Here Comes McBride (Journey's End Book 1) Page 3

  Micah turned onto his stomach and wiggled off the bed. He toddled toward his uncle dragging a well-worn blanket. “Pa?” he asked.

  Lars swung the boy into his arms. “He’ll be here soon, Micah.” He settled the child on his hip and surveyed the two women with solemn eyes. “Sven has two large boxes of carpentry tools. We’re placing these side by side in the wagon but leaving enough space for Ellie to lay between them. We’ll cover them with a tarp, so she is hidden. The mattress for Caroline and Micah will slide in beside the boxes. It will be tight especially after our supplies are placed at the end of the boxes. That way no one will see your feet if the gate is lowered.” He shook his head. “Ellie, I’m sorry. It’s not going to be comfortable, and it will be hot. But you need to lie still and quiet.”

  “I understand,” Ellie replied.

  “All right. When we are days away from here, Ellie can lift the tarp.”

  “Days?” She gulped.

  “If Simon is as relentless as you say, we have to err on the side of caution. So, yes, days.” Lars’ voice was steely stern. “We’ve purchased two horses to pull the wagon today. Once we’ve taken the ferry to Oakland we can buy oxen. Sven and I will use the horses to ride, hunt and make any necessary side trips. Oxen are slow but better suited to pull a heavy wagon.”

  “Oh.” Caroline’s voice was a wobbling whine. “I don’t want to have this baby in a wagon.” A single tear slid down her freckled cheek.

  Lars draped a comforting arm around her shoulders. “Sven knows that. He’s determined it won’t happen that way. He’ll do his best.”

  Wiping the tear away, Caroline produced a shaky smile. “I know.”

  “Listen, if I’m slowing you down. If the pace is my fault…” Ellie began.

  “No, it’s not. We always planned to use oxen. We didn’t know we’d have a stowaway aboard, a welcomed one.” Lars handed Micah to his mother. “Ellie, put on one of Caroline’s bonnets or tie a scarf around your hair. Pretty as it is, it’s like a beacon.”

  Lars made a conscious effort not to reach out and touch those tempting tresses. He wanted to run his hand down that thick curtain of hair that hung down her back. A man could get lost in that red river and never be found. He was aching for the chance. Imagining how those locks would feel under his hand, wrapped around his fist or spread out on his pillow had him half-hard. He’d better get about his business before he embarrassed himself.

  “I better go help Sven. I’ll take Loki. He needs to get outside.” Lars snapped his fingers and pointed at the floor by his foot. “Come, Loki.” The big dog, tail wagging, joined the big man. “We’ll bring some food when we come back with the wagon, but I brought a few crackers for Micah.”

  He pulled Micah’s favorite snack from the pocket of his shirt. A little fist reached out and grabbed them.

  “What do you say, Micah?” Caroline chanted the age-old question.

  “Tank yous, Uncie Lar,” he mumbled around a cracker stuffed mouth.

  “You’re welcome, little man.” He ruffled the boy’s hair. “We’ll be back soon. Stay in the room. Lock the door.”

  Lars pulled the door closed and waited for the click of the lock. When he was certain the women were safe, he took the stairs to the street two at a time.

  Sven waited in front of the Mercantile, reins dangling loosely from his hands. “Hey, Lars,” he called.

  Lars ambled to the wagon. He looked into the bed of the wagon and nodded. “Looks good. I’ll go get our order.” He snapped his fingers and pointed. “In the wagon, Loki.” After the big dog jumped into the wagon, turned three times in a circle and settled, Lars ruffled his fur. “Good boy.”

  “Don’t look, but those two men standing to the right of the door have been asking about a red-headed young woman. Claim she ran away and her father is desperate to find her.” Sven did not raise or lower his voice. He might just as well have commented on the weather.

  Lars eyes flew to his brother’s face. “I guess Ellie was right. That no-good Simon aims to pursue her.” He slapped the side of his legs with his hat. “I’ll start loading our supplies.” He climbed the stairs and crossed to the entrance.

  “Hey, mister,” one of the men called, “you seen a young red-headed gal about? She’s a runaway. Her pa is worried sick.” He waited for Lars’ reply.

