Falling for Allyson, page 1
FALLING FOR ALLYSON
WHISKEY SPRINGS SERIES
KATHRYN KALEIGH
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FALLING FOR ALLYSON
PREVIEW: SAVING SAVANNAH
Copyright © 2022 by Kathryn Kaleigh
All rights reserved.
Written by Kathryn Kaleigh
Published by KST Publishing, Inc., 2022
Cover by Skyhouse24Media
www.kathrynkaleigh.com
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, or incidents are products of the author’s imagination and used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual people, places, of events is purely coincidental or fictionalized.
CHAPTER 1
Natchez, Mississippi
1867
The Mississippi River was teaming with steamboats, sending waves of water lapping noisily against the bank at their feet.
Everyday brought more carpetbaggers from the north.
The summer sun reflected off the muddy water and the glass of the steamboat windows in a kaleidoscope of light and color.
Allyson Beauchamp covered her nose with her silk shawl. The putrid water smelled like dead animals.
Allyson didn’t mind the carpetbaggers. Instead, she learned from them. For one, she learned that fashion had changed since the war began. And that the south lagged shamefully behind.
“We should go back,” she said. “Wait in line.”
A line to get on the Mississippi Princess was already forming. Men wearing dashing suits. Ladies wearing formal dresses in every color of the rainbow with their matching parasols.
Her fourteen-year-old brother, Thomas, knelt next to the water, searching for something…
“Thomas,” she said. “What are you doing?”
She was dying of embarrassment. The other passengers would think that she and Thomas were from the country. Or worse. Though what could be worse, she didn’t know.
Nobody with any breeding would be down here crawling around next to the river.
“I’m looking for a rock,” Thomas said. “for my rock collection.”
“You don’t have a rock collection.” Allyson kept the shawl over her face, not so much for the smell now, but so that no one would see her down here.
Thomas sent her a scathing glance over his shoulder.
“Every collection starts with one,” he said.
He ducked a hand into the water.
“Got it,” he said, holding up what looked like an ordinary pebble.
“Good,” she said, shaking her head in bewilderment. “Let’s go.”
Allyson lifted her skirts just enough to keep them from dragging in the dirt. She was wearing a lovely emerald silk dress with a wide hoop skirt. It had a high neckline and long sleeves. She carried her little matching parasol with gloved hands.
Thomas quickly caught up.
“Hey,” he said. “If you’re going to drag me off to the Colorado Territory, the least you can do is let me get some fun out of it.”
Allyson stopped and stared at her brother.
“A rock collection?” She glanced over her shoulder and lowered her voice.
“What would you have me collect?” Thomas crossed his arms.
“I don’t know.” She twirled her parasol. “Paintings or some such.”
Thomas rolled his eyes.
“And where am I going to carry paintings?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Allyson started walking again. “We’ll talk about it later,” she said beneath her breath.
As they walked toward the end of the line, she put on her best smile, dimple and all, and nodded at those who greeted her as she passed.
They reached the back of the line.
“I wonder what kind of food they serve on the boat,” Thomas said.
“I don’t know,” Allyson said. “I guess we’ll find out.”
“Do you think we can go up in the captain’s pilot house?”
“I wouldn’t think so,” she said, softly.
“We should get something to eat as soon as we can,” Thomas said. “I’m hungry.”
“Thomas,” Allyson said. “Please don’t.”
With Thomas chattering like this, there was no way people weren’t going to think they were from the country.
Thomas shrugged and turned around, kicking at the dirt.
Allyson twirled her parasol and kept her gaze straight ahead.
The trip to Colorado Territory was going to be long, to say the least.
CHAPTER 2
Allyson sat on one of her trunks in their cabin, soothed by the sway of the steamboat.
The Mississippi was so wide, she could just barely see the hills of Natchez from here.
The chug of the steamboat engine was a distant memory, the quietness broken only by the boat’s haunting whistle.
The little window was open, letting in the murky scent of the river.
Thomas was somewhere. Roaming the decks of the boat. So Allyson had a few minutes of peace.
He’d left his rock on the bed.
She laughed and shook her head. He said he was going to pick up a rock every place they stopped between here and Whiskey Springs.
For souvenirs.
Thomas was the only person she knew who could come up with such an outlandish scheme. He was right though. It was about the only thing he could realistically collect between here and their destination.
She pulled a letter out of her reticule.
It was from Brantley Jackson.
Allyson remembered Brantley, though she hadn’t seen him since she was eleven years old.
Her sister, Samantha, had been going to run away and marry him.
Samantha hadn’t thought that anyone knew.
