Free Prairie Wife by Cheryl St.john Page B

to all of us."
    "And your husband allows you to place yourself in danger out
here?" Barnett asked.
    Amy cast him a glance. "My father taught me to ride when my
family came to Nebraska. When I met my husband, he taught me to shoot and
protect myself, Mr. Barnett. I'm not helpless and my husband doesn't treat me
as if I was."
    William Hunter hid a smile at Amy's response and continued as
though Barnett hadn't interrupted. "My son started a newspaper in a small
town west of Denver City," he told Amy. "He wrote a while back,
asking me to come join him now that he has the shop operating and has built a
house. So I sold my little cobbler shop in Pennsylvania, and took a train. I
thought I'd be at my destination tonight."
    "It should take only another day or so to get you
there," she assured him.
    Hermie joined them, and a few minutes later Sam returned. His
knees cracked as he knelt beside the fire. "Cussed rain gets to my joints
every time," he said.
    "Your knees seemed fine whilst you were totin' Miss Sullivan
about," Hermie observed.
    Sam pointedly ignored that comment.
    Hermie and Amy shared a sly glance. Come to think of it, her
father had been showing Eden considerably more attention than he had the other
travelers.
    "Do you have children, Mrs. Shelby?"
    William Hunter's innocent question jerked Amy's thoughts in
another direction and caught her by surprise, twisting the knife that was
always at the ready in her heart. Quickly picking up her rifle, she stood.
"I'll make sure the rest of the women get bedded down, and then I'm
turning in."
    "Did I say something wrong?" William asked Sam.
    Sam shook his head. "She's a little tetchy on the
subject."
    "Fine daughter you have there."
    "Finest daughter a man could ask for," Sam agreed. But
his expression showed more than pride as he watched Amy assisting the women.
Compassion was her nature. She'd always been ready to offer help or sympathy or
just an ear. He'd seen a change come over her after his grandson's death. It
was as though she'd put her life up to that point behind her, and her new life
had started the day after they'd buried Tim.
    The briefest mention brought censure. Sam, Jesse, even the help
had been abiding by her wishes for the past year. No one, not even Jesse,
forced her to talk about Tim.
    And things had grown worse than that.
    Though Sam went home to his own place every night, talk got back
to him that Jesse had been staying nights at the boardinghouse. He couldn't
shake his growing feelings of concern, but he didn't know what to do to help
her.

Chapter Five
    By morning, the rain had turned low sections of the prairie into
knee-deep mud. Two of the wagons were mired nearly to the axles, and the tired
teams couldn't budge the conveyances forward. The smells of wet animals and
soggy wool clothing permeated every breath. Amy and her father considered their
slim choices.
    "We could try harnessing all the horses to one wagon to pull
it loose," Sam suggested.
    Amy nodded, mulling over his idea. "But we'd have to do that
to both wagons, and the animals are already tired. I wouldn't want to risk
injuring them. Besides, how could we even be sure they could continue pulling
the loads once we got the wagons out of these holes? We could easily just roll
into others."
    Sam peered at her through the battering rain. "Jesse would
have my hide if his horses came to harm."
    "He'd want us safe first," Amy was quick to say.
"But that plan won't guarantee to keep us moving."
    Frustrated and wet, Sam and Amy reinforced the shelters. They'd
run out of dry chips and kindling, so they didn't even have warmth or coffee.
The poor travelers they had taken under their wings huddled chilled and wet to
the bone beneath the makeshift tents, forlorn and miserable.
    It had been Amy's suggestion to come out here and get them, and
now they were worse off than before. Back at the train, they could have used
coal and wood for fire, and eventually someone would have found them. Amy
berated herself for