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“I heard the shouts.” He tossed the wood beside the Ladue wagon and rushed to Victoria, his attention drawn to the mud on her dress. “What happened? Are you all right?” He brushed at some of the heaviest clumps from the black cotton.
“Never mind me. I slipped while trying to get to Claude.” She pointed toward the crowd, where everyone hovered around the boy, slapping his back as he choked up dirty water.
“He fell in?” He took her arm and started in the direction of the crowd.
She went with him. “I haven’t decided yet. Nobody seems to know what happened.”
“What do you mean?”
“At this point, considering his choice of companions and their determination to prove to the grown-ups they could cross that water—”
“The Johnston brothers. Again.” Joseph looked up the creek toward the blond-haired boys, who had just managed to untangle the mess of knots in their rope and untie it from the tree. He frowned at the brothers, his dark eyes narrowing. “Claude wouldn’t just fall in for no reason.”
“That’s my concern.”
Joseph turned to her. “What concern?”
She pressed her lips together, sorry she’d been so quick to speak her mind. “Only that he could have been pushed.”
Joseph’s thick, black eyebrows rose. “You can’t think Buster or Gray could have pushed him.”
“Of course not, Joseph. Give me credit for a little common sense. Believe it or not, those boys are the least of our troubles if my suspicions are correct.” She shivered and glanced around them through the shadows of the forest once again.
“Victoria?”
There wasn’t time to get into that conversation at the moment. Soon, though. “Please disregard my chatter. I’m simply overwhelmed at the moment. Those boys were supposed to be helping gather wood for a fire to dry things out, and instead they’re doing what you told them not to. They need a firmer hand, Joseph, or they need to return to their father.”
Joseph crossed his sun-browned arms over his chest and shook his head. “All of us were supposed to pitch in, Doctor, and I’m not their nanny.”
She took umbrage at his defensive posture. “Not their nanny, but certainly their captain, and from what I understand, their father convinced you to bring them along. I thought you had nearly ten years of experience with captaining a wagon train.”
She pressed her lips shut at the brusqueness of her own voice and glanced toward the rescuers, who were having success in getting everyone out of the water. She needed to check on her patients soon and let go of this petty little ten-year resentment that had been doomed to cause friction between the two of them.
“I’m sorry, Victoria.” Joseph sighed, and the familiar deep voice that once whispered words of love in her ear held a note of sadness.
“Sorry?” Eyebrows raised, she turned back to him and was captured by the depth of those dark brown eyes, as she always had been. But she’d learned the hard way to look past a man’s words and mesmerizing eyes to the character beneath. His behavior had taught her to beware of other men, though that lesson had come too late for her to avoid his impact on her life.
“We seem to be at odds on this trip when we’re not avoiding one another,” he said. “It wasn’t what I’d hoped for.” Gone was the typical display of golden sunlight in eyes that were often touched with humor. She missed that.
She also missed the man she’d once thought Joseph to be. “Don’t lecture me about avoidance. I wasn’t the one who stayed away for ten years like a sulking child. You knew where Matthew and I were anytime you came to St. Louis.”
“That’s right.” He said the words with an emphasis that implied he’d explained it all, when in truth he hadn’t explained a thing.
“Don’t doubt my gratefulness, I do appreciate your arrival at the perfect time for me to escape an ugly situation, but I don’t understand why you asked me to join you on this trip.”
“I wanted you out of St. Louis. I worried about you all winter after word reached me about Matthew’s death.”
“Then where were you all winter?” She’d wondered that several times over the long, hard winter months, when neighbors became unfriendly and the sheriff tried more than once to convince himself that she had been the culprit in Matthew’s death.
“I was in Kansas Territory,” Joseph said, “bound in by snow.”
“Of course. My apologies. I heard the snows hit the Territory hard this past winter.” She couldn’t miss the fact that Joseph was studying her every expression with deep interest.
“I had hoped we could put old disagreements behind us,” he said, his voice softening. “I know you’re angry with me for some reason. You’re brooding.”
She wouldn’t try to deny that. “I apologize for making you uncomfortable.” She couldn’t tell him the truth—that guilt combined with old resentments made her awkward around him. While she grieved for her husband, the truth was Matthew had always known she didn’t love him the way a woman should love her man. Not the way he loved her. Not the way she’d loved Joseph....
“Matthew made me a top priority in his life,” she said. “You did not.” That was, indeed, a great deal of her problem, but it certainly didn’t explain why she’d been unable to dismiss Joseph the way he’d obviously dismissed her. “Indeed, you became engaged to another woman.” That, above all other things, still angered her when she allowed herself to think about it, and this was not the time to allow her temper to flare.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what made you think that, but—”
“Perhaps we could save this discussion for another time,” she said. “I have patients to see.” Without waiting for a reply, she strode away from him toward the crowd of wet and upset travelers. Why had she come on this trip? Now Joseph must think she would always be willing to simply drop everything and do whatever he wished.
