Frontier Courtship. Valerie Hansen

her tongue, especially if the news was disturbing.

      Pondering alternatives, Faith recalled their schedule. They were to lay over in camp the rest of today and tomorrow before pushing on to California. In that length of time she was bound to be able to sneak back into the fort and make some discreet inquiries of Anna Morse. She only hoped she could live with whatever secrets were revealed.

      

      The sun had crested and started toward the west as Faith waited on the plank walkway in front of the trading post. A small bundle from the mercantile, wrapped in brown paper and tied with string, lay at her feet where it had been for the past three hours. The rest of their purchases remained inside.

      Shielding her eyes from the afternoon glare, she seemed oblivious to the people pushing past. She fanned her burning cheeks with an embroidered handkerchief while looking left and right in anticipation of the arrival of the Ledbetters’ wagon. Repairs to the wheel must be taking a very long time.

      Charity tugged at her sister’s sleeve. “It’s fearful hot and dusty out here. I’m going back into the store.” She pulled harder. “Come with me.”

      “Just a moment more.” Faith pushed her slat bonnet off the back of her head, letting it hang down her back by its strings while she dabbed away the drops of perspiration on her forehead.

      “No. I’m frightened,” Charity insisted. “I told you, Ramsey…Captain Tucker…warned us not to come into town at all. He said he’d take care of buying our supplies for us. He was right. We should have listened to him.”

      Faith could hardly tell her gullible sister that the nefarious captain was not going to get his hands on any more of their money if she could help it. Not even to run simple errands. She’d paid dearly for their spot with the train because she hadn’t known any better. Now, she knew they’d been cheated. She wouldn’t play the fool twice.

      Instead of arguing she merely said, “We’ll be fine.”

      Cupping one pale hand around her mouth, Charity made a pouting face and leaned closer to whisper. “The Indians get more terrible looking all the time. See them scratching? I hate to think why. Makes me want to dip the hem of my skirt in kerosene to ward off the fleas!”

      “You’re being a silly goose.” Faith took her sister’s shoulders, physically turned the girl to face the door to the trading post, shoved the paper-wrapped bundle into her hands and gave her a push. “All right. Go on. Suffer in the stench of those stacks of awful buffalo hides if you want. I’m perfectly happy out here.”

      Charity turned back. “The captain told us to stay together.”

      “Captain Tucker is merely our guide,” Faith said flatly. “I will not pretend we aren’t beholden to him, but neither will I cede to his every command.”

      “I can’t believe you’re being so mean. He’s a brave and wonderful man.”

      “That remains to be seen.” Faith took a deep breath and made a decision. “Look, I can’t abide standing here wasting my time any longer. I have wash to do and food to prepare back in camp. Fixing one loose wagon wheel shouldn’t take this long. I’m going to walk to the blacksmith’s and see what’s delayed Mr. Ledbetter.”

      Charity gasped. “You can’t do that! Not here. Not alone.”

      “Then you’ll come with me?”

      The pale girl stepped back quickly, clutching the package to her breast. “I can’t. It’s not fair to ask me.”

      That reaction was what Faith had counted on. Two months as her sister’s constant companion and chaperone had been an insufferable trial. If the Lord hadn’t granted her an extra dose of patience, she’d surely have throttled the girl by now, especially when Charity had claimed she’d accidentally lost both their black dresses while washing them in a flooded river and they’d been forced to cease wearing mourning for their mother far too soon. For Faith, a few minutes respite from her familial duty would be like a breath of cool breeze in the midst of oppressive heat.

      She composed herself, then said, “All right, Charity, dear. Then why don’t you go inside and check the rest of our order to be certain everything is exactly as it should be?”

      “I could do that.” The younger woman began to blink and smile sweetly. “The captain would be proud of my efficiency, wouldn’t he?”

      “Undoubtedly. I’m certain Mr. Ledbetter will tell him you are the picture of virtue. And you needn’t worry about me. It’s obvious the army has plenty of men here to keep the peace.”

      “Oh. Well, if you’re sure you’ll be all right…”

      Wheeling quickly, Charity gathered her skirts and darted through the door.

      Faith breathed a relieved sigh as she turned away to look down the street. She’d often thought it must be a sin to wish for self-serving favors from heaven, yet there were times she couldn’t help hoping some suitable young swain would soon rescue her from her sister’s trying foolishness.

      Tiny flies continued to buzz around Faith’s head. Beads of perspiration gathered on her temples while sweaty rivulets trickled down her back between her shoulder blades. Ignoring the discomfort, she squashed her bonnet back on her head, whipped the ties into a loose bow and started off.

      Wide cracks between the rough-sawed boards of the walkway captured the narrow heels of her best shoes, forcing her to either descend into the street or chance taking a bad fall. Since Charity had never learned to handle the mule team, Faith certainly couldn’t afford to be incapacitated. Not unless she wanted to be compelled to put up with whatever form of retaliation or retribution the unctuous Captain Tucker decided to arrange.

      Since their last set-to over his brutality toward one of her mules that very morning, she’d suspected that the captain would shortly come up with some lame excuse why relief drivers, Ab or Stuart, could no longer be spared to handle her wagon. Well, fine. It would be her pleasure to show Ramsey Tucker that at least one Beal sister was capable of something besides giggling helplessness. If he wouldn’t provide the assistance he’d promised when she’d joined the train, Faith would handle the lines herself, just as she had at home in Ohio.

      She set her jaw. Tucker had underestimated her for the last time. She’d stood up to him before and she’d do it again. And, oh, was he going to be scalded!

      Faith shuddered at the memory of his dark, penetrating eyes, the way he’d stared at her, spitting that disgusting tobacco juice at her feet. He was not a person to be taken lightly. But then, neither was she.

      Clouds of choking dust billowed from beneath passing rigs as Faith hurried down the street. Grasping the brim of her bonnet, she pressed it closer to her cheeks. The din around her was so loud, so packed with shouts, curses, strange tongues and the sound of rolling wagons and clanking harness traces that Faith didn’t see the danger or hear anyone call out a warning until a melee erupted directly in her path.

      A door flew open. Glass shattered. Shutters banged. Three uniformed cavalrymen careened off the walkway and down into the street, tumbling, pushing, swinging and cursing as they went.

      Faith jumped aside. One of the men, a thin, filthy fellow who reminded her of a rickety calf, was bleeding from his nose. He wiped the blood on his dirty sleeve, then flung it aside, dotting her skirt with ugly red splotches.

      Disgusted, Faith was wiping at the stains in the green calico when a fourth man lurched off the porch. He hit her a jarring blow with his full weight. Breathless, stunned, she went sprawling in the dust.

      For an instant she lost track of where she was or what had happened. All too soon, it came back to her. Raising up on her forearms she tasted the gritty substance of the well-traveled street and found her mind forming thoughts quite inappropriate for a lady. Her only clean dress was a grimy mess, her bonnet was askew and, worst of all, no one in the crowd seemed to even notice.

      Pausing on her knees, she assessed her pain. Something was very wrong. If she hadn’t