Page 35 of West Wind

Penny sighed, maintaining her melancholy. “Well, if you ever do, I hope you have a girl and not a nasty old boy.”

Annabelle wondered, not for the first time, what it would be like to carry Shelley’s child. It would be wonderful to know she’d always have something of him with her, but it would be scandalous as well. As if her situation wasn’t perilous enough! Fortunately, or unfortunately, she was not pregnant. She’d discovered that fact just days into her journey with the Castletons. To her amazement, she’d cried. Briefly, but so hard she’d given herself a headache that had lasted two days.

“I hope one day I have a little girl just like you.” Her statement drove away Penny’s disgust. The child’s smile was sunny.

“Really?”

“Absolutely.” She leaned back in the grass. “Do you see the horse in that cloud?” She pointed to the heavens above.

Penny lay down beside her, little hands behind her head. She frowned for a moment, then laughed lightly. “There! Now it’s turning into a dog… oh, a man’s face!”

They got lost in their simple game, and Annabelle found herself laughing out loud. The clouds shifted and parted, changing rapidly. Once, for a split second, she was certain she saw Shelley’s face in a cloud, watching over her as he had since they’d met. Until now.

In two weeks of travel they’d passed close to several small settlements, but they never stopped. The three families and Annabelle had all they needed. In the towns there would be temptations to spend money they didn’t have. And wanted posters. She was afraid of finding her likeness everywhere, of coming across more newspapers and false accusations. Each time the wagons rolled past yet another small town, her heart started beating faster and faster until it was racing, and in her mind she saw the rising dust of approaching riders who would point a finger at her and shout to the world that she was a wanted woman. A cold-blooded murderess.

But that never happened, and her heartbeat returned to normal as they left each settlement behind them.

She was also relieved that Jim Butler no longer spoke to her, so her days and nights were more comfortable. He’d limped slightly for a week after their late-night encounter, telling everyone that he’d tripped over a rock and broken a toe. Even though he ignored her, she was afraid to sleep in the open. Butler continued to look at her with a frightening mixture of hate and desire. The threat of the derringer Shelley had given her kept him at bay.

If only the dreams would stop. Some nights she couldn’t remember what woke her in a cold sweat, the blood pounding through her veins like icy water. Other times she wasn’t so lucky. Parts of the dream were hazy, undecipherable, but sometimes she saw Henri’s body as if it were real, blood covering his fine linen shirt, his face still and white. Dead. That image stayed with her long after she’d awakened, it refused to be driven from her mind’s eye. Poor Henri.

Fortunately, her nightmares didn’t disturb the children, even when she tossed and turned and woke with tears in her eyes. They rested soundly, lost in the sweet dreams of innocence.

She sometimes felt as if she might as well be crawling to San Francisco on her hands and knees, their progress was so slow. She enjoyed her evening talks with Suzanne. They discussed children, Suzanne’s and little ones in general; the country they traversed, harsh and beautiful; the luxuries they missed the most. Pretty dresses, fancy hats, scented bath oils. Unfortunately, there hadn’t been a chance to use the small tub Annabelle had seen on her first night with the party. There had been no rain, and the streams they passed were shallow and muddy, sufficient for the animals but unsuitable for bathing, with or without the tub.

It surprised her that Suzanne never asked any personal questions. Not that she minded not having to lie. Suzanne never even asked about Shelley, or the tears Annabelle had shed that night when he’d ridden away. But then, Suzanne also offered no information about her own personal life before the journey had begun. It was a given that they were all looking forward, not back.

When they did at last camp by a clear stream that ran deep and rushed gently over smooth rocks, everyone was ecstatic. Especially the women. Annabelle didn’t have to wonder for long how such a large party handled bathing. Suzanne grabbed a handful of towels, shouted “Women first,” and every female in the camp except Annabelle ran for the creek while the men thoughtfully gathered on the other side of a covered wagon, allowing them their privacy.

She didn’t hesitate long before rushing after the others.

Suzanne merrily removed her dress, and before long all the women, Penny included, had stripped to their underwear and splashed cheerily in the water. Annabelle left her britches and shirt and red boots on the bank, and waded in. The cool water washed over her legs; she bent over to fill her hands with water and splash her dusty face. She waded farther into the stream and immersed herself slowly. There had never been a hot, scented bath that refreshed her as much or felt as good as the creek water washing over her body. She stood, the water coming barely to her waist, and unbraided her hair.

Suzanne passed her a bar of soap, tossing it through the air. Annabelle had to leap to catch it, laughing at her newfound ability. She soaped her hair and rinsed it clean. She lathered every inch of her body, over and around her underthings, until she finally felt clean for the first time in weeks.

She joined Suzanne and Judith Butler on the bank where they sat in the sun to dry, watching Penny and the young newlywed Elizabeth as they splashed and swam.

Annabelle leaned back on her elbows. “This is heavenly.”

Suzanne purred like a kitten. “Isn’t it, though?”

Judith sat rigidly, a slight frown on her face, staring at the water.

“What’s wrong, Judith?” Suzanne placed a comforting hand on Jim Butler’s wife’s back, and the woman tensed.

Judith turned to look at Annabelle. She had a thin face and pale reddish hair that might’ve been strawberry-blonde at one time but was mixed with premature gray. “I love my husband.”

The unexpected declaration surprised them both, a little; it was Annabelle who found her voice first. “That’s as it should be, Mrs. Butler.”

The expression on Judith’s face was sad, just short of desperate. “I know he looks at you when he thinks I’m not watching.”

“Annie’s a beautiful girl. I’m sure all the men have given her the once-over, even my Charles,” Suzanne said.

Judith ignored Suzanne. “I know women find Jim attractive. He’s a handsome man. Sometimes I worry that he’ll find a younger, prettier woman and leave me behind.”

The distraught woman was so intent on her fears that she didn’t catch the quick glance that passed between Suzanne and Annabelle. Jim Butler? Attractive? Annabelle found the man oily and repulsive, but she couldn’t tell his wife that.

Instead, she placed her hand on Judith’s knee. “Perhaps I should tell you two a secret. She had the women’s full attention. “I am hopelessly in love with another man. It’s impossible. He hates me, or at least he doesn’t like me very much, but I can’t seem to stop loving him. Even if your husband was paying me improper attentions, which he isn’t, you wouldn’t have anything to fear from me. No other man interests me but...”