The Complete Oregon Series, page 28
“It means something to you,” Nora said. “You sometimes call out for a Nate in your sleep. Is he a friend of yours?”
For a few moments, Luke considered not answering. She had never told anyone about Nate. But Nora had earned her trust. She couldn’t tell her the most basic truth about herself, her biggest secret, but she could tell her this. “He was my friend, yes. We fought together in Mexico. He didn’t make it home.” Nate’s whole life, reduced to three short sentences.
“I’m sorry. If he was a good man and a good friend, then it would be a good name for the baby, wouldn’t it?” Nora gently touched her sleeve.
Luke wrestled with herself. She closed her eyes, then exhaled. “Yes,” she said.
“All right.” Nora looked down at her belly with a smile. “Did you hear that? Your name’s gonna be Nate or Nattie.”
Amy began to murmur and sigh in her sleep. She tossed and turned, throwing off the blanket in the process.
Luke, sitting closer to the girl than Nora, reached out to tuck the blanket back around Amy. “Nora?” she said with a frown. “Have a look at Amy. She’s not always this hot when she sleeps, is she?”
The letter was forgotten as Nora rose to check on her daughter. She laid a hand on Amy’s forehead. Her eyes widened. “She’s burning up with fever. Her shirt is soaked through.”
Hot and cold waves raced through Luke’s body. She didn’t know how to deal with a sick child. “What should we do?” She looked down at Amy’s flushed face.
Amy struggled against the blanket as a cough racked her small body.
For a moment, the same panic that Luke felt glimmered in Nora’s eyes, then she straightened her shoulders. “Let’s try to give her some tea and a little onion syrup.”
“Tea. All right.” After wrapping an improvised bandage around her hand, Luke scrambled to her feet, grabbed a pot, and rushed from the tent.
The camp lay in silence. Bill Larson and some of his friends were still sitting in Fort Hall’s small saloon, and most other emigrants were already asleep in their tents and wagons. Luke had never missed Bernice Garfield as much as at this moment.
She hurried down to the Snake River and dragged a pot of water back to the camp. Without a comment, she hung the pot over the fire that the guard had already burning.
“What are you doing?” At the sound of the guard’s voice, Luke realized it was Brody Cowen.
“I need hot water. Amy’s sick.” Luke didn’t have the patience to deal with him now. God help him if he tries to stop me now.
But Brody settled back down. He made no move to help Luke, but he also didn’t try to stop her.
With the hot water, Luke rushed back to the tent.
Nora was still kneeling next to Amy. She had changed her into a dry sleep shirt and covered her with an extra blanket.
“Here’s the hot water,” Luke said, lowering her voice to an almost whisper. “What kind of tea do you want? Sassafras?”
“Yeah. But I need some sugar to sweeten it—she won’t drink it otherwise.”
Luke didn’t hesitate. Once again, she raced to their wagon and returned with some sugar. She poured a generous spoonful into the cup that Nora held out in her direction.
Nora settled Amy on her lap and pulled her against her chest to raise her up a bit. She blew across the tea’s surface before she patiently poured it into Amy’s mouth.
Hours went by with preparing tea, changing cold compresses, and trying to get Amy to swallow some of the onion syrup. When the sun came up, Amy fell into a restless sleep.
Nora looked up at Luke with red-rimmed eyes. “She can’t travel like this. It would be her death.”
Luke gazed through the half-open flap to the mountains in the distance. The snow-capped peaks reminded her of the need to continue their journey as quickly as possible. If they lost too much time now, they would find themselves still on the trail when the first snow fell.
“Maybe I can stay in Fort Hall until Amy is better,” Nora said when she didn’t answer. “I could try to get some work in the saloon or—”
“No,” Luke said. “You’ll never have to work in a saloon or a brothel again. I promised you that when I married you, and I still mean it. We’ll both stay here with Amy until she’s well enough to travel.”
Nora blinked. Tears trembled on her eyelashes. “But the wagon train… The others won’t wait for us, will they?”
