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Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three

Chapter One

Arizona Territory

When Josh stumbled into the grove of trees, he thought he was alone. He hoped he was. He needed to be alone to lick his wounds. What a piece of bad luck to be kicked out of the traveling circus, miles from any real civilization. Sounds of a small choir reached his ears. Heaven? Did my fall from the wagon kill me? He thought he was alive. The way he hurt all over indicated to him that he was and he thought he had been wandering the hot desert for days.

He was thirsty, sunburned, and exhausted. He needed water, food and rest. Couldn't be dead, not as miserable as he felt, though no one really knew what hell was like. The sun had beat against his skin like a fiery furnace. He felt like hell.

Josh pushed himself through the bramble and came face to face with a prim-looking woman. She was dressed in a grey woolen dress with white collar and cuffs. After his initial appraisal, his first thought was that of a pilgrim, but what would a pilgrim be doing in the desert? Snickering, he thought, And what would a clown dressed in a rhinestone covered orange suit be doing here, too?

The woman gasped as she saw him. Momentarily, she raised her eyes to God and grasped her Bible more firmly. Her two female companions gaped at him.

Josh found his voice first and remembering his manners said, "I'm Josh Crandal."

The woman who appeared to be the pilgrim in charge looked down her slim nose at him.

"I-I fell off the wagon several miles from here." He pointed in the southwesterly direction. "I'm a clown."

"You certainly look it," the grey-garbed woman said. "Are you hungry?"

"Yes, ma'am." Josh took off his orange and red jester hat and held it in his hands before him politely. "I'll work off any grub you give me. Need any wood gathered?"

"As you can see, we have a fire," the woman answered with just a hint of a smile on her lips. "What we need is a man who can fix our wagon wheel."

"You mean you're broke down here? Where are your men-folk?"

"We are alone, Mr. Crandal."

The fire crackled and sent tongues of flame flickering in the twilight lighting the planes of the face of the austere woman, who stood her ground firmly, looking him straight in the eye.

"Don't you know it's dangerous for a few women to travel alone? All kinds of riffraff travel these roads. You never know who you'll come upon."

"Evidently."

Josh felt his face flush at her dry answer and was glad for the dusky twilight. Damn, ornery, snippity female. She made him feel like a dunce.

"Marilee, get Mr. Crandal a bowl. As you see, we have a guest."

Marilee grinned and sent Josh a friendly glance.

Josh watched, still standing at attention, as the cheerful-looking woman called Marilee went to fetch utensils and a dinner bowl. It appeared that woman was well named. He didn't know what to think of the woman in charge.

"Oh, dear, I've forgotten my manners, Mr. Crandal. My name is Harriet Goodspell, and my companions are Miss Marilee Dinwitty and Miss Rebecca Wannamaker. We're traveling to Contention City to spread God's word among the miners, farmers, and merchants there."

"Contention City? I just come from over that way. It's a boomtown, all right, but there's no place for you to stay. Mostly just a tent and shantytown. Couple of saloons and who--" He almost said whorehouses but caught himself just in time. Josh shook his head. "I don't think you want to go there. It's no place for three ladies."

Harriet smiled. "That's exactly why we must go there. If someone doesn't preach the gospel, what will become of the souls of those hard-working men? God will protect us, Mr. Crandal."

He couldn't help but mutter, "Yeah, just like He protected you from a broken wheel."

"But He also sent you to fix it." The woman's lips were pressed in a firm, self-satisfied, prim line.

"Listen, Miss Goodspell, I'm just a circus clown." Josh shifted on his feet. He was hungry, he'd gladly work off his meal, but he knew nothing of mechanics. "I'm not sure I can fix your wagon wheel."

"I have faith in you, Mr. Crandal." Harriet looked straight at him. "Why else would you have fallen unnoticed from the circus wagon if it were not God's will?"

"For the love of God," he muttered under his breath. God had nothing to do with it. It was that tightwad, Jim Clamerty who pushed him off the wagon, who kept all of his clothes and worldly possessions, just because Josh wanted his pay. Jim Clamerty who invited him to a poker game, not even letting him change his costume. Jim Clamerty who high-tailed it out of Whiskey Ridge with his circus wagons and performers before the sheriff caught on to his crooked dealings.

Josh kept these thoughts to himself, accepted his bowl of stew with thanks, and sat where Miss Harriet Goodspell indicated. Just when he was ready to dive into his grub, the woman began to pray.

"Thank thee, Lord, for this food we have, and thank Thee for providing us with an escort and helper to fix our wagon. We trust in Thy wisdom, and accept our blessings with humility. Amen."

"Amen," the others including Josh echoed. It took a few minutes before the meaning of Miss Goodspell's words sunk in. Escort! Not me, Miss Prissy. Not on your life. Soon's I get your wheel fixed I'm off to the nearest town. Anyplace but Contention City.

Josh dug into his food. He was so hungry he didn't spare much time for good manners, but ate steadily as the night deepened. The stew was tasty, seasoned well almost as good as something he'd have gotten in the hotel dining room back in Savannah.

"Is there much call for circus clowns, Mr. Crandal?" Harriet asked.

Josh shook his head. "Jim Clamerty's the only circus out this-away that I know of. Not much of one either."

"But you were with him."

"I needed a job, Miss Goodspell. I reckoned it would be a lot easier than punching cattle."

"Was it?"

"Well, now, I don't rightly know, ma'am. I never have punched a cow."

Marilee laughed. "You sound like you were going to haul off and hit the poor animal."

"Might, if I have to."

"What will you do now, Mr. Crandal?" Harriet asked as she picked daintily at her meal. "Are you going to try to find the circus wagon again?"

"Not to work for. Mr. Clamerty owes me money and my clothes. He's got my horse. I aim to collect 'em."

"How do you propose to go about that?"

Josh shook his head. "Damned--"

Both Marilee and Rebecca tittered.

"Excuse me, ladies, I mean darned...dagblasted...if I know."

Harriet put down her bowl and spoon, and looked at Rebecca. "Don't we have some men's clothing in the poor box?"

"Yes, Miss Hetty, come to think on it, I believes we do."

"In the morning, see if you can find something for Mr. Crandal."

"I'd appreciate that," Josh said. He felt somewhat a fool sitting eating supper dressed in an orange and red outfit with rhinestones glittering in the firelight. His outfit had seen better days, especially now that he'd rolled around on the ground and fought his way through brambles and cacti. "I'll help with the cleaning up, and then I'll just bed down over yonder." He pointed to an area on the farther side of some boulders several yards away.

"That won't be necessary, Mr. Crandal. Miss Wannamaker and Miss Dinwitty and I will sleep in the wagon. We'll find you a blanket. You may want to keep the fire going. I hear coyotes and bear will stay away if they see a fire."

