Free Wagon Train Sisters (Women of the West) by Shirley Kennedy Page A

front of everybody must have cut deep. Would he ever get the courage to stand up to her?
    “…so they left,” Becky continued on. “They won’t be back. Mr. Morehead scared them off.”
    Jack had listened without comment, but at Becky’s last remark his mouth curved into a thoughtful smile. “I wouldn’t be too sure of that. Josiah Peterson is a dangerous man. Better hope you don’t run into him again.”
    In her usual aggressive fashion, Becky jutted out her chin. “If that’s so, Mr. McCoy, then why were you and Mr. Longren riding with that bunch of ne’er-do-wells?”
    “Because Mr. Longren and I can take care of ourselves.” Jack casually rose. “You have nothing to worry about, Mrs. Bryan, not with a fine husband like Hiram to watch out for you.”
    Becky had the decency to blush as he walked away.
    * * * *
    Sarah couldn’t sleep. Jack McCoy was on her mind, and she couldn’t get him off. So he was raised in a brothel? He’d said so little about himself, she was surprised he’d revealed as much as he did. Ever since then, she’d wanted to know more. The problem was, since their conversation the day she got frostbite, they’d had no chance to be alone and had barely spoken. She wished she could talk to him without half the wagon train within earshot. Among other things, she wanted to tell him how much she appreciated his standing up for Hiram and putting Becky in her place. Most of all, she wanted to know what his plans were now they’d caught up with the Morehead train. Would he and Ben leave the train behind or would they stay?
    If she couldn’t sleep, she’d go for a walk. All fires were out and the camp quiet when she threw a shawl over her long white nightgown and slipped from her tent. In the moonlight, she saw a figure walking, not too far away. Jack . What a coincidence—or was it fate? He stopped when he saw her. When she got close, he spoke in a low voice. “You couldn’t sleep either?” Before she could answer, he took her arm. “Not here. Let’s walk.”
    The moon shone bright as they strolled from the ring of wagons, far enough that they couldn’t be heard. They stopped and faced each other. Sarah laughed and said, “I shouldn’t be wandering around in my nightgown. Not ladylike at all.”
    “Are you really worried about being ladylike?”
    She ignored his question. “I loved it when you put my sister-in-law in her place.”
    He shrugged. “I only said what needed to be said.”
    She wanted to ask if he planned to stay with the train, but the words stuck in her throat. Pride kept her from asking. If she did, he’d know she cared, that she wanted him to stay so much she’d be downright devastated if he left. No, she was not going to ask. Grateful though she was for all he’d done, she did not care to be beholden to any man. And most definitely, she didn’t want thoughts of a man swirling around her head as they were doing now. But one thing she had to know. “Last time we talked, you said—”
    “That I was raised in a brothel. I’ll tell you more about it sometime. It’s not a pretty story.”
    In the waning moonlight, she felt, rather than saw, the intensity of his dark eyes looking into hers—eyes that had seen more than she could ever imagine. She wanted to hear more, but he’d guessed wrong. Curious though she was about his past, another question kept burning in her mind. If she asked it, she might be sorry, but she couldn’t fight the urge any longer. “I have a question for you. The day you and Ben came back and found us stuck in the mud and me hanging onto the horses—”
    “You’re wondering why I came back?”
    “Exactly, especially after Pa told you to leave.”
    He took a moment to collect his thoughts. “I could say I felt sorry for your family, and that would be true. When it started to rain, I knew you’d be in trouble, given that your father—”
    “Doesn’t know what he’s doing.”
    “He’s no different than thousands of others.”