Tori sat by the campfire hugging her cup of coffee, the low buzz of conversation all around her. Excitement for tomorrow’s run sizzled in the air. She yawned and stretched, balancing the almost empty cup in her hand. She doubted she would get much sleep tonight. Rachel, Ellie, and Hunter had gone to bed a while ago, making do with blankets on the damp ground since the wagon still perched on a tree stump. They would probably all have pneumonia before they could even start the run.

  Michael rolled the wheel over to the wagon, and leaned it against the stump. Shoulders drooping, he walked over and hunkered down next to her.

  “Sorry, I couldn’t find anyone to fix the wheel.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Every blacksmith in Arkansas City is overloaded with work, and those who were willing to do it wanted too much money.”

  “Oh, no,” she said, pushing her spectacles back up the bridge of her nose. “What will we do now?”

  Michael shrugged, and a long, thoughtful silence followed as they both stared into the fire.

  “I wonder if taking the wagon on the run is a good idea.” Sparks flew in the chilled night air as she poked at the embers.

  “I didn’t want to tell you, but that’s pretty much what I heard all afternoon while I tried to get the wheel fixed.” He stretched his arms out to warm his hands. “There are plenty of wagons making the run, most of them for farmland, but it’s not the fastest way to go, and they’re in much better shape than this one, even before the wheel broke.”

  “What if I made the run myself on one of the horses?” She glanced sideways at him.

  Michael stared at her, grim-faced. “No. I mean, it sounds like a good idea, but I’ll do it.” He poured the last of the coffee in his cup. “A woman shouldn’t be racing with a bunch of men for a piece of land.”

  His words rattled, a boy telling her what women should and shouldn’t do. “There’s no reason why I can’t make the run.” She set her coffee on the rock next to her and crossed her arms over her chest. “I can ride and shoot as well as any man.”

  Michael’s head jerked at her harsh words. “I’m hoping there won’t be any shooting going on, and I know you can ride as well as any man. But it’s not proper for a woman to be racing around with a bunch of men, her skirts flying after her.”

  “Michael Henderson, I don’t need my sixteen-year-old nephew telling me what is and isn’t proper behavior. If I decide to do the run myself, then I will do it myself.” She clamped her lips in a firm line.

  Michael shrugged his shoulders, avoiding her gaze. “Is there anything left to eat?”

  She sighed. It wouldn’t do to take her general disgust with men out on her nephew. “I saved you a plate of beans and some bread. I’ll get it for you. Go ahead and wash up.”

  While Michael readied for supper, and made his disapproval known by eating in silence, different ideas kept running through her mind. Finally she snapped her fingers. “I know what I’ll do. I’ll disguise myself as a man.”

  He stared at her as if she was crazy. “Do you think you can do that?” He spoke around a mouthful of beans.

  “Sure I can. I’ll borrow some of your clothes, and put my hair up. With a hat over it, no one will know.” She warmed to the idea. She could do this.

  “Ah, Tori.” He cleared his throat. “What about, your ah, you know?” He waved in the general direction of his chest.

  She smiled. “I’ll have Rachel help bind me.”

  Flames from the fire highlighted the deep red flush on his cheeks before he sprang to his feet. “I’m turning in now. See you in the morning.”

  Tori sat before the fire long after Michael left to sleep. Despite her bravado, her confidence in the entire plan waned. What the devil had possessed her to move them all here to the middle of nowhere, with a broken wagon, and a crazy idea of racing like a lunatic to get a piece of land? Maybe her wise-beyond-his-years nephew knew best, and she shouldn’t compete against a bunch of men. Uncertainties raced around her mind like a fox on the run. Hours passed before she was able to sleep.

  Not refreshed after a long night of tossing and turning, Tori scooped water from the barrel into the coffee pot. In the dimness of dawn, the four children readied themselves for the day. As Michael worked around the wagon, he continued to cast disapproving glances in her direction.

  Hunter yawned and ambled over to the fire to spoon oatmeal into his bowl. “Tori, how are we going to do the land run with a broken wagon wheel?”