She took her supper bowl over to a wash pan and the other two women followed suit.

Josh watched them. Never in all his life had he seen a woman like Harriet Goodspell. Prim didn't seem to describe her, with her erect back, hair pulled tightly back in a bun and not a wisp out of place, and her plain, dowdy grey gown. Yet, the way the firelight played on the planes of her face, her steady eyes, and small slender hands seemed to fill him with awe. Yep, she was one awesome lady. He shook his head. Those women had no business out in the desert alone with no man to protect them. Sure, they trusted in the Lord, but He was a long way from Tombstone, and that's what lay directly south.

Marilee was a tall, thin woman who seemed to have a perpetual smile on her narrow face. If it weren't for her smile, she'd have looked as prim and proper as Harriet Goodspell. As Josh studied Marilee's countenance more carefully, he decided she was plain homely, but her smile and dancing eyes disguised that fact.

Rebecca Wannamaker was short and corpulent and her broad hips swayed as she walked. Unlike Harriet and Marilee, she exuded an unkempt appearance. Her apron was stained, her hair crept out of its confines and hung in tendrils around her round face, and her hands looked red and rough.

Josh put his bowl and spoon in the pan and started washing and cleaning the dishes. The women walked off away into the darkness, and he pretended he did not know what they were about. As soon as they were asleep, he would take care of nature's call, too.

A steaming kettle sat on a rock at the edge of the fire. After pouring some water from the kettle onto the dishes, he scrubbed them as best he could. His stomach rumbled. He was still hungry, and he sure could use a cup of coffee, but did not smell any or see a pot of the brew anywhere. He hoped their religious sect wasn't against drinking coffee.

As if reading his thoughts, as Rebecca Wannamaker walked by as he put the dishes up, she said, "In the mornin' we'll have a pot of coffee. Our provisions are runnin', low, so Miss Goodspell decided we'd only have coffee in the mornin'."

"Good idea, ma'am."

"Oh, you don't have to call me ma'am. Becky will do just fine, Mr. Crandal."

"Josh."

"Josh." With a seductive smile, Becky asked, "Short for Joseph? Or Joshua?"

"Joshua."

"Hetty will like that. A good Bible name."

"You're not religious?"

Becky giggled. "Miss Hetty, she saved me right out of Madam Fletcher's House in Kansas City. I was a poor sinnin' girl, but Miss Hetty, she showed me the way, and here I am, her disciple." With another giggle and a swing of her broad hips, she added, "I'm saved, but I can't believe God didn't mean us to have a little fun now and again. You know what I mean?"

"I think I do, Miss Wannamaker."

"Becky." She touched his shoulder. "I do believe Miss Hetty is right about somethin'. God did send you to us. If you really ever need a friend for comfort, just let me know, Joshua."

After the three women retired, Josh stared at the fire for several minutes wondering how much damage there was to the broken wheel. How in tarnation am I going to fix it? He was no wheel-worker, no blacksmith, nothing. He wasn't even a good circus clown.

If he had any sense at all in his thick head, he'd be back in Savannah working in his father's bank. He was an educated man. Finished high school. Not many men out in the God-forsaken area called the West could say that.

Josh scratched his head at a loss to know what to do with the wheel, let alone his life. He had worked in the bank until he was twenty-two, until his father and Miss Hyacinth Meadows' father and mother got together and decided he should marry Hyacinth. Rather than face that matrimonial prison, he escaped and headed west. Not that there was anything wrong with Hyacinth Meadows. She was a winsome type of a girl, calm, eager to please, but she hadn't any spark of fire. And Josh wanted fire, a woman who knew her own mind.

He stared at the smoldering fire near him, and somehow the smoke reminded him of Miss Harriet Goodspell. He did not know quite what to make of her with her firmly pressed lips, lips that quirked slightly at the sight of him but did not lose their prim line completely. Certainly, there was no fire within that woman. Maybe sweet Hyacinth sparkled more with maturity. Maybe he shouldn't have been so hasty to take flight at the thought of marriage. By now, he'd probably have had a couple tots climbing on his knees, a placid girl like Hyacinth and a scamp of a boy like he. Yep, after he reclaimed his goods and money from that scoundrel, Clamerty, he might just head back east, marry and work in the bank. But surely Hyacinth was married by now. Still there'd be other girls, women who might find a traveling man attractive. 'Most everyone back home liked to hear tales of the West.

His thoughts were taken away from Hyacinth and his past when he noticed a glow within the wagon and saw the outline of a feminine shape. It was a heady sight to his weary eyes, those curvy lines silhouetted through the thin covering of the wagon. Not Rebecca, too thin for her, and it wasn't Marilee who was straight as an arrow.

Josh's mouth dropped open. Lord in Heaven! It was the preacher-lady, curved to perfection. He watched as she leaned forward, her bosom thrusting outward, and then the shadowy vision picked up a rifle and cradled it in her arms. The light rose closer to the woman's face, and then the candle was blown out.

Josh mopped his brow with the full sleeve of his clown outfit, not even realizing he scratched his forehead with a rhinestone. Trying to push unwelcome thoughts of Harriet Goodspell from his troubled mind, he turned away from the wagon. It didn't work. He wondered what she'd look like close up in the light of day with her long hair undone, falling toward her face as she leaned forward to give him a kiss. Her lips, not pressed in a firm line would be full and-- "No," he said aloud. He was just tired and overwrought after what he'd been through, being kicked off the circus wagon and trudging through cacti with nothing to drink for two days. He certainly wasn't attracted to that stiff-necked, uppity, biddy of a do-gooder church-woman.

* * *

Before dawn spread her golden arms over the land, Hetty awoke, and dressed. After she said her morning prayers, she climbed down from the leaning wagon. She looked at the sleeping man who had stumbled into their campsite the night before. She did not expect him to still be there. Last night, she had just fallen asleep when her subconscious woke her. It dawned on her that the man could be dangerous. In no way did she believe in violence, but she saw no harm in being prepared, and dug out the hunting rifle her father gave her years ago. She had it with her now, not because of Josh Crandal, but because often in the dawn of morning javelinas, wolves or coyotes visited their campsites and needed to be frightened away.

The fire was down to a few still-burning embers. Hetty leaned the rifle against the wagon, and stirred the embers and added wood. She skimmed off the few insects that had landed in her water bucket and filled the coffee pot. Carefully doling out the bit a coffee into the pot, she put it on a stone in the fire.

Josh snored softly.

Sorry looking excuse for a man, Hetty thought. Her mouth extended into a wide grin as she took in the garish orange and red outfit he wore. Josh Crandal's jester's hat lay beside him. The man himself was tangled in the blanket, part in and part out of it. His dark hair looked unruly, and he sported several days growth of beard. "Dear Lord, You must have a reason," she muttered softly to herself.