“No, probably not. But maybe we can join another train in a few days. Amy’s health is all that matters now.” Luke rose to tell the captain about her decision.
Fort Hall,
August 5th, 1851
Nora cried uncontrollably. Her whole body shook with her sobs. “God, I never thought—”
“Don’t cry. I thought you’d be happy to see me again.” Bernice used the edge of her apron to wipe away Nora’s tears.
Nora laughed through her tears. “I am happy. It’s just… I thought I would never see you again, and then Amy got so sick, and we had to stay behind when the others left.” She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself.
The other emigrants had left Fort Hall almost a week ago, leaving behind only the three Hamiltons and the Larsons. Bill had been too hungover to travel. To Nora’s discomfort, Brody Cowen had decided to also stay behind. Just when she had thought that she would be forced to continue the journey in the company of only two men she hated, their old friends who had chosen the longer route via Fort Bridger had arrived at Fort Hall.
“The little darling is all right now, isn’t she?” Bernice asked with almost grandmotherly concern.
Nora turned to look at Amy, who was resting next to the fire, cuddled up in Luke’s protective arms. “Yeah, she’s fine now.” She closed her eyes and sent a silent prayer of thanks to heaven.
“Has Luke been sick too?” Bernice asked.
Nora’s gaze wandered from Amy to Luke. He’d lost some weight in the last few days, and the dark circles under his eyes told of many sleepless nights spent sitting next to Amy’s bedroll. Luke had tried to keep his emotions hidden behind a mask, but Nora knew him well enough by now to see through this act quite easily. She knew he had been as worried about Amy as she had been. “It was a hard week for all of us,” she said.
Jacob rose from his place by the fire and held up his cup of coffee in a silent toast. “We’ve just taken a vote,” he said. “Luke, you were elected captain of our small wagon train.”
“What?” Luke raised one hand in a gesture of protest. “I didn’t even run for captain.”
Jacob laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “Congratulations.”
Luke’s shoulders slumped. “I really don’t know about this.” His gaze searched out Nora’s.
“You’d make a wonderful captain,” Nora said. “The men trust you to make the right decisions.” She did too.
Luke tapped his fist against his lips. “All right.” He straightened his shoulders. “I’ll lead this wagon train to Oregon, if it’s the last thing I’ll do.”
American Falls,
August 8th, 1851
Slowly, Nora made her way through three-foot-high sagebrush and over razor-sharp rocks, careful not to stumble in the darkness and lose her balance with her growing belly. At a grouping of black lava rocks, she stopped and sat down with a relieved sigh. Lately, she often found herself a little short of breath, and she knew it would only get worse in the last months of her pregnancy.
She peered down the cliffs. The water of the Snake River battered the jagged walls of the lava gorge below.
Luke had led the exhausted oxen down a precipitous path to the river earlier tonight. Nora knew that she couldn’t have done it. The day’s travel over the worst road since leaving Independence had worn her out. The steep trail led over sharp rocks that cut the oxen’s feet. Choking dust and clouds of mosquitoes hung in the air. Not long after noon, oxen began to collapse in front of the wagons. Amy had been inconsolable when they had to leave “Red Rose,” one of their oxen, behind.
Now, after stopping for the night, when she would have been able to rest, Nora couldn’t. A rhythmic twitching in her belly kept her awake. She smoothed her palm over her belly, hoping the baby’s hiccups would stop. She sat and listened to the sounds of the night.
The American Falls roared not far from their camp. Then another sound drowned out the peaceful rumbling of the water. An angry shout, the sound of flesh hitting flesh, and then stifled whimpers. Nora knew only too well where the sounds were coming from. Emmy. He’s beatin’ up on her again. Her jaw began to hurt as she clenched her teeth.
Instead of calming down after a while, as Bill Larson usually did, the sounds from the Larsons’ wagon didn’t stop; they became even louder. There was a loud snap, as if something heavy had been shoved against the wagon’s boards, then a cry of pain.