But Allyson knew.
She also knew that Brantley hadn’t shown up the day that they were to run off together.
And Samantha had been brokenhearted.
But that was long time ago. 1863 to be exact.
Allyson would have bet her trunk full of dresses that he’d been killed.
Nonetheless, she’d kept those thoughts to herself.
And now Brantley had surfaced. And somehow, through an inexplicable quirk, Samantha was with him.
Allyson didn’t know when the two of them had reconnected in the last four years.
Allyson hadn’t heard from her sister.
She didn’t even know if she lived.
Until she got this letter.
She’d written back immediately. Let him know that she and Thomas were well.
The germ of an idea had been planted and quickly grew into a plan.
Her aunt and uncle had not been pleased. Her aunt had pleaded with Allyson to not go.
It wasn’t proper, she’d said.
The only women who traveled west were wives or harlots.
Well. Allyson wasn’t either of those.
Even though, if she wanted to, she could have been a wife several times over.
But the war had thinned out the men of marriageable age, leaving eligible men few and far between. Desirable eligible men.
She had proposals from two men in their forties and one young man, a couple of years younger than Allyson. Unfortunately, the young man had no prospects. His family had lost everything in the war and he was left without a job.
Allyson’s uncle, a business man, through and through, worked with the carpetbaggers, not against them.
He owned a bank and took in as much of their money as they could throw his way.
He’d been a wealthy man before the war and he was twice as wealthy now. At least.
Uncle Matthew had given her a signed note guaranteeing as much money as she needed. Besides, beneath the false bottom of her trunk was enough money to last for quite some time.
The first thing she had to do was procure a wagon, oxen, and supplies in Independence, Missouri.
This was so, so much more interesting than entertaining the dull people of society in Natchez.
The west was a new frontier and she would be a part of it.
CHAPTER 3
Five Weeks Later
So far, the going had been smooth.
There were no trees out here on the plains and they had a clear view of the horizon in all directions. The sun fell over the horizon sending out rays of light beneath white puffy clouds.
The scent of burning buffalo chips, commonly called plains oak when in polite company, took some getting used to. Not the most pleasant smell.
Allyson and Thomas had been on the trail for one week now.
They had taken some time to purchase their wagon, six oxen, a cow, and supplies. Then hopped in with a late season wagon train. One of the last, actually, leaving this year.
The gentleman at the mercantile had looked at the two of them with a great deal of skepticism, but he had gladly taken the money Allyson offered.
Allyson sat on a cracker box and took a bite of bacon.
A few of the travelers had already eaten and were getting ready to play music.
“Let’s go listen to the music,” Thomas said, stuffing a biscuit into his mouth.
Allyson was so exhausted, she didn’t care if she never heard music again.
“You can hear it from here,” she said, rubbing the side of her head.
So much dirt flying. All the time.
At least at night, she could crawl into the wagon, on top of the trunks, and get some sleep without the wind blowing dirt into her face.
The trunks weren’t comfortable to sleep on, but they were more comfortable than sleeping in the wind or worrying about rattlesnakes crawling under her blanket.
Thomas sat quietly through the rest of supper.
He was pouting, that much she could tell. It was hard for Thomas to go more than two minutes without saying anything.
“Ok,” she said. “after we do the supper dishes, we can walk over there for a minute.”
“Whoopee,” Thomas said, stuffing his last bite of bacon into his mouth.
They wiped down the dishes and tucked everything away for the night.
Then Allyson grabbed a shawl and, yawning behind her hand, they set off toward the guitar music.
She could hear it just fine from her bed in the wagon.
But she had to remember that it wasn’t all about her.
If Thomas wanted to walk over and see the men playing guitar up close, it was the least she could do.
After all, she was the one who’d wanted this adventure.
She’d merely dragged Thomas along with her.
Ever since Papa had sent the two of them to live with Uncle Matthew and his wife, they’d been inseparable.
Papa had sent their sister, Samantha, to live with his brother in New Orleans and they hadn’t seen her since. And now she found out her sister was in the Colorado Territory.
They may never see Mama and Papa again, but at least the three siblings could be together.
There were about a dozen people gathered around three men playing guitars. Allyson and Thomas sat down next to them.
The men were singing a sad song about a lonely cowboy. The only light came from the moon, adding to the mournfulness of the song.
Allyson yawned again.
Thomas wasn’t watching the men playing guitar any more. His attention was on a man sitting in front of his wagon a few feet away.
“Really, Thomas,” she said. “You have the attention span of a gnat.”
Thomas shrugged. “I’m gonna go talk to Albert.”