Hetty returned to the wagon. She woke Rebecca and Marilee. Rebecca moaned and groaned as was her nature, but Marilee woke ready to face the world with a smile on her plain face.

Josh slept on as the women collectively made sourdough bread and cut slices of cheese for breakfast.

"Ain't we got some honey somewhere?" Rebecca asked. "Honey would go awful good with fresh bread. Haven't had any fresh bread for days. Sure glad, you decided to make some today, Miss Hetty."

"Well, if the man's going to work, he must eat."

"Do you think he'll be able to fix the wheel?" Marilee asked.

Hetty shrugged. "Looks like he'll do nothing but sleep."

"Why don't you wake him?" Rebecca asked.

"I thought our talking and cooking would wake him naturally."

"He's a sound sleeper," Rebecca said. She grinned down at Josh. "I like that in a man."

"Rebecca Wannamaker," Hetty said her voice prim and firm, "You behave yourself. If the good Lord means for you to have that sorry excuse for a man, he'll give you a sign. Not just any old sign, mind you. A firm sign. Respectable, like an offer of marriage."

"Yes, Miss Hetty."

"I won't allow you to chase after him and make a fool of yourself."

"Yes, Miss Hetty." Rebecca scratched at her waist, her eyes still on the sleeping male form. "But he ain't a sorry excuse for a man."

"If you're so fond of him, why aren't you about your business? Don't forget you are to see if we have any clothes for him."

"I'll look right away, Miss Hetty." Rebecca lumbered up into the cart that was hitched behind the wagon.

"The mules haven't deserted us, have they, Marilee?" Harriet asked as she kneaded bread dough.

"No, they're grazing away, contented as our cow." Marilee sighed as she gazed around. "Isn't this a beautiful spot?"

"Yes, it is."

"How fortunate to break down here, among the cottonwoods and with the little stream yonder. I'll drag the barrels over and fill them while Mr. Crandal fixes the wagon wheel."

Harriet beamed at her companion. Marilee brightened any journey, and always saw the best in everything and everyone. Hetty had no worries concerning Marilee, but Rebecca still needed saving. Sinners often lapsed into old ways, and Hetty determined to rehabilitate Rebecca and make her a true child of God.

Josh began to stir. He stretched out his arms to the side and then above him, and moved his long legs to a sitting position.

"Don't move," Harriet said firmly. She got the rifle and raised it to her shoulder.

"Are you mad, woman?" Josh shouted. "I don't mean you no harm." His scalp felt prickly as he stared at her, wondering if she were some sort of psychopath. His eyes bugged out seeing her hand at the trigger.

"Keep still." Harriet made sure of her aim and pulled the trigger. The recoil pushed her backward as the bullet hit its mark just to the right side of Josh's hips.

"Got it," Hetty said with pride and a self-satisfied smile.

"Got what?" Josh asked. The lunatic had barely missed him, the bullet went into the ground just inches from him.

"Whooeee!" Rebecca said as she came running carrying an armload of men's cast-off clothing. "Look at the size of that rattler!"

"Rattler?"

"Yep. Miss Hetty blasted it to smithereens."

"Good shot, ma'am," Marilee said as she walked over to the snake and looked down at it. "It's a big one, all right."

"Mr. Crandal, you must have woke it when you started moving. It's a bit early in the day for it to be around," Hetty said.

"Musta cuddled up to you during the night," Rebecca said with a grin.

"Think you can make a rattlesnake stew, Marilee?"

"If I can find enough of it left to cook."

"I was sleeping with a rattler?" Josh stood up but felt a little shaky.

"I made you a better offer," Rebecca said softly for his ears alone.

"Is that all the clothes?" Harriet asked. She frowned.

"Yes, ma'am. Don't hardly look like any is his size. He's a fine, tall, strapping man." Rebecca simpered.

"Humph," Harriet said. "Beggars can't be choosers, and they'll be a sight better than that clown suit." With a frown furrowing her brow, she looked from Josh to Rebecca. "I thought you were going to get out the honey jar, Miss Wannamaker."

Rebecca shot a malevolent look over her shoulder at Harriet, then ambulated over to the cart again.

Josh looked from one woman to another. Somehow, he felt like he had woke up in the middle of a sideshow. Gun shooting. A woman marksman. Quibbling. Marilee had already removed the snake and was working away on it with a sharp knife, presumably making it edible. Rebecca meanwhile undulated like someone trying to imitate Little Sheba, and Miss Harriet sure didn't look like the soft, feminine woman he'd spied last night. Maybe he dreamed he saw her curved to perfection. He gaped at her.

"You have time to try on the clothes, Mr. Crandal, before breakfast is ready," Harriet said. "I've got sour-dough bread baking. Should be ready soon."

"Yes, ma'am. Where do you want me to go to change? The wagon?"

"There's a stand of trees yonder near the stream. I expect that would suffice. The stream'll be convenient, should you decide to wash your face."

Damn woman. Treating me like an idiot. Josh stooped to pick up the pile of men's clothing Rebecca had dropped on his blanket. He smiled at Marilee as she took a knife to the dead rattler lying near and sliced it in sections. He was hungry enough to eat the rattle uncooked where it lay.

Josh found a place where he was hidden by brush and discarded his clown outfit. If the women had to break down, they sure picked a pretty spot. Few such oases existed in this part of Arizona. A clear stream meandered and tall trees gave ample shade. There were ocotillo trees and cacti, tumbleweed and jimsonweed as well as a smattering of buffalo grass and bramble. The sun blazed down and the sky cloudless, a clear azure blue. Josh splashed his arms and face in the cool stream water, rubbed his hands over the stubble on his cheeks and wished he had a razor. Unlike some men, he always felt better clean-shaven. He tried on the three pairs of trousers. None fit well, either too wide in the waist, too short, or just plain uncomfortable. Finally deciding on a tan pair that came midway down his shins, he donned them, and a rough work shirt of a hideous Kelly green. Seeing his reflection in the stream, he thought he still looked like a clown. He needed to hold up the trousers with his hands to keep them from slipping down his slim hips, and hoped he would find some rope for a belt. A dingy black coat completed his ensemble. He trudged back to the camp, holding his pants up with his right hand and carrying the remaining garments over his left arm.

"Well, now," Harriet said when she saw him. Hiding a grin, she turned away and busied herself at the fire.

"You got any rope or anything I can use for a belt, Miss Goodspell?"

When she turned to face him, tears were streaming down her cheeks and her lips turned up into a wide grin.

"Nothing, I'm sorry," she said stifling a giggle. "It's just that I don't know which outfit looks sillier."

"Glad I brought a smile to your lips," he said tartly.