Nora took a deep breath. She had listened to Emmy’s muffled crying more than a dozen times during their journey. As much as she wanted to, she had never intervened, because she always thought she didn’t have the right—or the means—to do it. She didn’t know why or how, but that opinion had slowly changed over the last months. She no longer believed that their marriage certificate gave Bill Larson the right to terrorize his wife. It’s Luke. He set new standards for me. He treats me like a person, not a possession, a slave to order around, or a whore to satisfy his needs.
She touched the small revolver in her apron pocket, reassured by the feel of cold metal against her fingertips. With a pounding heart and wobbly knees, she made her way toward the Larsons’ wagon.
“Hello, luscious,” a voice from the darkness stopped her. “What are you doing out here, all on your own? Been waiting for me?” Brody Cowen stepped out from behind a wagon.
Nora froze. “N-no. I’m just h-heading back to my tent…to Luke. He’s waiting up for me.”
Brody smirked. “I bet he doesn’t even know you’re gone.”
He didn’t. He’d been asleep when Nora slipped from the tent. Her glance darted left and right. Quickly, she tried to step around Brody and escape into the darkness.
Brody’s brawny arms closed around her like iron shackles. He pulled her back against his heaving chest.
Nora shivered and started to struggle when she felt his lips on her neck. “Let go of me.” She tried to use the tricks Luke had taught her, but Brody only grunted when she kicked his shin. He didn’t loosen his hold on her. “I’ll call for help.”
“Ha! So everyone can learn about your sordid past?” Laughter shook his body.
Nora used the opportunity to get one arm free. She elbowed him in the ribs. When his grip on her loosened, she whirled around. Her fingers dived into her apron pocket and came up holding the revolver. The barrel shook when she pointed it at Brody.
“Nice toy.” Brody grinned down at her. “Do you even know how to use it?”
Nora had to swallow before she could speak. “I do.”
“And do you also know what it’s like to shoot a man? To stand right in front of him and pull the trigger? There’s gonna be a lot of blood, and it’ll all be on your hands. Think you can do that, huh? Can you look into his eyes while he’s dying, knowing you’re responsible for it?” His hand shot out and grabbed the revolver, pulling it from Nora’s grip. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Now, where were we?”
“Emeline? Is that you?” Bernice’s voice sounded from just a few yards away. “I heard someone cry out and—”
Both Nora and Brody froze. He grabbed her hair and roughly pulled her head back until she had to look into his cruel eyes. “You better keep quiet about this, or I’ll make sure you regret it.”
She stumbled when he let go of her.
“Nora?” Bernice had reached them now. “Did you hear…? What happened to you?” She smoothed a motherly hand over Nora’s tangled hair, then fixed a suspicious gaze on Brody. “What are you doing here, all alone with a young woman who is not your wife, Mister Cowen?”
The protective tone of her voice was a balm to Nora’s soul. No one had ever taken a stand for her. No one but Luke. It felt good to see a woman have the courage to stand up to a man.
Brody flashed a grin. “Just showing our mutual friend here how to defend herself, Mrs. Garfield.” He pressed the small revolver into Nora’s hand.
“Nora?” Bernice turned toward Nora. “Was he bothering you?”
Nora slid the revolver into her apron pocket and held her breath. Now she had to make a decision about the way she would live her life. Since marrying Luke and setting out for Oregon, she hadn’t really had to make any decisions. The captain, Luke, and the other men decided which road they would take, when to stop for their noon break, and where to camp. She had limited herself to what she did best—making sure that she and her daughter would survive. The easiest thing to ensure survival would be to keep quiet and suffer in silence until she reached Oregon and Brody would be gone from her life.
But now other things were important to her. Merely surviving wouldn’t be enough any longer, not when it meant sacrificing her dignity. If she ever wanted to leave her former life as a prostitute behind, she would have to stop men like Brody Cowen from treating her like one. “Yes,” she whispered.
“Yes?” Bernice tilted her head as if she wasn’t sure if she had understood correctly.
