Wagon Train Sisters. Shirley KennedyЧитать онлайн книгу.
to—” Albert Morehead’s words popped into her head. Lost all their money thanks to that card shark. Goes by the name of Jack McCoy. A scoundrel and ne’er-do-well if ever there was one. “Oh, it’s you!” The words popped out before she could stop them.
He looked puzzled. “Do I know you from some place?”
She so wished she’d kept her mouth shut. “No, but I’ve heard of you.”
“Good or bad?”
She disliked lying and wouldn’t lie now. “Bad. I heard you were a card shark and a scoundrel.”
The faintest glint of humor flickered through his eyes. “So what do you think?”
“I think where there’s smoke there’s fire.” She didn’t care for the way her words came out sounding prim and proper. She’d said them, though. Too late to take them back. “I don’t need an escort, Mr. McCoy. You needn’t bother.”
“No bother, Miss Gregg. Get your horse.”
“It’s Mrs. Gregg. I don’t like gamblers, Mr. McCoy.”
“I’m not going to leave you in the wilderness, Mrs. Gregg. Get your horse.”
The cold firmness in his voice told her he wouldn’t accept no for an answer. Well, she’d ride back with him and his friend if that’s what he wanted. Maybe she should. She didn’t want to be alone while Josiah Peterson was still in the area. “All right, then.”
After she untied Rosie and mounted, she watched as he got on his own horse. How graceful, the way he swung his lean, sinewy body into the saddle. He held a commanding air of self confidence about him, as if he would never hesitate and blunder around like Pa did sometimes. As if she could always count on his strength, and he’d never let her down. Her pulse quickened, ever so slightly, but what was she thinking? She didn’t want a man, especially one like Jack McCoy. Once they got back to camp, she’d have nothing to do with such a scoundrel and he could be on his way.
* * * *
Jack got a fast glimpse of bare leg when the girl got on her horse and her skirt billowed. Women were crazy not to wear pants. At least she wasn’t using one of those nonsensical sidesaddles the ladies doted on. When they started out, she rode ahead as though she didn’t want to talk, and that was fine with him.
Riding beside him, Ben Longren chuckled. “Stuck up little thing, ain’t she? She ought to be more friendly, considering you saved her from the likes of Josiah. That could have been bad, Jack.”
He threw his friend a look of disgust. “You think I care if she talks or not?”
Ben stayed quiet for at least two seconds. “Did you notice how pretty she is?”
“I noticed how stupid she is to be out in the wilderness by herself.”
Ben remained silent. Good. He knew how to keep his mouth shut. His friend was right, though. Yes, he’d noticed how pretty Mrs. Gregg was with her long, auburn hair and warm brown eyes. She was dressed like most women on the trail—faded homespun dress, white apron, and sturdy boots. Those plain clothes couldn’t hide her tall, slim figure, though. Full breasts, tiny waist. Riding behind her, he had a fine view of the pleasant curve of her hips and the easy way she rode without bouncing or slouching, as if she’d spent a lot of time on a horse. If he was looking for a woman…
But, no, he wasn’t looking for a woman. Furthest thing from his mind. He turned to Ben. “After we take her back, we’ll catch up with the rest.”
Ben didn’t answer right away. When he did, a troubled expression rested on his weathered face. “Don’t know as I want anything more to do with those jackasses. Why’d we join up with them in the first place?”
“Don’t you remember? They were hell-bent for California with nothing to slow them down. Had a chuck wagon—”
“Yeah, the grub’s been good, but I don’t much care for that Josiah Peterson. All he wants is to get to California and get his share of the gold. He don’t care who gets in his way.”
“They’re all the same.” Never in his thirty-four years had Jack seen anything resembling the crazed rush for riches that had swept not only the country but the world. Thousands of men were headed for the goldfields to make their fortune, each a fool if he thought he’d get rich. He, too, was a fool, but an eyes-wide-open fool.
* * * *
Sarah’s parents were sitting by their campfire when she and her two companions rode into the meadow. “Any luck?” Pa called.
She wearily shook her head as she dismounted. “No, nothing.” She nodded toward Jack and Ben, who remained on their horses. They’d be riding on, so no need to introduce them. “These gentlemen were kind enough to escort me back. I…just happened to come across them.” Nothing would be gained by telling her parents how that man had attacked her. They had enough to worry about.
Pa looked up at Jack. “Were those your friends who just rode through here?”
“We’re riding with a group of gold seekers. Can’t say we’re friends.”
“Is that so?” Pa eyed him suspiciously. “They were a rowdy bunch, had no manners. I suspect they’re the ne’er-do-wells our wagon master was talking about.”
Ma rose to her feet. Back in Fort Wayne, she was known for her gracious hospitality. Despite her grief, she hadn’t changed. “Won’t you gentlemen stay and have something to eat? In fact, you’re welcome to spend the night by our campfire.”
Oh, no. Sarah didn’t want them to stay. “I’m afraid they’re behind their schedule, Ma. They don’t have time to—”
“Don’t mind if we do!” The old man with the whiskers dismounted and addressed her parents. “The name’s Ben Longren.”
Pa stood and shook his hand. He looked toward the second rider. “And this is?”
“This here’s my friend, Jack McCoy.”
The fleeting raise of Pa’s eyebrows told Sarah he recognized Jack’s name and remembered the wagon master’s warning. But being that Pa was first and foremost a gentleman, Sarah expected he’d be polite.
She was right. Pa managed a tight smile. “We’re having simple fare today, just beans and cured bacon, but you’re welcome to join us.”
They said they would, and soon everyone had filled their plates and were sitting in a circle around the campfire. Sarah heartily wished they’d declined Pa’s invitation and gone on their way, but despite her unease that a notorious gambler was in their midst, she soon became engrossed in the conversation. At first, Ben Longren did most of the talking—all about the Gold Rush and how he and his fellow group of gold seekers could hardly wait till they got to California and staked their claims. Jack McCoy sat silent until Ben flicked a glance at him and remarked, “But not my friend here. You won’t find him with a pick in his hands. He’s got higher ambitions.”
“And what might those be, Mr. McCoy?” Pa asked.
The tall man in the black hat took his time answering. A thoughtful look came over his face. “My friend says I won’t touch a pick. That’s not so. I leave all options open. I have a lot of reasons for making this journey. One’s called manifest destiny.”
“You’re absolutely right!” Pa practically leaped off his chair with delight. “I’m happy to find a person who sees that, Mr. McCoy.”
“Of course I do. This country is bound to grow. Sounds crazy, but I want to be a part of it.”
Soon Sarah sat fascinated as her father and Jack McCoy got into a lively discussion over manifest destiny and the reasons why the United States must spread across the continent to form one nation. From there, the conversation drifted to the reasons half the men in the country were rushing to California. “They want to get out of their