"Oh, I am sorry, Mr. Crandal." Contritely, she said, "I'll look for something to use as a belt. You surely can't work on the wheel while holding up your trousers."

Josh was so upset, he kicked at a rock, sending it flying and hurting his big toe in the process.

"Now, isn't that better," Rebecca said as she took the unused garments. "I'll fold away your clown suit, and put it with your hat. It'll be all ready when another circus comes along."

"I think I'm through with circuses."

"That so? Maybe a medicine show then."

"I'm through with all of them."

"Well, I'll just wash the suit anyways, and it will be ready when you needs it again. I'm not much good at anythin' 'cept washin'. I'll rinse it out now. I've already got some of our things on the line."

"Don't suppose you women got a razor handy?"

Rebecca shook her round face. "Why would three women have a razor?"

Josh shrugged. "Why would three women be camping in the desert and on the way to God knows where?"

"To save souls, Mr. Crandal," Harriet replied as she returned. "I might even save yours."

"Fat chance you'll have at that."

"All in time," she said calmly, again completely in control, her lips pressed in their firm line once more. "Now if everyone is ready, we'll ask God's blessing for this food, and ask him to help you with the wheel."

"I'll pray for that," Josh muttered softly as all bowed their heads.

Chapter Two

"Oh, Miss Hetty, I can't let you do that!" Marilee screamed.

Josh looked up from the biscuits and honey he shoveled greedily into his mouth expecting to see Harriet Goodspell taking another shot at a rattlesnake near him. He tensed waiting. But what he saw was the woman pulling apart her bonnet.

"What in tarnation?" he muttered to himself.

"I can do what I want with my bonnet," Harriet said firmly.

"But it's your going-to-church bonnet." Marilee looked about to cry.

"God doesn't care if my bonnet has extra ribbons on it," Harriet said as she continued pulling black ribbon from a grey bonnet. "Mr. Crandal needs something to hold his pants up and this is the only thing I've come up with."

"But your bonnet," both Marilee and Rebecca moaned in unison, with sorrowful expressions on their faces.

Josh felt awful to be the cause of the woman tearing up the one flighty thing she appeared to own. He had noticed the hat earlier. Grey bedecked in ruffled black ribbons.

Harriet Goodspell had merely sipped a drop of coffee and had about a forth of a piece of sourdough bread, while he gobbled up 'most everything in sight. She excused herself from the others who continued to eat and had brought out the grey bonnet from the wagon, carrying it like it was a prized-possession, Josh had thought as he watched. The woman had put on the hat just for a moment.

Now, he looked at the plain grey bonnet without a gewgaw except for the ribbon needed to tie under her chin. He knew how much pain her act of kindness and generosity caused her.

"Aw, Miss Goodspell, couldn't we have found something else." Pure sorrow showed in his voice.

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Crandal. Every piece of rope we have is in use, and I searched through everything I could think of. It's little enough sacrifice," Harriet said, forcing her lips into a brave smile that tore at his heart.

Harriet's eyes looked misty to Josh, though the woman smiled as she presented him with the black ribbon. Josh saw then that her eyes were a lovely hazel-green with golden specks that were highlighted by her unshed tears.

"Is there enough?" she asked. "You'll need to knot it."

Josh put the ribbon around his thin waist. "Thank you kindly, ma'am. It'll do fine. I'm just sorry--"

"Think nothing of it." Harriet pulled a loose thread from her barren hat.

"Soon's I have some money, I'll replace the hat," Josh murmured.

"No need, but thank you for your kind offer."

Josh drained his coffee and looked at the ground. He couldn't bear looking at the brave woman before him. Josh remembered how much bonnets meant to his mother and sisters, and to have a woman deny herself for him, a stranger, was almost too much to endure.

Hetty reached for his empty cup.

"I can put up my dish," he said.

"You have other things to attend to," Harriet said, businesslike. "Let us women do women's work, Mr. Crandal. If our wheel isn't repaired, we have no way of getting our Bibles and other things to the men of Contention City."

"Won't you consider Fairbanks or Curtis Flats?" Josh asked. He'd try one more time to persuade her. "I'm sure those towns need some saving too."

"I appreciate your concern Mr. Crandal, but I've made up my mind. My reading tells me that Contention City is the vilest place on this earth."

"It's that, all right."

"So therefore perfect for my plans."

"But Curtis Flats," he began, but Harriet had walked off to return her now plain bonnet to the wagon, not interested in discussing the virtues and vices of cities, or his opinion. He shook his head in consternation. Either place would be better for three lone women, he thought. Even infamous Tombstone would be a sight better than Contention City. Contention was the wildest place Josh had ever heard of. The miners and mill workers, both types the roughest kind of men, had just two things on their minds when they finished their shifts, getting drunk and raising hell. Even Jim Clamerty didn't want to venture into Contention City.

Jim Clamerty. The thought of the man put a frown on Josh's brow. Well, Jim Clamerty would have to wait a bit. Josh meant to even the score with Clamerty, but first he'd have to try to fix a wheel, and he had no talent on that end. Somehow, too, he had to dissuade three stubborn women from risking life and limb in the wildest mining town in Arizona Territory.

The wagon had been drawn just under the shade of a tall cottonwood. That was fortunate. Not that it cooled the space under it much but in the hot desert any bit of shade improved man's lot. Most of the shade fell on the opposite side where the campfire lay and where the women puttered about. The ground here was barren dirt. Tan, sandy dirt that had been trampled by countless wagon trains. Any slightly vegetated stop was a boon to weary travelers, and if the women's food supply held, eventually someone would come and help them out. But Josh knew, it could mean weeks or months of waiting. Fewer wagon trains now plied the Arizona desert. For those who could afford it, steam train travel had become a more popular way to head west. A train even now puffed into Contention City, he had heard.

Josh stared at the wheel with a feeling of complete futility. How was one man supposed to fix the dang thing? He was baffled. The metal rim was bent, some of the wooden spokes broken, and all in all, it looked a complete mess. He glanced at the three women, whose eyes gazed at him with hope.

"How'd you break it?" he asked to give himself some time to consider what he ought to do first.

Rebecca shrugged. Marilee turned a wry face Heavenward, and Harriet sighed.

"We're not sure, Mr. Crandal," Harriet answered. "All I can think of is that a tree branch must have somehow got wedged in the spokes. I saw none about, but maybe the limb worked its way out sometime before the weakened spokes gave out."

"Sounds reasonable," he muttered.

Rebecca and Marilee nodded their heads in agreement.

"Seems like I'll haveta take off the wheel before I do anything else."

"We'll lift the wagon while you slip the wheel off," Harriet said.

Josh looked at her, plainly judging her and the women incapable of any such feat. He sighed, and gave a tug at the wheel. Nothing happened.