  “We’ll talk about that when we’re all settled for breakfast.”

  Doubts from the night before resurfaced in full force as the children ate. Her stomach rolled, and her head hurt with the beginnings of a headache. She took a deep breath and put her bowl aside before she spoke, all in one breath. “Since the wagon isn’t fixed, I’ve decided to do the land run myself on one of the horses.”

  Michael shook his head, and stared into his bowl. He ate in silence while the three other children stared open-mouthed at her.

  Rachel leaned forward, her eyes wide. “How can you do that?”

  “What will happen to us while you’re running?” Ellie asked in her little girl voice.

  “You will all stay here with the wagon. Michael will be in charge. And Rachel, too,” she added quickly when her niece’s eyes narrowed.

  “I’m scared, Tori.” Ellie’s chin trembled.

  “There isn’t anything to be scared of, sweetie.” Tori got up and gave her a hug. “Michael, Rachel, and Hunter will be here with you.”

  “But they’re not grown-ups.” Now Ellie’s voice trembled along with her chin.

  “Well, Michael is almost a grown-up. And Rachel is almost a lady.” Tori bent to tuck the dark blond curl always escaping Ellie’s braids.

  “I can’t believe you’re going to embarrass us all by racing with a bunch of men.” Rachel’s stance reflected defiance.

  “We no longer have a wagon to race with,” Tori snapped. Guilt rushed through her at the hurt reflected in her eldest niece’s eyes. She had to stay calm and reassuring, but keeping peace with Rachel got harder all the time.

  “And we can’t give up now that we’re here. I’m going to wear a set of Michael’s clothes, and put my hair up, so no one will know I’m a woman. I’ll need you to help me with—well, I’ll tell you about that later.” Getting to her feet, she clapped her hands. “All right, let’s clean up from breakfast and start working on your studies. You should be able to get a lot done while I’m gone.”

  An examination of the two horses that had hauled them and their wagon from Kansas didn’t instill a whole lot of faith. Neither of them would make a great racing horse. Chewing on her lower lip, Tori left the horses and walked to the creek to wash before changing into her disguise.

  Annoyance stalled her steps when she saw the man from the woods yesterday washing dishes in the creek. With the hundreds of people getting ready for the race at noon, the only empty space remained next to him. Tori knelt and wet her washcloth, averting his gaze, hoping he wouldn’t notice her.

  “Still here, are you?”

  She clenched her jaw at the sound of his voice. He stood over her, a grin on his face. Now that she saw him without shadows, it irritated her when her heart sped up.

  Lord save me from another handsome face and charming smile.

  “Yes, I’m still here.” Her voice rose. “And I plan to spend tonight camped on my own lot.”

  “Easy honey, I’m not the enemy.” He put his hands up in surrender.

  “Don’t call me honey!”

  “Sorry.” His smile contradicted his apology. “A woman alone dragging a wagon and a passel of kids will most likely spend the night right outside Arkansas City pushing on her horse’s rump.”

  This man had all the nerve in the world. “I will get my lot in town, sir. And I will make a life for myself and my family. Believe it or not, I’ll even do it without a man’s help.” She raised one eyebrow and flicked her fingers at him. “Now I’ll thank you to leave me in peace and mind your own business.” She turned back and mumbled, “And your manners.” She splashed her face with such vigor that water went up her nose, choking her.

  A man kneeling on the other side glanced over and tugged on the brim of his hat. “Ma’am, excuse me for interferin’, but if you’re without a man, don’t try to drag a wagon.” He climbed to his feet, and gathered the laundry he’d washed. “A bunch of trains are leaving today right here in Arkansas City, headed for Indian Territory. They’ll fill up fast, but you’ll have a better chance than you would haulin’ a wagon. Especially if you’re headed for a town lot.”

  “There’s a train going to Indian Territory?” Tori leaned back on her heels and, shading her eyes with her hand, studied the man.

  “Yes, ma’am, The Missouri, Kansas, and Texas Railroad. The first train leaves at eight forty-five this morning. They’ll drop passengers off anywhere along the line, once they cross into Indian Territory.”

