High Plains Bride. Valerie Hansen

And now he was gone. Forever.

      As she returned to her mother and youngest sister, Emmeline swiped at her damp cheeks. She was upset with herself for losing control and even more upset with her father for risking all their lives by pressing onward when he knew there was imminent danger.

      And, she had to admit, she was also disappointed that her prayers for their safety had not been honored. Why not? Why had God taken Papa from them? Why hadn’t Bess and the twins returned to them? And why was Mama trapped?

      Realizing that she still had much to be thankful for, Emmeline sobered and sighed. They’d lost one ox, one man and many of their belongings. But she and Mama and Glory and Johnny were still alive and kicking. And Bess and the twins would probably wander back to what was left of their wagon any moment now. Given the severity of the tornado and its accompanying storm, they had probably fared better than many others who had been caught up in the same terrible calamity.

      Emmeline cupped her hands around her mouth as she stepped to the edge of the trail where the muddy ruts ended and the grasslands began. “Bess?” she hollered. “Bess? Missy? Mikey? You can come back now!”

      To her chagrin, no one answered and no one’s head popped up from the beaten-down, thickly matted grasses in the distance.

      If she had been sure in which direction to search, Emmeline would have begun to look for them at once. As it was, however, she was so turned around, so disoriented, that she had no earthly idea where to start.

      Therefore, her first task had to be to try to free her mother. After that, if Bess wasn’t back, she and Johnny could take turns staying by the wagon or working their way through the soggy vegetation in careful circles until they located the missing children.

      Bess and the twins would be fine, Emmeline kept assuring herself.

      She just wished she truly believed it was so.

      Chapter Three

      Will swung by his house, then backtracked to the High Plains settlement as soon as he felt certain his men could manage without him. His home was unscathed, but he was concerned about his friends. And, he was worried about the fate of the wagon train.

      He huffed in self-disgust. Who was he kidding? It wasn’t the whole train he cared especially about, it was the young woman he’d met mere hours ago. He wanted to believe that her strength and spirit would ensure her safety, but he knew that wasn’t the case. It didn’t matter how capable or brave a person was, no one had the advantage when caught in a storm the likes of the one that had just passed over the area.

      Groves of trees had been mowed down in a narrow swath leading directly to town. As he rode nearer he was flabbergasted by the damage to the buildings, too, not to mention the destruction of the less substantial tents and shacks along the river that had not yet been replaced by more sturdy construction. Many of those were not merely damaged, they were gone! Will paused to murmur a brief prayer for the new settlers. He hoped they had all found a safe place to weather the storm.

      Judging by the brave souls who were out and about, picking through the rubble and surveying the destruction, most had taken shelter in time.

      He paused to ask the closest survivors, “How is everybody?” and was relieved to hear that there had been no deaths reported, as yet.

      The town hall, of which they had all been so proud, had been leveled as well, leaving nothing but the limestone rock foundation. Part of the roof was also off Pete Benjamin’s blacksmith shop and it appeared that some of the substantial stores along Main had been hard hit.

      Will cantered upriver, in the direction of Zeb’s mill, slowing to allow his horse to choose its footing carefully in view of the debris. An amazing amount of refuse littered wide Main Street and it got worse along the narrower Mill Road that led west, toward the falls. There, although many of the trees still stood, they were missing their tops and their remaining branches held all sorts of rubbish, as if a giant, malevolent hand had discarded it there.

      He passed a small group of wagons, also tattered and wrecked, before he encountered his old friend, hoofing it into town. “Zeb? You okay?” Will shouted, quickly dismounting to join him.

      To his relief, Zeb answered in the affirmative. He had a slightly bloody handkerchief pressed to one temple and his clothes were filthy, but he seemed otherwise unscathed.

      “I’ve been better,” Zeb said, dusting off his trousers with his free hand. “The mill’s a mess. I don’t think there’s even one shingle left, not to mention the heavier lumber. How about you?”

      “My house made it and the rest of the Circle-L is fine, too, along with all the hands, thank the Lord. We headed off a stampede and kept the buffalo at bay. It was close though.”

      “Sounds like you did better than we did,” Zeb said, grimacing and gesturing at the destruction all around him. “Look at this. It’s unbelievable.”

      “Nothing that can’t be fixed,” Will told him, “as long as all the folks are okay. How about your sister?”

      “Cassandra’s fine, thanks.”

      “Good. Has anybody checked Pete’s? The livery stable didn’t look too good when I rode past. I didn’t see any sign of him or his farrier, Edward.”

      “I’m going to organize a search party to cover everyone’s place and make sure they’re alive and kicking. What are you going to do now, go back to your spread or stay here and help us?”

      Hesitating, Will was reluctant to admit what was nagging at his conscience. “I’ll help, of course. But first, I thought I might ride out and see how that wagon camp is faring.”

      “Some of them pulled out before the storm. I warned them, but…”

      Will muttered under his breath. “I can’t believe it. What was their wagon boss thinking? Didn’t he see the signs in the changing weather?”

      “I wouldn’t worry. They probably didn’t get far,” Zeb said. “But you know settlers. They’re all alike. Once they get it into their heads that they have to press on, there’s no reasoning with them.” He paused and sighed. “Can’t tell about the ones who left. The ones that tarried certainly didn’t escape damage.”

      “Did you happen to notice a wagon with a real pretty older daughter? She had blue eyes and a dress to match, and dark hair.” He blushed when his friend waggled his eyebrows and stared at him.

      Zeb chuckled. “If I didn’t know you the way I do, Will Logan, I might think you were interested in her in a personal way. I thought you were looking for a widow woman with older children who just needed a home and hearth, not a swain.”

      “I didn’t say I was going to court the girl,” Will said flatly. “But her father is a nasty old man, a lot like mine was, and she was having to take care of a wagonload of children, including some that weren’t her kin. It’s perfectly natural that I’d be concerned for my fellow man.”

      “Yes,” Zeb said, “it is. Except in this instance, your fellow man is a woman.”

      “As if I didn’t know that.” Fisting his reins, Will put his left foot in the stirrup, grabbed the horn and vaulted easily into the saddle. “How long ago did the first wagons in the train pull out?”

      “About two hours, I think. I remember that the sky was already darkening when they passed by.”

      “All right. I’ll head down the trail and see how they’re doing, then come back and help you here.”

      “Be careful,” Zeb warned. “Just because the worst seems to be over doesn’t mean it can’t fire up and hit us again.”

      Will knew he was right. And that thought gave him chills all the way from his nape to the toes of his boots.

      Not only had the wagons been in danger before, they could be again. Soon. Perhaps even before he managed to reach them.

      Hoping