"I think it's probably bolted on," Harriet said, making him feel like more and more of an idiot. He ought to have thought of that.

"Just seeing how tight it's on," he said to cover his stupidity.

"Oh. Yes, of course."

The three women nodded. It was pathetic the way they trusted him, Josh thought, and humbling too. Poor things, dependent on him. In all his life no one had ever had to depend on him. Take that back, he corrected. People had depended on him to handle their money back in Savannah. He had a simple life then but was too pig-headed to realize it. He ought to turn tail at first opportunity and go back, beg his father's forgiveness, and hope that Miss Hyacinth Meadows had found someone else to marry. Yep, that's what he'd do as soon as he had the women on their way and gotten his money and belongings from Clamerty.

Josh removed the black jacket. Already the air was warm and within another hour, it would be darnright hot. He scratched his whiskered chin, then crawled under the wagon to check on how the wheel was bolted on and then crawled out again and noticed it was fastened on the outside. No need for him to have crawled under the wagon at all. The women didn't seem to think his crawling under the wagon odd. They just gawked at him.

"Don't suppose you got anything like a wrench?"

"We got some tools," Marilee said. "Don't know which one's a wrench."

"Let's go take a look at 'em," Josh said. "How come you're not part of a wagon train?" Josh asked when he and Marilee headed to the small cart where the woman assured him the tools were kept.

"We were for a bit," Marilee said. "But some of them menfolk couldn't understand women wanting to keep to themselves."

"Oh."

"After a couple weeks of it, Miss Hetty decided we'd best try to manage on our own and left the train, and it worked pretty good until now." Marilee smiled and shook her head. "Our Miss Goodspell is one resourceful woman and she sure trusts in the Lord. Can't help but admire her and trust right along with her." Marilee rummaged around the cart, then asked, "Is this what you're looking for?"

Josh saw two wrenches, a screwdriver and a hammer. "This is it?"

Marilee nodded.

"Well, then, it'll have to do, and we'll have to trust in the Lord to help me do it."

"I knew you was a good man." Marilee beamed at him.

"A good man who don't know one thing about changing a wheel," Josh said softly.

"But you'll learn, won'tcha?"

"I'll need to replace the spokes, bend the rim back into shape, and somehow secure the wooden rim again. Don't suppose you've got any glue?"

"Not that I know of." Marilee scratched her head in thought.

Josh sighed. "Suppose I could try to make some outta sap, mixed with what?" He worked out his plans aloud as he walked with Marilee hanging on his every word. "Probably won't get it fixed today. Probably take a day or two to do it."

"But you'll do it," Marilee said with a smile. "I knew you would, and so did Miss Goodspell. You got ideas."

"No need for you ladies to stand watching," Josh said, as he fumbled with the wrench working to unbolt the wheel.

"You'll call us when you need the wagon lifted?" Harriet asked.

She stood before him, her hands folded at her waist, looking proper and cool in the increasing heat of the day. Her lips for once were relaxed--not pressed in the firm line she wore earlier. They were full, warm-looking lips, and Josh wet his own lips with his tongue. Did her lips feel as soft as they looked? Hell, what am I thinking? That biddy probably never kissed a man in her life, probably never even thought of it. Wouldn't even know how to pucker. What would she do if I kissed her right now?

"Mr. Crandal?" Harriet asked.

Josh came out of his stupor, but he felt hot and bothered.

"Are you unwell?" Harriet asked. "You look a bit flushed." Her eyes were filled with concern.

"I'm just fine, Miss Goodspell. I'll call you when I want you." When I want you. Damn it. I want you now. How can I want such a woman? Josh turned his eyes away form Miss Harriet Goodspell. You've been out in the desert too long. The heats got you, Joshua Blaines Crandal. No way do you want a woman like that uppity preacher-woman. Not so uppity, he corrected. Didn't she give you the ribbon off her bonnet?

Just then the wrench slipped and pounded Josh's thumb against the wheel. "Goddamn," he muttered, glad to see the preacher-lady wasn't still there watching him. Good. Pain. Keep my mind on my job and on my pain and away for subjects best dropped. He began working with a vengeance.

Josh finally got the nut off the bolt, and placed it carefully aside. Wouldn't do to lose the nut and bolt. Now if he could just get the wheel off without calling the women, he'd feel like a whole man again. He jiggled and slid the wheel little by little, easing it slowly from the axle. He gave it one final yank and fell with the wheel atop him, just as the three females came into view.

Instead of laughing at him as he felt sure they would, they expressed their appreciation.

"Lordy, you are a strong one," Rebecca said. "Got the wheel off all by yourself."

"Oh, Mr. Crandal, you should have called," Harriet said.

"See, you can do it," Marilee said, her lantern face grinning in a wide smile.

Josh righted himself and leaned the wheel against the sagging wagon. "I'll see if I can find a log or something to prop up the wagon. If I don't get the wheel repaired before nighttime you won't be able to sleep in the wagon the way it's tilted."

"You'd best have some lunch first," Harriet said.

"It's that time already?"

"Sun's directly overhead, Mr. Crandal. You'll want to wash up, I expect, but we'll be waiting for you." Harriet disappeared on the other side of the wagon again and Marilee followed after her.

"I brung you soap and a towel," Rebecca said. "Don't worry about gettin' the towel greasy, I'm starting a washin' now. Jest bring it back with ya."

Josh walked through the brush to the creek and scrubbed his hands and arms, dried himself, and then rolled down the Kelly green sleeves of his shirt. He knew he still looked an amusing sight in his green shirt and short tan trousers held up with Miss Harriet's black ribbon, but now that he removed the wheel by himself, he felt a bit cocky, more sure of himself than he had since he tumbled from the circus wagon.

"Ladies," he said, greeting all as they stood awaiting him.

Marilee ladled out some rattlesnake stew and Harriet passed more of the sourdough bread left over from the morning meal. Rebecca handed Josh a spoon and set out some butter in a crock that had been cooling in the stream.

"Thank Thee Lord for this food and for Mr. Crandal's help. With Thy blessing we shall reach our destination of Contention City before month's end," Harriet intoned.

All murmured, "Amen," before digging into the vittles.

"Tasty, Marilee," Harriet said.

"Um, yes," Rebecca agreed heartily.

"Best rattlesnake stew I ever et," Josh added, "And I'm glad I'm eating it, instead of that snake eating me."

The women chuckled appreciatively. Even Miss Hetty, Josh noted, and Harriet's lips looked less pinched at this meal. He thought he caught her giving him a furtive glance, but wasn't sure. When he looked fully at her, Harriet was concentrating on her meal, not him.

"There is a bit of coffee left from breakfast, Mr. Crandal," Harriet said. "You are most welcome to it, though it may be strong."