  “No, can’t say as I have. Me and my brother are just passing through.” He moved past them and into the store returning with bags slung over both shoulders. He dumped them on top of the mattress. Once Ellie was hidden, he’d move them to hide her feet.

  “Mister,” the searcher called as Lars strode past them a second time, “this little gal we’re looking for is a pretty piece. Her hair is as red as red can get. You’ll know if you see her.” He looked around and lowered his voice. “If you spot her, send word to the Prescott Hotel. There’s a reward. Fifty dollars. We don’t want that to get too widespread. Afraid every redhead within a day’s ride will be knocking on Mr. Prescott’s door. Seeing as how you’re traveling on, you might spot her on the road. If you do, bring her back or send word and hold onto her, and you’ll be a good deal richer.”

  “I’ll keep my eyes open,” Lars stated. “Now I need to finish loading our supplies. Daylight’s burning.”

  “Just one more load, Sven,” Lars said. “I believe I’ll buy some ammunition. We might need it if we plan to hunt our own meat on the way.” He tipped his head slightly toward the two men who asked every person entering the store if they had seen Ellie. He hustled back into the store. His stomach burned at the idea of his Ellie–his Ellie–falling into the clutches of a pervert like Simon Prescott. Why, he’d shoot any man who meant her harm. A wave of heat, half possession, half lust, swept him from head to toe and toe to head. She was his. He knew this with the same certainty he knew his name. He swung into the seat next to his brother. She might not know it yet, but she was his wife-to-be, his bride. His McBride. He laughed.

  If he were honest with himself, and he tried to be, he’d known as soon as that braid fell out of her cap. He’d known when he spanked that bottom too round and too soft to belong to a boy. A woman with hair that red was bound to be a hellion, and he’d get her over his knee for another spanking. This time he thought he’d bare her. He adjusted his pants. He hoped to claim her soon. He ached with the need.

  “You got it bad for that girl, brother?” Sven laughed as Lars resettled on the bench.

  “I do for a fact. I aim to marry her and raise a passel of red-headed children,” Lars declared.

  “Does she know?”

  “Not yet, but I aim to tell her.”

  “Just a little advice. You go at life mighty hard, and it’s led you into a peck of trouble in the past. You might want to go at this a little slower. Women like to be wooed not corralled like a bronc headed for a branding iron.” Sven gave the reins a gentle snap and the wagon rolled.

  Lars scrunched his forehead and stared at the town as it passed by. Sven was right. He’d acted first and thought second all his life. His brother did just the reverse, and look at him. He had a wife, a fine son, another child on the way.

  “I’ll try,” he acquiesced, but, in the back of his mind, an idea wriggled. Much as that girl stomped and stormed, he believed she needed, craved, a strong hand. Well, he had that hand, and it could protect as well as punish.

  Sven pulled the wagon to a stop in front of the hotel and set the brake. “I settled the bill already. It’s best not to leave the wagon unattended. I’ll wait here with Loki. You go fetch the family.”

  Lars grinned fit to break his jaw. “Fetch the family.” That sounded right nice. His brother already saw the way of things. He grabbed a loaf of bread from their bundle of supplies. “I expect those girls are half-starved,” he said.

  “Hey, give me a piece of that. I’m half-starved myself.” Sven’s outstretched hand told the story.

  Lars tore a large hunk from the loaf and handed it over. “Share with Loki.” He laughed at Loki as he stared
unblinking at the food in Sven’s hand.

  He hurried up the stairs and knocked. “It’s me, ladies,” he called.

  Ellie threw the door open wide.

  Lars glared. “Don’t you have any sense, Ellie girl? What if I was Simon or one of his cohorts?” he fumed.

  “But you said, ‘it’s me’.” She defended herself hands on hips, eyes shooting sparks.

  “Next time be sure. Open the door a sliver and check. There are a lot of ‘mes’ in this world. Simon’s men are looking for you. We saw them at the Mercantile asking questions, and there’s a fifty-dollar reward.”

  “Fifty dollars?” Her voice and her eyebrows rose. “That’s a fortune.”

  “Well, not a fortune, but enough to tempt a man into trying to win it. We have to be extra careful. You do something like that again, and I’ll paddle you for sure,” Lars peered down at the misbehaving miss.

  “You will not. You’re never doing that again. Do you hear me?” She spoke through clenched teeth.

