Free The Promised Land (Destiny's Dreamers Book 2) by Kathleen Karr Page B

me!’’
    “Well, I did some of that, too.’’
    “Not enough, apparently.’’
    “Come on, Meg. What’s wrong with a little harmless dancing?’’
    “What you were doing with that woman last night was not harmless!’’
    “You were off in a wretched humor. What was I supposed to do?’’
    “Come and get me out of my wretched humor! Maybe even teach me how to dance.’’ Maggie banged her spoon against the porridge pan. The stuff really was becoming disgusting.
    Jamie strolled up with Charlotte in tow, took one peek into the pot and grimaced.
    “Porridge again? People over to the Donners are eating bacon, and real bread, and jam .’’
    “ We are eating porridge again.’’ She slammed some into a dish and shoved it at him. “Here.’’
    Jamie looked at his mother, then his father. “Is the day after the Fourth always like this? `Cause if it is, I think I’ll pass on the Fourth next year.’’
    Neither of his parents laughed, or even smiled. Jamie took his plate and rambled off in the direction of the Donner Party. Maybe someone would take pity on him and slap a little jam on top.
    Johnny ignored the oatmeal and went off into the grass to seek a quiet brooding place. Maggie spooned porridge into Charlotte, put her into the wagon for a nap, and walked back out. Her glance took in both their wagons and all their earthly possessions. Was it really worthwhile, this thing they were doing? Would the printing press Johnny had salvaged so long ago ever make it to Oregon? If it did, would they~she and Johnny~would the two still be working together as a team, or would their current differences pull them still farther apart?
    Maggie was fixing to allow herself a good wallow in tears when a movement caught her eye near the front of Johnny’s wagon. Had he returned to fuss with the traces? He’d been complaining that one of them was developing a crack.
    No. Even with their fight and his hangover, Johnny would not be moving so stealthily. Maggie strode over to see what was going on for herself. Fight or no, this was still Stuart territory, hers as well as Johnny’s.
    As she rounded the corner of the white top she caught a head pulled swiftly from the front opening. The man straightened himself to his full height and faced her.
    “Mr. Gentry! Have you any particular reason for poking into affairs obviously not your own?’’
    “Ah, the still fair Mrs. Stuart! So you’ve discovered my name!’’
    His voice was oily today. Maggie trusted him even less than the night before.
    “And you mine,’’ she shot back.
    “It is a small world after all, this mutual camp of ours.’’ He brushed back his full head of hair trying to disguise the grease he’d gotten upon his pristine fingers.
    “Riding with our train gives you no right to trespass.’’
    “I was merely . . . seeking your husband. To inquire after his health.’’
    “It would have been far better without the intervention of your fist last night.’’
    Gentry chose to appear affronted. “I did not start the altercation, Madam.’’
    “Fair enough.’’ Maggie sighed and backed off a step. Gentry took the opportunity to move forward several paces.
    “I couldn’t help noticing the sign on your other wagon. About books. And, er, what appears to be a Ramage printing press in this wagon.’’
    Maggie decided not to budge another step. She had a very strong suspicion that Gentry’s words carried more meaning than he intended. How would a man like this know enough about presses to recognize theirs as a Ramage?
    “Are you in the trade yourself, Mr. Gentry?’’
    “Peripherally, just peripherally. You don’t see many Ramages heading West. You don’t even see many back in the states.’’
    “I’m not an expert. You’d have to take up that subject with my husband.’’
    “Perhaps I shall.’’
    He moved closer. Maggie could feel the warmth of his body. And a man smell about him. Not like Johnny, or even Red Eagle. It seemed compounded of bay