“Yes, he was bothering me,” Nora said a little more loudly.
Bernice put her hands on her ample hips. “I think you better leave, Mister Cowen, before I decide to wake up my husband—and hers.” She pointed at Nora.
Brody smirked. “Oh, don’t worry. She’s used to being ‘bothered,’ isn’t that right, Fleur?” Not waiting for an answer, he winked at Nora and then strolled away.
Bernice stared at him until he had disappeared into the darkness. Then she turned and directed a confused gaze at Nora. “What’s going on? What is he talking about?”
“It’s nothing,” Nora said. To her, Bernice was the epitome of a respectable woman, and she didn’t want to lose her friendship by telling her about her past.
“Why did he call you Fleur?”
Nora had hoped that Bernice had missed that, but, of course, she hadn’t. She pressed her lips together, searching for something to say.
Bernice stared into her eyes. “You’re not on the run from the law, are you?”
“No.” A tired smile flitted over Nora’s face. She just didn’t have the energy to lie to her friend any longer. “Fleur was the name I used in my former profession.”
“Profession?”
Nora sighed. She had hoped she wouldn’t be forced to say it out loud. “I worked in a brothel.”
The normally imperturbable Bernice stared at her. Both of her eyebrows lifted until they nearly reached her hairline. “And Brody Cowen?” She gestured but didn’t find the words to ask.
“He was one of my customers, yes.” Nora closed her eyes. She didn’t want to see the expression of disgust on Bernice’s face. “And now he thinks he can still take those liberties with me.”
Bernice was silent for a long time. “And your husband? Does Luke know about…that you lived in a brothel?” she finally asked, her voice almost a whisper.
“Yes, he knows. That’s where I met him.” Nora opened her eyes to see Bernice’s reaction.
Bernice’s eyes widened. “He was one of your…?”
“No,” Nora said quickly. Defending Luke’s honor was more important than defending her own. “He refused my advances, but then he came back and asked me to marry him.”
“Even knowing what you did for a living?” Bernice asked. “It must have been love at first sight.”
Nora knew it hadn’t been, but she said nothing. How could she explain why Luke had married her when she didn’t understand it herself? She looked at Bernice, waiting for a reaction to her revelation, but none came. Bernice continued to look at her with the same warmth as before. “You’re taking this awfully well,” Nora finally said.
Bernice laughed. “What did you expect me to do? Yell and turn my back on you?”
“Well, yes,” Nora said.
“Who am I to pass judgment on what other people had to do in order to survive?” Bernice shook her head. “You are a good mother, a hardworking wife, and a loyal friend. You deserve a chance to start anew, without people like Brody Cowen interfering.”
Nora stumbled as her knees turned to jelly.
Bernice caught her in a motherly embrace. “You were really worried about my reaction, weren’t you?”
Nora nodded, her face pressed against a rounded shoulder. “I was so glad to have you in my life again, and I didn’t want to risk losing your friendship. You’ve been more like a mother to me than my own mother ever was.”
“Lord, you make me feel old.”
The comment made Nora chuckle, and she finally relaxed.
Bernice looked down at the enlarged belly that was pressed against her in their embrace. “The baby,” she said with wide eyes. “And Amy? They’re not…?”
“Luke’s?” Nora bit her lip. As much as she wanted to believe otherwise, they weren’t. “No, they’re not.” She didn’t add that a customer had fathered her baby, knowing Bernice would guess it anyway.
Bernice shook her head. “You’d never know it watching him with Amy. I’ve never seen a man care that way for a child that wasn’t his own flesh and blood.”
Quiet, dragging steps interrupted Nora’s answer. She let go of Bernice and reached for the revolver in her apron pocket.
She didn’t need it. Instead of Brody Cowen, Emeline’s pale face appeared in front of them. She stumbled forward, bent over, clutching her stomach.
“Emmy!” Nora called out to her.
Emeline sank to her knees, then rolled onto her side. When she reached out pleading hands, Nora saw that there was blood on them. “My baby.” Emeline whimpered. “It hurts so much.”