  “I hear you, Ellie girl, but you shouldn’t fool yourself. You need spanked, and I’ll be the one to do it.” Lars remembered Sven’s advice. “Let’s not fuss. No harm done. Just be more careful.” He placed a friendly hand on her shoulder. “I brought some bread. It’s fresh baked and smells mighty fine. Let’s eat.” He tore off chunks of bread and handed one to Caroline and one to Micah. Ellie looked at hers with suppressed fury but let Lars set it in her hand.

  When the loaf was demolished, he surveyed the room. “Cover your hair, Ellie,” he demanded and watched until she’d pulled a large bonnet over her flaming hair, tied the strings and tucked any stray evidence into her hat. “I’ll go first and carry Caroline’s trunk. You come behind me, Ellie. After I’ve checked to be sure no one is watching, we’ll hide you. Then I’ll come back to help Caroline and Micah.”

  Lars set the trunk in the wagon and leaned against the wagon, looking left, right, across the street and back again.

  He returned to the door of the hotel and grabbed Ellie’s hand pulling her to the end of the wagon. “There.” He pointed at the little space. “Wiggle in between those boxes. Hurry.” When Ellie was lodged in place, he arranged the tarp. “I’m leaving a little opening so you’ll have fresh air and putting a chamber pot down by your feet.”

  “Chamber pot,” she screeched. “I can barely move. How am I supposed to use a chamber pot? You’ll have to let me out when I need to go.”

  “We can’t let you out until we’re on the other side of Sacramento, and it’s dark. I don’t expect you’d like to wear a diaper, so I hope you can figure out a way.” Sven’s advice swam to the front of his mind again. He’d better sweeten the deal. “I’m sorry, Ellie girl, I truly am. Simon will have men at the ferry on both sides. We can’t take any chances.”

  Ellie scowled at him but nodded her head.

  “I’m pulling the tarp shut now. No talking,” he warned.

  Once Caroline and Micah settled on the mattress, Lars closed the back and joined Sven on the seat. Sweat rolled down his forehead and landed in his eyes. He wiped it away with the sleeve of his shirt. If they were going to run into trouble, the ferry would be the likely spot.

  Sven pulled the wagon in line. Both men kept faces turned to the front. Loki, Caroline. and Micah sat quiet in the back.

  “Howdy, mister.” A small man with a baldhead and a round stomach approached them. “That’ll be twenty-five cents to cross over to Oakland.” He waited while Sven reached into his pocket for the change. “Say, you haven’t seen a red-haired gal, have you? Those men are looking for her. If you do see one, best tell her to hide. Those fellas are mean through and through. I wouldn’t want my daughter to get caught by the likes of them.”

  “No, sorry, we haven’t seen her, but if we do, we’ll pass on your advice,” Sven said as he handed over his coins.

  Lars felt his heart unclench. There were good people, kind people, folks like Sven in the world. He’d been involved with the wrong sort for so long, he’d forgotten.

  Sven drove the wagon onto the ferry and set the brake. He leapt from the seat and helped Caroline and Micah from the back. “I’m taking Micah to see the paddle wheel turn. He’ll get a mighty big kick out of it.”

  “I’ll watch the wagon. You go on ahead,” Lars replied.

  When his brother’s family was out of sight, Lars leaned down and pretended to get a pebble out of his boot. “You all right, Ellie girl?” he asked.

  “Yes, thank you for helping me,” she replied.

  “There isn’t much I wouldn’t do for you,” Lars said before returning to his full height. “Or to you,” he mumbled. He leaned against the wagon and let his mind roll to the time when he could swim in the sea of her red hair.

  Chapter 4

  Anxiety had riddled her stomach like a swarm of bees when they’d pulled the wagon onto the ferry. She’d lain quiet and listened to footsteps and voices of the other passengers. Lars hadn’t spoken to her, but she’d felt him nearby watching and keeping her safe.

  Her heart hummed. That man made her pulse pound and her knees weak, but he also enveloped her in peace. For the first time since her mother died, someone worried about her, cared for her. She belonged to… she paused. Did she belong to Lars? The heat in those transparent blue eyes spoke of possession. Well, she supposed that would work itself out one way or the other. She’d need to give it a serious think.