“How do you even know who that man is?” she asked.
Thomas just shrugged.
“If you’re going over there, then I’m going to bed,” she said.
She stood up and straightened her shawl around her shoulders.
Turning, she looked back over in the direction of their wagon.
It was dark between here and there.
Most of the fires had been put out and people were starting to go to bed.
Albert was already talking to the man.
Allyson walked over and stood just out of earshot. Even from here, she could smell the cigar smoke that swirled around him like a wispy cloud.
The man said something to Thomas and nodded in her direction.
Thomas nodded solemnly and walked toward her.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Yes,” Allyson turned and together they walked back in the darkness toward their wagon.
“Who was that man?” Allyson asked.
“That’s Albert,” Thomas said.
“So you said, But what was he doing?”
“Cleaning his gun,” Thomas said. “He was a soldier in the war.”
“I see,” Allyson said, stepping around someone’s chickens.
“We should have bought a gun,” Thomas said.
“Except that neither one of us knows how to shoot,” she said as they reached their wagon.
“Albert said he’ll teach me.”
Thomas climbed up in the wagon.
Allyson just shook her head.
“Boys,” she said.
CHAPTER 4
One month later
Allyson walked next to the covered wagon. The wagon on her right, their cow on her left.
The cow’s iron bell punctuated every step she took.
Thomas was driving the wagon. The two of them took turns. Sometimes they both rode, but more often than not, the one not driving would walk. They had to move around, at least some of the time.
The sun’s heat pounded through her straw hat and made her feel like her head was going to explode.
Hot dust blew into her face constantly. Hot. Miserable.
This was not what Allyson expected. Though to be honest with herself, she hadn’t known what to expect.
She’d read a few dime novels. But in those, the trip didn’t take nearly as long — just turn a page and they were there. And it wasn’t nearly so miserable for those fictional characters as it was in real life.
They would be stopping for the night soon.
Though they were incredibly busy, evenings, what little there was of them, were Allyson’s favorite time of the day. By the time they ate supper, the temperature cooled to a pleasant degree.
After cleaning up the supper dishes, Allyson and Thomas would crawl into the wagon, onto the top of their trunks and fall asleep.
Then after what seemed like only minutes, the horn would sound and they’d be up again. Before the chickens.
They ate breakfast and supper. That was it. If they wanted something in the middle of the day, they’d grab a biscuit.
The wagon train had left later in the season than most, so they pushed, covering as much ground as possible each day. There were sixteen wagons altogether.
They’d only been on the trail for a month, but already, they’d lost two of their traveling companions.
One woman had died giving birth.
The other women took turns with the baby and each day the baby’s crying got louder.
Each day they moved the baby backwards one wagon. Tomorrow was Allyson’s day.
She dreaded it, but she felt sorry for the man who’d lost his wife and was left alone to care for their child.
It was hard enough out here without having a child to care for.
She’d overhead some talk that the man might give the baby to one of the ladies.
It was unimaginable.
They’d also lost a man who’d been crushed while fixing a cracked wheel on his wagon.
The dime novels didn’t cover this either.
Something scurried in the grass just ahead of her.
Allyson froze.
Then she heard the rattle.
A rattlesnake.
Every nerve in her body tensed.
Everything moved in slow motion.
The wagon kept rolling. The cow kept walking.
But she didn’t dare move a muscle.
Not a twitch.
The snake raised its head, swayed and hissed, its forked tongue flicking up and down.
It swayed toward her ever so slightly, floating in the air.
The pop of a gun, sent her crumpling backwards.
She covered her face with her arms and closed her eyes.
So this was how it would end…
CHAPTER 5
Allyson held her breath and waited to feel the rattlesnake’s fangs bite into her skin.
Its rattle was all she could hear.
Then in what was probably only a second, but felt like forever, she heard Thomas calling her name.
She whimpered, but didn’t dare move.
“Albert shot him,” Thomas said.
Allyson’s breath came in short gasps.
She felt someone standing near her.
“I shot him,” a man said. “He can’t hurt you now.”
Allyson slowly lowered her arms and opened her eyes. Thomas knelt in front of her.
He was grinning.
“Albert shot the rattlesnake,” he said. “You shoulda seen that snake flying through the air.”
She sat up and looked toward the snake.
It was writhing, but was no longer floating in the air.
Albert picked it up by the tail. It swayed toward him and he dropped it.
“It doesn’t look dead,” Allyson said, scooting back a little.
Albert looked in her direction. “It’s dead,” he said. “It just doesn’t know it yet.” He kicked the snake away. “But he can still bite.”