For a few moments, Luke considered not answering. She had never told anyone about Nate. But Nora had earned her trust. She couldn’t tell her the most basic truth about herself, her biggest secret, but she could tell her this. “He was my friend, yes. We fought together in Mexico. He didn’t make it home.” Nate’s whole life, reduced to three short sentences.
“I’m sorry. If he was a good man and a good friend, then it would be a good name for the baby, wouldn’t it?” Nora gently touched her sleeve.
Luke wrestled with herself. She closed her eyes, then exhaled. “Yes,” she said.
“All right.” Nora looked down at her belly with a smile. “Did you hear that? Your name’s gonna be Nate or Nattie.”
Amy began to murmur and sigh in her sleep. She tossed and turned, throwing off the blanket in the process.
Luke, sitting closer to the girl than Nora, reached out to tuck the blanket back around Amy. “Nora?” she said with a frown. “Have a look at Amy. She’s not always this hot when she sleeps, is she?”
The letter was forgotten as Nora rose to check on her daughter. She laid a hand on Amy’s forehead. Her eyes widened. “She’s burning up with fever. Her shirt is soaked through.”
Hot and cold waves raced through Luke’s body. She didn’t know how to deal with a sick child. “What should we do?” She looked down at Amy’s flushed face.
Amy struggled against the blanket as a cough racked her small body.
For a moment, the same panic that Luke felt glimmered in Nora’s eyes, then she straightened her shoulders. “Let’s try to give her some tea and a little onion syrup.”
“Tea. All right.” After wrapping an improvised bandage around her hand, Luke scrambled to her feet, grabbed a pot, and rushed from the tent.
The camp lay in silence. Bill Larson and some of his friends were still sitting in Fort Hall’s small saloon, and most other emigrants were already asleep in their tents and wagons. Luke had never missed Bernice Garfield as much as at this moment.
She hurried down to the Snake River and dragged a pot of water back to the camp. Without a comment, she hung the pot over the fire that the guard had already burning.
“What are you doing?” At the sound of the guard’s voice, Luke realized it was Brody Cowen.
“I need hot water. Amy’s sick.” Luke didn’t have the patience to deal with him now. God help him if he tries to stop me now.
But Brody settled back down. He made no move to help Luke, but he also didn’t try to stop her.
With the hot water, Luke rushed back to the tent.
Nora was still kneeling next to Amy. She had changed her into a dry sleep shirt and covered her with an extra blanket.
“Here’s the hot water,” Luke said, lowering her voice to an almost whisper. “What kind of tea do you want? Sassafras?”
“Yeah. But I need some sugar to sweeten it—she won’t drink it otherwise.”
Luke didn’t hesitate. Once again, she raced to their wagon and returned with some sugar. She poured a generous spoonful into the cup that Nora held out in her direction.
Nora settled Amy on her lap and pulled her against her chest to raise her up a bit. She blew across the tea’s surface before she patiently poured it into Amy’s mouth.
Hours went by with preparing tea, changing cold compresses, and trying to get Amy to swallow some of the onion syrup. When the sun came up, Amy fell into a restless sleep.
Nora looked up at Luke with red-rimmed eyes. “She can’t travel like this. It would be her death.”
Luke gazed through the half-open flap to the mountains in the distance. The snow-capped peaks reminded her of the need to continue their journey as quickly as possible. If they lost too much time now, they would find themselves still on the trail when the first snow fell.
“Maybe I can stay in Fort Hall until Amy is better,” Nora said when she didn’t answer. “I could try to get some work in the saloon or—”
“No,” Luke said. “You’ll never have to work in a saloon or a brothel again. I promised you that when I married you, and I still mean it. We’ll both stay here with Amy until she’s well enough to travel.”
Nora blinked. Tears trembled on her eyelashes. “But the wagon train… The others won’t wait for us, will they?”
