, but shook his head. “I have to go back and help swim the cattle across. There’s no sense in changing now, because I’ll be wet again by the time I finish.”
Nora noticed how he kept his gaze fixed firmly on her face, and she drew the blanket a little closer around her shoulders, aware of the way her wet clothes were clinging to her.
“Mama,” Amy mumbled against her shoulder. “Rosie falled in the water.” She looked up at her mother with sad green eyes.
“I know, sweetie.” Trying to grab onto Rosie, Amy’s beloved doll, had been the reason why Nora had gone over the side of the raft. “We’re going to get you another doll as soon as possible, all right?” She knew that out here on the trail, it would be nearly impossible, and she couldn’t afford the overpriced toys in one of the forts along the way. Sighing, she climbed into their wagon.
* * *
The smell of gunpowder, sweat and blood burned in Luke’s nose. She squeezed the trigger of her Walker Colt again and again, but the Mexicans just kept coming. With a click, the hammer fell onto an empty chamber. Cursing wildly, Luke grabbed the Hall carbine from the scabbard at the side of her saddle. As she swung the barrel up, the smoke of the artillery and rifles lifted for a moment and she caught a glimpse at her friend, fighting right next to her.
“Watch out! Behind you!” she yelled, but he didn’t seem to hear her. “Duck, Nate! Duck!”
A shot rang out.
“No!” Luke sat up, breathing heavily. She wiped her sweaty brow and listened in the darkness. There were no voices bellowing out commands, no whinnying horses, and no screams of terror, only the sound of the steady rain that pelted the canvas of the tent.
Luke sank back onto her blanket. God. It had been a long time since she had last dreamed of the war. Maybe it’s that damp hardtack you had for dinner, she tried to joke with herself. The continuing rain had made a fire impossible, so their dinner had consisted of cold beans and hardtack, a salty cracker that had been army food since the Mexican War.
Of course, Luke knew that the nightmare had nothing to do with the food. Having to watch someone she felt responsible for be in danger had brought back the memories of Nate’s death. She clenched her hands to fists as she remembered the helplessness she had felt when she had seen Nora being swept away by the swift waters.
She turned onto her side, facing the other side of the tent where Nora slept, intent on letting her quiet breathing lull her back to sleep. But Nora wasn’t breathing quietly, Luke noticed. She could hear her teeth chattering from across the tent.
Luke took the blanket that had served as her pillow and tiptoed through the tent. As she settled the blanket over Nora, she noticed that the sleeping woman was already covered by three blankets. Still, she was noticeably shivering under her pile of blankets.
“Nora?” she whispered.
Nora’s eyes opened and she stared up at Luke through the almost-darkness, but Luke was still not sure if Nora was really awake.
“Hey, everything all right?” Luke asked quietly.
“C-can’t g-get w-w-warm.”
Luke looked down at her. “You have four blankets.”
“S-still c-cold.”
I hope she’s not gonna suggest we share body heat to warm her up! “It’s just the shock,” Luke tried to soothe her. She had been in battle, so she knew how terrifying it was to come this close to dying.
Nora didn’t answer, but her teeth continued to rattle against each other.
I’ve never been good at that whole giving-comfort thing. With a sigh, Luke lifted her hand to fleetingly brush it over Nora’s cheek. “Jesus!” She pulled back in surprise. “You’re burning up!”
“A-Amy?”
“She’s fine.” No teeth-chattering came from under that blanket. “I’m gonna make you some tea,” Luke announced, not knowing how she’d manage to do that in the rain. She didn’t know what else to do, so she stumbled outside in search of some at least half-dry wood to build a fire.
“Luke? Is that you?” Jacob Garfield stood from the place where he’d settled down for guard duty.
“Yes, it’s me.” Luke looked up at the sky. Rain drops pelted her face, and a sudden idea came to her. “Your wife wouldn’t happen to own an umbrella, would she?”
Garfield stared at her. “An umbrella?”
“It’s not for me,” Luke said quickly. She didn’t want him to think she had any personal interest in ladies’ accessories. “Nora is sick, and I want to make her some tea, but I can’t get a fire going in this rain.”
An hour later, Luke returned to the tent, her arms piled high with every medicine she could think of. She kneeled next to a still shivering Nora and pressed a tin cup of hot tea into her cold hands. “Here. It’s willow bark tea. That should help with your fever.”
She looked down at the poultice of fried onions that Mrs. Garfield had told her to place around Nora’s neck, but hesitated to touch her. Oh, come on, Luke Hamilton! This is not about… having relations, this is about helping her!
Reluctantly, she pulled the long, red hair away from Nora’s neck and stared down at the fair skin for a second before she quickly put the poultice in place. She took the empty cup from Nora and helped her lie back down.
“C-cold!” Nora protested when Luke lifted the blankets away from her feet.
“Just for a second,” Luke ensured her. She had wrapped hot stones from the fire into an old shirt to help warm Nora’s feet, but as she set them down, she noticed that Nora’s stockings were damp from the rain. Hot stones wouldn’t help her any if she let Nora sleep with damp feet. “Is it all right if I take off your stockings? They’re wet.” Luke didn’t want to remove any article of Nora’s clothing without her permission.
Nora nodded weakly.
Pulling back her skirts a bit, Luke rolled down the black cotton stockings. She allowed herself just a second of admiring the subtle curve and soft skin of Nora’s calves, then reached down to dry off her feet. Luke stopped when she got a good look at Nora’s feet. Blisters covered the soles of her feet, and some had broken already, leaving her feet raw. Oww, that must hurt!
She looked up into Nora’s pale face. Despite the pain she must have felt, despite the hardships on the trail, she had never complained, had never asked for help. She was clearly a woman who had been on her own for years and had gotten used to taking care of herself. Suddenly, Luke yearned to be there for her.
She reached for the ointment in her saddle bag and applied a thick coat of salve to Nora’s feet, before she replaced the stockings with dry ones from Nora’s bag and covered her with the blankets again.
Nora finally stopped shivering and lay still when the hot stones warmed up her feet.
“Better? Do you think you can sleep now?” Luke knew that sleep would be the best medicine now.
Nora nodded and closed her eyes.
* * *
Return to the Academy