How on earth could this situation get worse?
Chapter Two
Joseph stood staring after Victoria’s enchanting, black-clad figure, and considered, as he had dozens of times in these past weeks, that this journey could be his chance to correct past blunders. Yes, she had misunderstood his actions at the worst possible times, believed some wild tales about him that were completely untrue, and yet if he was picking up on the right signals, her heart was trapped in the same position as his. After all these years. It amazed and humbled him.
In spite of all the past tensions between the two of them, his father’s machinations to marry him off to another woman and whatever Matthew had convinced Victoria to believe, Joseph suspected, with growing excitement, that something within her wanted to block out all the efforts made by others to keep them apart.
Not that he would want his old friend—and perhaps foe, at least in romance—to die in order for Victoria to see the truth about their enduring love. Joseph was no romantic. Most folks married for the sake of necessity, and they had good, strong marriages. But for Joseph, there had always only been Victoria.
It mystified him still. Some people were meant to be together; he and Victoria were two of those people. He’d known it since their first kiss, his first desire to marry her and take her out of St. Louis and carry her home to meet his family.
If anyone should feel slighted about that time, it should be him. He’d merely wanted to introduce his soon-to-be fiancée to his family and friends at home, take her with him as he cared for family, being the oldest son.
Yet Victoria would have nothing to do with that; she detested slavery, and his father owned slaves in Georgia. Yet would she be gracious and allow him to prove his convictions to her? No. She merely rejected him. He had determined on his way back to St. Louis from Kansas Territory that he wouldn’t be so easily kowtowed this time.
Ahead of him, the woman who occupied his thoughts nearly slid to the ground. He caught up with her and reclaimed her arm, because if she fell again she could end up as a patient instead of the much-needed doctor. He resisted the impulse to remark on what she’d just said. She was right; this wasn’t the time to debate old hurts.
Right now they had people to see to, when what he wanted to do was gather some strands of her disabused hair and tuck it away. He loved the color of that hair, which matched a golden Missouri sunset. Though he also loved the shimmering blue of her eyes, he was glad they were walking side by side, because he didn’t want to meet her gaze.
This was not the time to explain why he’d avoided her and Matthew when they were married or admit the chink in his armor when it came to her. That would require a much longer conversation. Later.
As they strolled toward the others, he saw that McDonald and Reich had things well in hand.
“I apologize for not responding to the news of the death of your intended.” Victoria’s voice could bite with such gentleness that he barely felt it until the meaning struck him across the face. “I didn’t know about her for months.”
He cut her a glance. “I wrote to you.”
“I received nothing.”
“You should have.”
“And yet, somehow, I didn’t.” She snapped the words, as if she didn’t believe him.
“Now I’m a liar?”
She cut him a look of confusion. “I don’t know what to believe, Joseph, and I haven’t for a very long time. I only know you’re not the man I thought you were.”
“Of course I’m not. Then I was barely more than a rank youngster. People do grow, you know.”
She cast a glance toward the Johnston boys. “Let’s hope that’s true.”
He wasn’t going to let her take her jabs and then change the subject that easily. “I didn’t get engaged.” He thought about his dear childhood friend, Sara Jane. Despite Father’s wishes, Joseph and Sara Jane would never have married. He’d loved her like a sister, a trusted playmate from years before, who had grown into a fine woman and who was secretly betrothed to a man from Atlanta. She’d told Joseph all about it and he’d been happy for her. Though heartbroken at her death, losing her wasn’t the reason he’d turned his back on plantation life.
“That catastrophe was the result of my dying father’s desire to build an empire for his oldest son using a legal bond between a neighbor’s daughter and me.” Joseph kept his voice low. “Neither Sara Jane nor I were complicit in that arrangement, only our fathers. We were determined to break the supposed engagement together, but she sickened and passed away before any formal announcement could be made.”
There was a long silence before Victoria spoke. “I see.”
“I’m not sure you do. How did you hear of my father’s plans?” he asked.
Her arm stiffened in his grasp, but he held on and tried to catch a glimpse of her expression, see what she was thinking. He’d been able to do that once upon a time, but she held her own counsel as her attention focused on the crowd.
“Victoria?”
“Matthew told me of a letter you wrote to him.”
“He received my letters and you did not? Don’t you think that’s odd?”
“Why would I think it odd? From my perspective, you had forgotten about me and found someone else.”
Joseph gritted his teeth. How this woman could drive him to distraction with her stubbornness. “You didn’t at least read Matthew’s letter for yourself?”
“Mine and Matthew’s was a business partnership. I didn’t read his personal mail, nor he mine.”