  “Don’t bother.”

  She closed her eyes. The annoying stranger’s voice irritated her ears.

  “It’s a stupid and crazy idea. Even if you’re able to get a train ticket, it would be far too dangerous for a woman by herself.”

  “Will you please leave me alone, and go about your own business?” Tori stood and dusted off her dress. She needed to leave this man’s presence and be rid of him.

  With a bright smile, she nodded to the other man. “Thank you so much for the information, sir. I appreciate your help.”

  She turned to glare at the exasperating man, who stood off to the side, grinning. With white-knuckled fingers, she hiked her skirt to reveal dirt-trodden boots. Tori tossed him a raised brow and stalked back to the wagon.

  Thoughts in a whirl, she made plans. If she took the train, it would be safer than racing on a horse alongside a bunch of men like a wild woman. With a determined nod, she rummaged through the wagon to find a set of Michael's clothes. As soon as Rachel appeared, she could get herself bound and ready for a train ride. Her heart pumped with excitement. Going by train would be so much easier!

  Chapter 2

  “Once the race has started, it will be easier and cheaper to get the wagon wheel fixed.” Tori spoke over her shoulder to Michael as she continued to pack her bag.

  “Will you come back then? After the race, I mean.” He stepped closer, and she wanted to hug him. Would he allow that indulgence?

  “No. You and the others will make the trip to Guthrie with the wagon. I’ve talked to a few people, and that’s one of the places expected to be a main town. A railroad station’s been there for a while.” She spotted a jacket, grabbed it, and shoved it into the bag.

  “How are you going to survive until we get there?”

  Now where did she put her extra pair of spectacles? She glanced at Michael. “I’m taking a small tent, bedroll, and food and water for a couple days. I have to stay on the lot we claim to make sure no one else takes it. Once you all arrive, I can go to the Land Office and register it in my name.”

  “This gets worse all the time. Out in the open by yourself in a tent? I don’t like it.” Michael’s face flushed.

  She patted his arm. “I’ll be fine. You’ll be fine. I’m leaving the rifle here with you, just in case.”

  “Just in case.” He frowned. “And what ‘just in case’ weapon will you have?”

  Tori waved a small pistol before shoving it into the belt holding up her pants, wincing when the cold metal hit her warm skin. “Michael, we’ve been over this. I have no choice. The wagon’s still crippled, and we’ve come too far to give up now. Please don’t worry. I’ll look like another one of the men.”

  He widened his stance, hands resting on his hips. “I still think I should make the run and you go with the others.”

  How she loved this boy. “We can’t do it that way. The age requirement is twenty-one, and you’ll never pass. I want everything to be legal, so there’s no question. We can’t afford to take a chance. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She hugged him fiercely, and grabbed her bag.

  “Ouch!” Tori held onto her hat with both hands and snarled at the man who’d crashed into her. The wagon area had been crowded, but nothing compared to the mob pushing and shoving at the train station. From the throng of people packed together, it appeared thousands were taking the train.

  She’d stood for over an hour to get a ticket. Her breasts were so tightly bound, black dots flashed in her eyes, and she had long since given up on taking a deep breath. The bright sun beat down on her unmercifully, and sweat ran down her spine, gathering under her arms. She repeatedly wiped her forehead.

  With the swarm of people crammed together, the resulting stench made her eyes water and her stomach roll. But she didn’t intend to give up her place on the platform. She needed to get on that train for her family.

  The scream of the train whistle finally sounded. Tension filled the air as it got close to boarding time. The restless crowd moved forward. Large doors slid open, and a swell of bodies pushed forward. She was carried along by the crowd. Not one other woman came into view, but there was always the chance other women dressed as men, too.

  After being pushed, shoved, stepped on, and elbowed in the ribs, she finally made it on the train, and once again the crowd carried her forward. She ended up pressed against a window. Unable to take a full breath, the black dots flashed before her eyes again. A sweaty man who reeked of stale tobacco reached over her head and pushed up the window. Fresh air rushed in, cooling her skin and settling her stomach. Still squashed, at least she could breathe; as much as her bindings would allow, anyway. It would be a long trip.