"Are you sure none of you--"

"We are quite certain, Mr. Crandal." Harriet spoke, looking prim and authoritative once more. "It is you who is performing the manual labor."

"With God's help," Josh couldn't help but add.

"Naturally," Harriet said, not taking offense. "All things come from Him."

Miss Goodspell looked so confident, so radiant when she spoke of her beliefs. Right now a flush spread to her cheeks, she almost looked girl-like and pretty. Her hazel eyes were veiled by her long, dark lashes. She looked not at Josh, but at her empty bowl of stew. Still not a strand of her chestnut hair was out of place but severely pulled back from her pale, oval face. For a moment all Josh could think of was pulling out the pins that confined those long tresses and running his hands through that virgin hair. He was certain everything about Harriet Goodspell was virgin. He stopped his thoughts. That is not a woman you want to wonder about, he told himself. Forget the feminine body you saw last night. It was probably a product of your over-active imagination. Look at her. No extra soft curves lie hidden there beneath those drab clothes. Harriet now pressed her lips firmly together and arose from the ground.

"I'll look around and see if I can find something to prop up the wagon," Harriet said. She had to get away by herself. For some reason, that man, Josh Crandal, made her feel warm when he studied her as he had just been doing. Did he think she could not tell he was staring? She felt the need for movement for distance from this stranger. Not the type of man she ever envisioned herself being attracted to. A gangling yokel in cast-off clothing too short and too broad for him. A circus clown. A poor excuse for a man. Yet, he was polite. His voice had a soft drawl that was pleasant to hear, and he was trying, God bless him, to fix their wheel. Harriet realized that the task was beyond his ken, but he tried.

Harriet walked away from the group, leaving her bowl and spoon in the dish basin. She would rinse her things later, but just now she had to walk. She strode up the river, more creek than river, she thought, but she had heard in times of rain the river rose mightily and flooded the desert. She hoped they would reach Contention City before such deluges occurred. She had been out alone in the desert with two other women for companions too long, she feared. She had become fanciful. She could not lose sight of her ambition, her direction, her will to save souls. Surely, she was meant for more than to save just one man's soul, wasn't she?

Well, she had Marilee and Rebecca. Mostly Marilee needed little saving, but Rebecca was a challenge. Rebecca was ready to lapse into her old ways. Harriet could feel it. She hoped it would not be with Mr. Crandal. Harriet shook her head. No, it would not be Josh Crandal. From all she observed, he was a decent sort. She hoped he was what he appeared. A harmless fool. A court jester in an orange and red clown's suit, with beguiling large blue eyes, eyes that looked at her with a dozen questions. Questions? Why questions? She considered herself an open and shut book, nothing about her to question. She was a disciple of God out to do good works, out to convert the heathen into a temple of God. But was that all she was? Wasn't she first a woman? A woman, the same as Eve, but she would never lead a man into temptation. She did not know one thing about how to do it in the first place.

The small stream was no longer beside her, Harriet realized. The sun had lowered, and she had not picked up one stick or branch, just lollygagging along with her jumbled thoughts. She had been walking in a trance, plodding on, not looking where she was heading, and now where was she? In another stand of cottonwoods, it seemed.

Harriet looked down. Ah, a nice log. Just the right size to prop up the wagon, she decided. She reached down to move the log and several lizards scurried away. She righted herself, only now realizing that it was hot outside and she had ambled a good way from the camp. How long had she walked? And how far? She had been going uphill, she now observed. She put her hand above her eyes, shielding them from he harsh sun and squinted. She saw a wisp of smoke from a fire in a stand of trees in the distance. She had walked that far? She reached for the log again. It was heavy. She could barely raise it. Had she wasted most of the day on a fool's errand? She pulled.

"It's too heavy for you."

Harriet dropped the log and froze. The voice came from behind her. Josh Crandal's voice.

"I'm sorry. Did I scare you?"

"How-- How'd you get here? Were you following me?"

"What daya mean?"

"I've walked and walked. I thought I was alone," Harriet babbled.

He chuckled. "Yeah. You did walk quite a while. A big circle. You're almost back at camp."

"Our camp?" She frowned in puzzlement. "I thought I saw smoke from our camp over yonder," she said pointing.

"Not us. Somebody else must be out there." Josh reached down and picked up the log.

Harriet could not help but admire the ease with which he raised the log. He was stronger than he looked.

"I kept my eye cocked for you. I know firsthand just how desolate it is out there and how easy it is to get lost."

"The smoke. Maybe it's your circus," Harriet said, not wishing to hear a commentary that she had been going around in circles.

Josh shrugged under the log he had hefted to his shoulder.

Harriet raced to keep up with Josh's long strides. "What are you going to do when you find the circus?"

"Dunno. 'Cept get back that what's mine. Clamerty had no reason to cheat me that way. He's got my clothes and my money and everything else I own."

"You won't resort to--to gunfire."

"Nope. Don't have a gun, Miss Goodspell."

"I hope you do recover your belongings, Mr. Crandal."

They came up beside the wagon and Josh dropped the log. "Why don't you call me Josh?"

"I'm not sure that's a good idea." Harriet backed away from him slightly.

"Rebecca and Marilee do and we're on first name basis. Don't seem to be hurting them much that I can see." Josh smiled at her, a nice smile showing his perfect teeth.

Harriet looked up at him as he towered above her. She felt she was a good-sized woman, but with Josh standing here so close, she felt small, feminine. "All right, Josh," she said feeling his name on her lips for the first time. Her voice changed when she said the word Josh. She heard it and he must have, also, as his eyes glinted for a moment.

"Thank you, Harriet."

"Thank you for what?" she asked in confusion.

"For finding the log. It looks like a dandy. Nice and sturdy. When the other women are finished with their chores, we'll try to slip it under to shore up the wagon."

"Yes," she said, not thinking of anything else to say. She kept hearing his lips say Harriet. Had his voice changed just a bit, too?

"The wheel's coming along fine. I found some sap. We'll try and see if it'll glue it somehow. Maybe we can use some of the cast-off clothes and wrap it around the spokes and rim to hold it along with the sap."

"Sap will work as glue?" Harriet asked.

"Don't know till we've tried it. Tomorrow, I'll begin hammering the rim back in shape."

"Let me know if there is anyway Rebecca, Marilee, or I can help."

Rebecca ambled up, carrying a small bucket and ladle. "Brung ya some water, Josh. Wish I had somethin' stronger fer ya."

"Like what?" Harriet asked, her brow puckering into a frown. Spirits were the Devil's instrument and forbidden.

"Like tea or coffee," Becky answered with a grin. "This man's been workin' awful hard, ma'am."

"How many days to Curtis Flats, do you figure?" Harriet asked.