“No, probably not. But maybe we can join another train in a few days. Amy’s health is all that matters now.” Luke rose to tell the captain about her decision.
Fort Hall,
August 5th, 1851
Nora cried uncontrollably. Her whole body shook with her sobs. “God, I never thought—”
“Don’t cry. I thought you’d be happy to see me again.” Bernice used the edge of her apron to wipe away Nora’s tears.
Nora laughed through her tears. “I am happy. It’s just… I thought I would never see you again, and then Amy got so sick, and we had to stay behind when the others left.” She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself.
The other emigrants had left Fort Hall almost a week ago, leaving behind only the three Hamiltons and the Larsons. Bill had been too hungover to travel. To Nora’s discomfort, Brody Cowen had decided to also stay behind. Just when she had thought that she would be forced to continue the journey in the company of only two men she hated, their old friends who had chosen the longer route via Fort Bridger had arrived at Fort Hall.
“The little darling is all right now, isn’t she?” Bernice asked with almost grandmotherly concern.
Nora turned to look at Amy, who was resting next to the fire, cuddled up in Luke’s protective arms. “Yeah, she’s fine now.” She closed her eyes and sent a silent prayer of thanks to heaven.
“Has Luke been sick too?” Bernice asked.
Nora’s gaze wandered from Amy to Luke. He’d lost some weight in the last few days, and the dark circles under his eyes told of many sleepless nights spent sitting next to Amy’s bedroll. Luke had tried to keep his emotions hidden behind a mask, but Nora knew him well enough by now to see through this act quite easily. She knew he had been as worried about Amy as she had been. “It was a hard week for all of us,” she said.
Jacob rose from his place by the fire and held up his cup of coffee in a silent toast. “We’ve just taken a vote,” he said. “Luke, you were elected captain of our small wagon train.”
“What?” Luke raised one hand in a gesture of protest. “I didn’t even run for captain.”
Jacob laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “Congratulations.”
Luke’s shoulders slumped. “I really don’t know about this.” His gaze searched out Nora’s.
“You’d make a wonderful captain,” Nora said. “The men trust you to make the right decisions.” She did too.
Luke tapped his fist against his lips. “All right.” He straightened his shoulders. “I’ll lead this wagon train to Oregon, if it’s the last thing I’ll do.”
American Falls,
August 8th, 1851
Slowly, Nora made her way through three-foot-high sagebrush and over razor-sharp rocks, careful not to stumble in the darkness and lose her balance with her growing belly. At a grouping of black lava rocks, she stopped and sat down with a relieved sigh. Lately, she often found herself a little short of breath, and she knew it would only get worse in the last months of her pregnancy.
She peered down the cliffs. The water of the Snake River battered the jagged walls of the lava gorge below.
Luke had led the exhausted oxen down a precipitous path to the river earlier tonight. Nora knew that she couldn’t have done it. The day’s travel over the worst road since leaving Independence had worn her out. The steep trail led over sharp rocks that cut the oxen’s feet. Choking dust and clouds of mosquitoes hung in the air. Not long after noon, oxen began to collapse in front of the wagons. Amy had been inconsolable when they had to leave “Red Rose,” one of their oxen, behind.
Now, after stopping for the night, when she would have been able to rest, Nora couldn’t. A rhythmic twitching in her belly kept her awake. She smoothed her palm over her belly, hoping the baby’s hiccups would stop. She sat and listened to the sounds of the night.
The American Falls roared not far from their camp. Then another sound drowned out the peaceful rumbling of the water. An angry shout, the sound of flesh hitting flesh, and then stifled whimpers. Nora knew only too well where the sounds were coming from. Emmy. He’s beatin’ up on her again. Her jaw began to hurt as she clenched her teeth.
Instead of calming down after a while, as Bill Larson usually did, the sounds from the Larsons’ wagon didn’t stop; they became even louder. There was a loud snap, as if something heavy had been shoved against the wagon’s boards, then a cry of pain.