  Men had been leaping off the train ever since they’d crossed into Indian Territory. The train made several stops, but those anxious to get off beforehand simply jumped from their place on the roof.

  The ticket seller in Arkansas City said the train would be going fifteen miles an hour, so as not to give passengers an advantage over the horses and wagons. Even with the low speed, several jumpers were so stunned after landing, they didn’t get up right away. She craned her neck to see if they were okay, but the train continued on before most of them recovered.

  If she had no desire to get close to a man before, this trip convinced her what vile creatures they were. If one more man scratched his privates or lifted his noxious arm in the air, she would scream. No point in fainting, she’d end up slumped against another smelly man. The one towering over her and breathing down her neck reeked of liquor. She kept sticking her head out the window, but soon pulled it back when smoke from the engine made her eyes water.

  From the sun’s position, she assumed it to be about one o’clock in the afternoon when the train reached Guthrie. The mad rush to get off commenced. Shoved backward, Tori’s head smacked the window. Pain shot through her. She shook her head to clear it. Passengers squeezed through the windows and fell to the ground. Still pressed against the glass, she made a quick decision as she glanced around at all the large men. Being smaller, the window might be her best mode of exit.

  She managed to maneuver herself so she faced the opening. One knee up, she twisted her body and inched her other knee to the ledge, swinging both legs over. The drop down was perilous. Not a good idea. Her stomach clenched and she attempted to get back through, but the crush of bodies prevented her. A surge of panic filled her. She couldn’t just sit perched on ledge until the train emptied.

  “Just go, buddy,” someone behind her grumbled, then large palms flattened between her shoulder blades, and pushed. She hurled through the air, arms flaying. She hit the ground with a grunt, breathless. The gun in her belt went off, but the shot missed her leg, and the bullet exited her pants at her bent knee, leaving a smoky hole. It then ricocheted off the train track and sped off into oblivion. With the noise of the crowd, no one took notice.

  Someone stepped on her hand, and a woman dragging a small child turned and mumbled a surprising curse word as she scooted around her. So there are some women here.

  She eased up, marveling at the throng of bodies running in every direction. With a jolt of determination, she hiked her belt tight around her waist, repositioned her gun, and joined the crowd.

  The walk soon changed to a trot as swarms of men coming from the train spread out and raced toward lots. The noise and confusion overwhelmed her as she dodged horses and people. Red dust blew everywhere, clogging her nose and lungs. Her throat was so dry, she couldn’t swallow.

  It took a while to figure out where the lots were. As she scanned the neat rows, tiny flags waved in the small breeze marking each plot. It was curious so many parcels were taken with tents set up, the owners seeming to have been there a while.

  Not discouraged, she ran up and down several rows of occupied spots. In the distance, the whistle of the next arriving train sounded, urging her to speed up. She found an empty lot and, not caring where it lay in relation to the rest of the town, drove her wooden stake into the ground. Then she grabbed the marker rock the surveyors had left. Each rock had been inscribed to let the homesteaders know the size of the lot and its number.

  She collapsed to her knees, then grasped her middle as she bent and fought nausea.

  I did it! Lord have mercy, I actually did it! She wiped the tears from her face and smiled with satisfaction.

  As soon as her breathing steadied, she took a small tent out of the backpack and set it up. Taking large gulps of water, she surveyed the plots around her. Tents and other signs of possessions on various lots gave the area a sense of ordered chaos. She sat on her own claimed land!

  Heated conversations between men shouting they’d claimed a lot first erupted. Her jubilation at getting a lot turned to fear at the idea of someone deciding they could overpower her and take her parcel. Down the row, two men were nose to nose when one of them returned from a trip to the river to find the second man had claimed his lot, even though the first man’s possessions were already there. She patted the gun, securely fastened in her belt. I imagine it’s more difficult to shoot a man than a rabbit, though.

 

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