  He’d been right about one thing. Riding wedged between the two boxes was hot and uncomfortable. She sighed and shifted to relieve the weight resting on her right hip.

  Eight days. She’d been crammed into this hot place for eight days.

  “We’ll pull over for dinner in half an hour or so,” Lars spoke louder than truly necessary. She knew he wanted her to hear and understand she would soon get a respite from the incessant rocking of the wagon.

  Lars rode beside the wagon with Micah perched in front of him. He and Sven took turns riding and driving. Since Caroline needed to rest, Micah either rode the horse or shared the seat of the wagon with one of the men. She didn’t suppose Caroline was much more comfortable than she was, laying on the mattress as the wagon swayed and bumped. Caroline did have fresh air and more freedom of movement. It must be heaven to change position or stretch your arms over your head.

  When they stopped for the night, and they were assured of privacy, Lars let down the back of the wagon and helped her wriggle free. Her limbs were always numb after hours in the cramped space. He’d stand close by until her legs would hold her. Then she’d hurry off to find privacy and relieve herself.

  She hated that chamber pot, plain and simple, hated it and tried not to use it. When she did, she had to struggle until her knees folded under her body, and she could slip the container between her thighs. Sometimes it spilled, and she would have to mop up the mess after they stopped. Everything about that pot humiliated her. After eight days in her hiding place her irritation at the thing morphed into burning hatred.

  They’d passed through Sacramento yesterday and camped next to the river. Now the wagon rolled the morning away allowing her to doze. She returned to consciousness with a snap. They were stopping. Ellie listened intently to the conversation taking place between Sven and Caroline.

  “How are you sweetheart?” Sven asked.

  “I’m all right. Tired, is all,” Caroline replied. “Where are we?”

  “At a little trading post. We’re going to buy a few supplies. Lars took Micah over to the river. He’s going to let him play for a bit, cool off, clean him up.”

  “Bless his heart.” Caroline’s little prayer was sincere.

  “He’s trying.”

  “I know, and I appreciate it,’ Caroline said on a sigh.

  “Let me help you from the wagon. There’s an outhouse around the back. I thought you’d like to use it.” She heard Sven’s boots move to the end of the wagon and felt the vibration as the back was lowered. Some grunting and groaning ensued as Caroline heaved her awkward body f
rom the wagon. Their voices faded as they walked away.

  Ellie’s mind was a whirl of conflicting advice. An outhouse. It called to her. Shouted her name. She knew she shouldn’t do it. Sven and Lars had been more than clear. She was to stay in the wagon and be quiet until they were certain they weren’t observed. But when, she wondered, would that be? Since the men asking about her at the ferry, they’d not been approached again. They were overly cautious. What was the harm?

  Anyway, Lars was at the river, and Sven was buying supplies. She could slip out, use the outhouse and be back in her confinement before anyone knew better. She kicked at the bags at her feet and like a demented earthworm wriggled her way free. Ellie dashed around the building and hid behind a tree. When Caroline emerged, she entered the outbuilding and pulled the door closed. What blessed relief. What heavenly privacy.

  Finished with her business, she strolled back to the wagon. Halfway into her cocoon she felt a large hand resting on her bottom.

  “Where have you been, Ellie girl?” Lars voice was steely low. He set Micah on the mattress and motioned for Loki to join him there.

  “It’s been eight days,” she whined. “I used the outhouse.” Her confession was met with an icy stare. “Please, Lars, I’m so tired of being stuffed between these boxes.”

  Sven and Caroline joined them.

  “What happened?” Sven asked.

  “Miss Ellie took it upon herself to leave her hiding spot and use the outhouse,” Lars explained. He surveyed the front of the trading post. Some people milled about in front, but they didn’t seem to be paying any mind to them.

  “Wiggle back in there, Ellie. I’ll deal with your disobedience later.” Lars gave her bottom a hefty swat.

  Ellie moved as quickly as possible into her hiding spot. The sooner her bottom was out of range of Lars’ big hand the better.

  The wagon dipped as Caroline clambered aboard. Sven took his place on the wagon’s seat and settled Micah between his legs. Lars soothed his horse with words spoken quiet and low as he swung into the saddle. Loki barked, and they were once again rocking and rolling down the Siskiyou trail.