Joseph took a moment for those last words to sink in. As they did, he continued to doubt his own perception. “Business partnership? You and Matthew?”
She tugged her arm from his grasp, and he realized he’d stopped walking. He caught up and fell into step beside her again.
“It was a socially acceptable way to form a partnership and spend all our time together as he taught me medicine,” she said. “You must have some grasp about how much there is to learn.”
“Dr. Fenway?” called Audy Reich from Mrs. Ladue’s side. “Hon, I think we need you over here.”
After a final look at Joseph, Victoria gathered her skirts and hurried toward the group huddled beside the raging creek. Joseph watched her for a moment, stymied. The Victoria Foster he had known and loved before she’d married Matthew Fenway would never have lied. But Matthew had always been an honorable man. If Victoria didn’t receive those letters, then who did?
* * *
Claude was still gagging and coughing up creek water when Victoria reached him. Luella sat on the ground beside her son. Although Victoria gave her an assuring nod, she felt ill equipped to give her friend any kind of assurance.
“Boy’s swallowed lots of water.” McDonald’s voice was gruff as if from years of disuse in his solitary search for trails. “Luella did, too.”
“No, see to Claude,” Luella said. “I’ll be okay.”
Victoria tugged Claude onto his side as the creek continued to pour from his mouth. “We’ll take care of all of you. Mr. McDonald, would you brace him for me?”
She saw Joseph watching from a distance, waiting for a signal. She nodded, and he returned it. Time to get the treatments started.
Heidi wrapped her arms around her mother, sobbing. Luella’s hair was drenched with mud that covered her clothing and face. Victoria took both mother and daughter into her arms.
“This is horrible.” Luella’s whispered words came out staccato from her shivering body. She twisted her work-worn hands in her lap.
Victoria grabbed the blanket a man offered then wrapped it around Luella’s shoulders. “I know. Take deep breaths—try to relax.”
“I just lost Barnabas last year.” She looked at Victoria with frightened eyes. “To think that I might’ve lost my Claude....” Luella’s sobs came in silence, as if from long practice, and Victoria held her more tightly. “Captain Rickard and the men are gathering logs. This won’t be comfortable, but we’ll do what we can to keep you well.”
Luella nodded, sniffing. “I’m sorry. I know you lost your Matthew last year. You know how it feels.”
Victoria felt like an imposter.
Mr. Reich knelt beside them, jerking his head toward the water. “Think we’re far enough from the danger, Doc?”
Victoria glanced at the creek, which, if anything, carried more refuse than before. “I believe we should find our way farther up into the forest for safety.” She helped Claude and Luella onto their feet, dreading the consequences of this awful day.
* * *
McDonald walked over to Joseph. “I’ll go get more logs, Captain, unless you’d rather I go knock those Johnston boys’ heads together.”
Joseph thought about it a moment, then shook his head. “I’ll deal with them. But I think we have enough logs for now. Just don’t go trying to cross the creek before morning.”
McDonald nodded and turned to help the others move closer to the wagons. Joseph made his way toward the Johnston boys as they stretched out their rope and leaned crazily over the floodwaters to wash off the mud.
Buster, eighteen and full of vinegar, had a longish face and sharp features that made him look serious and much wiser than his years. Much wiser than he actually was, for sure.
“That clumsy oaf got the rope all tangled and then dropped one end into the water,” Buster said. “We barely caught it before a log could get tangled in it. Then the mud just fell out from under him and we couldn’t get him out.”
“He isn’t clumsy.” Gray glared at his brother in an unspoken reprimand. “We tried to grab him.” The younger brother was by far the smarter of the two, but Buster controlled him like a pet dog. “I almost had him, but then he caught that old stump. I told him to hold on and I’d get the rope.”
“And you didn’t think to pull him out?” Joseph demanded.
“What was he supposed to do?” Buster asked. “We needed the rope for that. Couldn’t reach him any other way. He was too far out.”
“His mother didn’t have any trouble getting to him,” Joseph said.
“He’d floated farther down by then.” Buster’s voice rose with youthful outrage. “I was trying to get the rope untangled so I could throw it out for him to catch.”
Joseph reached for the rope in question. “I’ll take that if you don’t mind.”
Buster refused to release it. “Hey, you can’t take my dad’s rope away from us! We’re going to need it.”
“You mind telling me why you felt it was so important to stand over here and plot to cross the creek when you’d been ordered not to?”
“We would’ve waited for the right time.” Buster’s contrary attitude had begun to irritate Joseph from the first day the boys joined them. Buster also knew how to egg on the younger boys. He was a natural leader—a dangerous quality in one so pigheaded.
Joseph stepped forward and loomed over Buster until the boy released the other end of his prized rope. “You need to think past the end of your nose, Johnston, before you get someone killed.”
Buster grimaced and looked away. “Claude’s fine, isn’t he?”