Nora took a deep breath. She had listened to Emmy’s muffled crying more than a dozen times during their journey. As much as she wanted to, she had never intervened, because she always thought she didn’t have the right—or the means—to do it. She didn’t know why or how, but that opinion had slowly changed over the last months. She no longer believed that their marriage certificate gave Bill Larson the right to terrorize his wife. It’s Luke. He set new standards for me. He treats me like a person, not a possession, a slave to order around, or a whore to satisfy his needs.
She touched the small revolver in her apron pocket, reassured by the feel of cold metal against her fingertips. With a pounding heart and wobbly knees, she made her way toward the Larsons’ wagon.
“Hello, luscious,” a voice from the darkness stopped her. “What are you doing out here, all on your own? Been waiting for me?” Brody Cowen stepped out from behind a wagon.
Nora froze. “N-no. I’m just h-heading back to my tent…to Luke. He’s waiting up for me.”
Brody smirked. “I bet he doesn’t even know you’re gone.”
He didn’t. He’d been asleep when Nora slipped from the tent. Her glance darted left and right. Quickly, she tried to step around Brody and escape into the darkness.
Brody’s brawny arms closed around her like iron shackles. He pulled her back against his heaving chest.
Nora shivered and started to struggle when she felt his lips on her neck. “Let go of me.” She tried to use the tricks Luke had taught her, but Brody only grunted when she kicked his shin. He didn’t loosen his hold on her. “I’ll call for help.”
“Ha! So everyone can learn about your sordid past?” Laughter shook his body.
Nora used the opportunity to get one arm free. She elbowed him in the ribs. When his grip on her loosened, she whirled around. Her fingers dived into her apron pocket and came up holding the revolver. The barrel shook when she pointed it at Brody.
“Nice toy.” Brody grinned down at her. “Do you even know how to use it?”
Nora had to swallow before she could speak. “I do.”
“And do you also know what it’s like to shoot a man? To stand right in front of him and pull the trigger? There’s gonna be a lot of blood, and it’ll all be on your hands. Think you can do that, huh? Can you look into his eyes while he’s dying, knowing you’re responsible for it?” His hand shot out and grabbed the revolver, pulling it from Nora’s grip. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Now, where were we?”
“Emeline? Is that you?” Bernice’s voice sounded from just a few yards away. “I heard someone cry out and—”
Both Nora and Brody froze. He grabbed her hair and roughly pulled her head back until she had to look into his cruel eyes. “You better keep quiet about this, or I’ll make sure you regret it.”
She stumbled when he let go of her.
“Nora?” Bernice had reached them now. “Did you hear…? What happened to you?” She smoothed a motherly hand over Nora’s tangled hair, then fixed a suspicious gaze on Brody. “What are you doing here, all alone with a young woman who is not your wife, Mister Cowen?”
The protective tone of her voice was a balm to Nora’s soul. No one had ever taken a stand for her. No one but Luke. It felt good to see a woman have the courage to stand up to a man.
Brody flashed a grin. “Just showing our mutual friend here how to defend herself, Mrs. Garfield.” He pressed the small revolver into Nora’s hand.
“Nora?” Bernice turned toward Nora. “Was he bothering you?”
Nora slid the revolver into her apron pocket and held her breath. Now she had to make a decision about the way she would live her life. Since marrying Luke and setting out for Oregon, she hadn’t really had to make any decisions. The captain, Luke, and the other men decided which road they would take, when to stop for their noon break, and where to camp. She had limited herself to what she did best—making sure that she and her daughter would survive. The easiest thing to ensure survival would be to keep quiet and suffer in silence until she reached Oregon and Brody would be gone from her life.
But now other things were important to her. Merely surviving wouldn’t be enough any longer, not when it meant sacrificing her dignity. If she ever wanted to leave her former life as a prostitute behind, she would have to stop men like Brody Cowen from treating her like one. “Yes,” she whispered.
“Yes?” Bernice tilted her head as if she wasn’t sure if she had understood correctly.
“Yes, he was bothering me,” Nora said a little more loudly.