Josh scratched his head in thought. "Maybe a week, week and a half after we get you on the road again."

"I suppose we could make some coffee tonight."

"That's kind of you, ma'am," Josh said, "But don't you go to any extra trouble on my account. You'll need your vittles for yourselves. As it is, I'm eating into your supply."

"It's the least we can do," Harriet said. "We won't make a habit of it, but let's brew some coffee tonight, Rebecca. Now, unless we can offer assistance in some way, we'll leave you to your work."

Josh took a long drink of water then handed the ladle back to Rebecca. "Thanks, Becky. You sure know the way to a man's heart. I was thirsty as all get-out."

Rebecca simpered, and swung her broad hips as she ambled away with the bucket.

Josh raised the log Harriet had found to a perpendicular position. Getting under the wagon would be tricky. It was too heavy for any of the women to slide while he raised the wagon. He put his hands on his slim hips as he glanced from the log to the wagon and back again. The log was a tad higher than the height of the wheel, but ought to do the trick to steady the wagon so the women could continue to sleep inside.

"Well, Mr. Crandal?" Harriet asked.

"Well, what?"

"You are going to have to let us women help. There's no way a man alone can wedge that log under the wagon's floor."

Harriet's mouth was set in that stubborn, firm line again, Josh noticed. Why hadn't she gone off with Becky so he could think a bit?

Josh rubbed his hand on his chin, stroking it. "Don't think you can move that log by yourself," he explained. "Maybe if I lift the wagon, you and Marilee between the two of you can place the log, while me and Becky use a little muscle to raise the wagon. Probably should have emptied some of the stuff outta the wagon before I took off the wheel," he muttered. "Hind sight is better than foresight."

"Or," Harriet said, "we three women could raise the wagon while you pushed the log under?"

Josh sighed, and dug his boot around in the soil for a moment. "Yep. Could try that too. You'd better get the women here and we'll try. Maybe one way'll work."

"I'm sure one will." Harriet walked around the wagon and found both women, and took them away from their chores, and returned with both in tow.

"First off," Josh said, making his voice sound like he knew what he was doing, "we're gonna have Marilee and Miss Harriet see if they can move the log. We're gonna brace up the wagon with the log, so you all will be able to sleep inside the wagon again. Harriet found a nice sturdy log and it ought to hold."

The three women nodded, but remained unmoving.

"Okay, go ahead, see if you can move it."

The women tugged but only edged it over a couple inches.

"Don't think Becky and I could hold up the wagon long enough for you two to shove the log under," Josh said. He admired the effort they made. "We're just gonna have to try and see if you three ladies can hoist up that tilting wagon long enough for me to wedge that log under."

The women started to put their backs to work.

"Just wait a bit till I get the log almost where I want it. Then when I say lift, you bend under the wagon and raise it. I'll show you how." Josh bent his back under the wagon's frame and pushed his shoulder's upward. The wagon rose a bit. "See, that's how you do it. Don't try to lift until I say the word. Just get ready."

Harriet, Rebecca, and Marilee went to the end of the wagon prepared to do battle. Josh got down on his knees and pushed the log as far as he could before yelling, "Lift!"

The women grunted, strained, and the wagon lifted just long enough for Josh to wedge the log under.

"We did it! Praise the Lord," Harriet said, her face beaming in satisfaction and with perspiration giving her a certain glow.

"Praise the Lord," Marilee echoed.

"Alleluia!" Rebecca shouted.

"Mighty good piece of work," Josh admitted with a grin. "Didn't think you'd be able to do it."

"All things are possible with God's help," Harriet said, "and with yours, Mr. Crandal."

"Josh," he reminded her.

Chapter Three

"Tarnation!" he cried. "You ain't got no business in a place like Contention. How many times do I have to tell you that?"

"No need for you to tell me that at all," Harriet said. Her voice was low and steady, her stance and attitude unruffled. "That's where we are heading."

"You'll need to find someone else to take you there," Josh said. Couldn't the woman look a bit het up? Couldn't she at least pretend what he thought mattered?

"I don't think I've asked you to take us there, Mr. Crandal."

"Josh." Did he have to keep reminding her to call him Josh?

"Josh," she echoed softly. Her eyes gazed into his steadily, except for a slight drop when she said his name. "We have no wish to keep you any longer than we need, and we do appreciate all your help."

Before he could think of anything else to say, Hetty walked away with head held high, a stiff back, and a firm stride.

Rebecca shrugged, and then followed after Harriet.

Fool cantankerous female. Just when he had begun to think she might have possibilities she turns stubborn fool again. Women like her in Contention City! Those millers would have her for breakfast. They didn't respect women. Wouldn't know a lady if they saw one, and one thing was sure, Harriet Goodspell was his mother's idea of a real lady. Not a simpering snippet like Hyacinth Meadows, but a lady, nonetheless. Josh kicked at a stone just to vent his feelings. Is there another female quite like Harriet Goodspell? Hetty. Does another female smell as good as Harriet Goodspell? She always smells so nice and fresh, and God knows she doesn't get daily baths. Yet, she always appears clean and dainty. And determined. God Almighty, she is one determined woman. Don't the people in other towns need to hear the words of the Lord? Why is Contention City so all-fired important?

Josh stamped around a bit, just to vent the frustration from his system. Then he walked to the edge of the tiny oasis they called camp and looked out at the horizon. To the east, he saw dust rise. Maybe a posse, maybe Indians, maybe a wagon train or even the cavalry. He hoped it might be a wagon train heading this way. One that the ladies could hook up with, one that'd take 'em away from Contention. He sighed. It was none of his business what the three women did. One was just as loony as the other. All three determined to bring religion to the mill workers of Contention City.

He returned to the wagon. Josh checked on the spokes he tried his best to mend. They had been treated with a healthy dose of sap and flour and bound tightly with torn men's trousers. He had pulled the one pair of trousers into two-inch strips and wound the strips around the spokes and then put more of the sap-flour paste over that. With the desert heat, the paste seemed to be drying. Only time would tell if the stuff would hold the spokes together for any duration. He wiped his brow with his arm then took a deep breath. Something coming from the campfire smelled awful good. He felt saliva form in his parched throat. Couldn't do anymore today, he thought and carefully set aside the meager supply of tools, the bolts and nuts to be used tomorrow. He trotted down to the stream, looked around to make sure he was alone and slipped out of his clothes for a good wash.

Josh hunkered down in the shallow water. He sighed with bliss. Bliss, that was the name of the new town, he thought. He had heard several families had started a small settlement. Farmers, mainly, but what anyone could possibly farm in this arid terrain was beyond his ken. Yes, that was a fertile valley. He remembered tall grass blowing in the breeze. A pretty picture. Maybe they could farm there, grow fruits and vegetables. Even he'd heard that the big desert in Africa had oases where things grew.