Bernice put her hands on her ample hips. “I think you better leave, Mister Cowen, before I decide to wake up my husband—and hers.” She pointed at Nora.
Brody smirked. “Oh, don’t worry. She’s used to being ‘bothered,’ isn’t that right, Fleur?” Not waiting for an answer, he winked at Nora and then strolled away.
Bernice stared at him until he had disappeared into the darkness. Then she turned and directed a confused gaze at Nora. “What’s going on? What is he talking about?”
“It’s nothing,” Nora said. To her, Bernice was the epitome of a respectable woman, and she didn’t want to lose her friendship by telling her about her past.
“Why did he call you Fleur?”
Nora had hoped that Bernice had missed that, but, of course, she hadn’t. She pressed her lips together, searching for something to say.
Bernice stared into her eyes. “You’re not on the run from the law, are you?”
“No.” A tired smile flitted over Nora’s face. She just didn’t have the energy to lie to her friend any longer. “Fleur was the name I used in my former profession.”
“Profession?”
Nora sighed. She had hoped she wouldn’t be forced to say it out loud. “I worked in a brothel.”
The normally imperturbable Bernice stared at her. Both of her eyebrows lifted until they nearly reached her hairline. “And Brody Cowen?” She gestured but didn’t find the words to ask.
“He was one of my customers, yes.” Nora closed her eyes. She didn’t want to see the expression of disgust on Bernice’s face. “And now he thinks he can still take those liberties with me.”
Bernice was silent for a long time. “And your husband? Does Luke know about…that you lived in a brothel?” she finally asked, her voice almost a whisper.
“Yes, he knows. That’s where I met him.” Nora opened her eyes to see Bernice’s reaction.
Bernice’s eyes widened. “He was one of your…?”
“No,” Nora said quickly. Defending Luke’s honor was more important than defending her own. “He refused my advances, but then he came back and asked me to marry him.”
“Even knowing what you did for a living?” Bernice asked. “It must have been love at first sight.”
Nora knew it hadn’t been, but she said nothing. How could she explain why Luke had married her when she didn’t understand it herself? She looked at Bernice, waiting for a reaction to her revelation, but none came. Bernice continued to look at her with the same warmth as before. “You’re taking this awfully well,” Nora finally said.
Bernice laughed. “What did you expect me to do? Yell and turn my back on you?”
“Well, yes,” Nora said.
“Who am I to pass judgment on what other people had to do in order to survive?” Bernice shook her head. “You are a good mother, a hardworking wife, and a loyal friend. You deserve a chance to start anew, without people like Brody Cowen interfering.”
Nora stumbled as her knees turned to jelly.
Bernice caught her in a motherly embrace. “You were really worried about my reaction, weren’t you?”
Nora nodded, her face pressed against a rounded shoulder. “I was so glad to have you in my life again, and I didn’t want to risk losing your friendship. You’ve been more like a mother to me than my own mother ever was.”
“Lord, you make me feel old.”
The comment made Nora chuckle, and she finally relaxed.
Bernice looked down at the enlarged belly that was pressed against her in their embrace. “The baby,” she said with wide eyes. “And Amy? They’re not…?”
“Luke’s?” Nora bit her lip. As much as she wanted to believe otherwise, they weren’t. “No, they’re not.” She didn’t add that a customer had fathered her baby, knowing Bernice would guess it anyway.
Bernice shook her head. “You’d never know it watching him with Amy. I’ve never seen a man care that way for a child that wasn’t his own flesh and blood.”
Quiet, dragging steps interrupted Nora’s answer. She let go of Bernice and reached for the revolver in her apron pocket.
She didn’t need it. Instead of Brody Cowen, Emeline’s pale face appeared in front of them. She stumbled forward, bent over, clutching her stomach.
“Emmy!” Nora called out to her.
Emeline sank to her knees, then rolled onto her side. When she reached out pleading hands, Nora saw that there was blood on them. “My baby.” Emeline whimpered. “It hurts so much.”