Maybe that's what Bliss was, an oasis in the desert, one a hell of a lot bigger then this tiny one. Up in the foothills a bit. He'd have to look into it and somehow head Harriet in that direction. By now, Bliss might be a going community with stores and a church. A town where someone like Miss Hetty might be welcome.

Fool, it's not up to you to guide Harriet Goodspell's footsteps. As soon you've got them going, you are leaving. Josh nodded his head in the affirmative. He wet himself thoroughly again in the cool water, and then stood up and headed toward his clothes.

By the time he had walked the few feet needed, the hot arid air had dried him completely. He stepped into his drawers and trousers, tied the black ribbon belt, and shrugged into his Kelly green shirt. He wished his clothes were as clean as he, but it could not be helped. If he had been alone and not with a pack of women, he would have rinsed his things in the water and dried them on a rock and walked around buck naked until his duds were dry. But he was not alone, and did not intend to wander alone again in the desert like he had when he was been kicked off Clamerty's wagon. Josh knew he had been lucky not to have perished. Working on that wheel seemed little to pay for having grub and companionship, even if it did include Bible reading. Miss Hetty. Harriet. Josh wondered if he'd ever feel comfortable calling Harriet Hetty. Hetty sounded less formidable to Josh. Softer. No, don't think about Miss Harriet Goodspell's softness. It was just your imagination. And don't you look toward that wagon after the women go to bed, he cautioned himself, never again.

The following morning Josh worked some more at rounding the rim of the wheel. He started as soon as the sun woke him, and had put in an hour before he was summoned to breakfast.

"My, you got an early start," Rebecca said as she ambled by with a pail to get water from the creek.

"No use having idle hands when the sun's up and I'm awake," he muttered.

Rebecca nodded. "That's what Miss Hetty always says. You two thinks alike."

"Humph," Josh muttered.

"Oh, Josh, I think somethin's wrong with our cow," Marilee wailed shortly after. She rung her hands and her ordinarily cheerful face was puckered with a frown. "Bessie's amoanin' like she's in pain. Do you know anything about cows?"

"'Bout as much as I do of fixing wheels."

"You are fixing the wheel."

"Didn't know you had a cow," Josh said. "Haven't seen any fresh milk."

"A man sold us this cow, and wouldn't you know our luck, it doesn't produce any milk. Hetty made a bum trade there, all right," Marilee grumbled. "I suggested to Hetty that we butcher Bessie. She's nice and fat, ought to make some good roasts." As thin as Marilee was she usually thought in terms of food. "Maybe we waited too long to butcher her as it is, the way Bessie's carrying on. Do you mind takin' a look?"

Josh stood up and set his hammer down. From the way Marilee looked and was rambling on, the cow must be in a bad state. He followed after Marilee. Josh had not been near the animals. The animals were Marilee's domain and up to now, she asked for no help with their tending.

Harriet stood by the cow and petted the animals face, talking in a soothing tone. "There, there, Bessie. You'll be all right, old girl."

Josh took his first look at the women's cow, placed his hands on his hips and asked, "Is she bloated or is she having a calf?"

"A calf?" both Harriet and Marilee asked, and turned to look again at the cow.

The cow chose that moment to fall on the ground and emit a large bellow.

"I never thought of that," Harriet said.

Marilee stood bug-eyed looking from Bessie to Josh.

"Don't s'pose you would have," Josh said softly. He felt the animal's stomach and looked Bessie over the best he could. "I think she's calving, all right."

"Praise the Lord," Harriet said.

"I thought she was getting fat," Marilee said, "and wondered at it, as she's been getting so much exercise walking like we've been for so long."

"I wonder what we can do for her? To help her, that is," Harriet said.

Josh chuckled. "Most likely, nothing. Most cows just have their young'uns by themselves, don'tcha know?"

"She's been off her feed the last day or so," Marilee said.

"I think it's best we leave her to herself, but check on her from time to time," Josh said, and the women looked at him as if he had spoken words of wisdom.

"Breakfast is near ready," Marilee said.

The trio started toward the campfire. Harriet turned back once, but Josh prodded her along. "Some things must be done alone. If Bessie has a hard time, I'll pull the little one out."

"Oh, thank you, Mr. Crandal," Harriet said.

"Josh."

"Yes, Josh." Harriet placed her hand on his left arm.

Josh felt like a white-hot poker branded him at her touch. It was a wondrous feeling, pleasant giving him tingly sensations, yet somehow forbidden. He reached to place his right hand on hers, but she removed her hand as quickly as she had touched him.

"You've helped at a birth?"

Josh nodded. "With my b-- dog." He almost said bitch, but changed his wording. "Lady had a rough time, that once." He shrugged. "Can't be that much different, only the babe is bigger with a cow."

"You are a kind man," Harriet said softly. "Well, we'd best have our breakfast." She took on a more businesslike attitude. "Would you like a cup of coffee while we get the pancakes ready, Josh?"

Josh couldn't help the smile that formed on his lips when she spoke his name without prodding from him. "I'd like that, Hetty."

After the Bible reading and breakfast, all four walked back to where Bessie and the two mules usually grazed under a scrawny cottonwood tree, about fifty feet from where the creek meandered.

Bessie was on her feet again and a small calf suckled at her side.

"Praise the Lord," Harriet said, beaming a broad smile. "It appears you were right, Mr. Crandal--Josh."

"Well, you'll have fresh milk now, Marilee." Josh grinned. "Aren't you glad you didn't butcher Bessie?"

Marilee shook her head. "What a dunce I am. Well, I guess you didn't make such a bad bargain after all, Miss Hetty."

"I couldn't let the animal stay with that man. All his critters looked so scrawny and poor, and Bessie looked at me with those brown eyes of hers, just begging me to save her."

"What'd you give for her?" Josh asked.

"A bag of cornmeal and a plow," Harriet answered.

"Could use a plow to set up a garden once we get settled," Rebecca said.

"God will provide," Harriet answered. "I'd thought the cow would produce milk for us while we traveled, but Bessie was bone dry."

"A cow has to have a calf before she can be milked," Josh said.

"Well, I just thought all cows gave milk," Harriet said with a smile. "We didn't have any cows. My father was a preacher, not a farmer." She looked at Josh and said. "The plow was rather heavy and made an extra burden for the mules to pull, and the cow could walk, so it seemed a good exchange to me, only I had thought we'd have milk on the trail."

"You got it now," Josh said.

"But the calf--" Harriet began.

"Be enough milk for the calf and us, I should think. Any of you ever milked a cow?" he asked.

All three shook their heads in the negative.

"I didn't think it could be very hard to do," Harriet said. "I've heard even children on farms milk cows."

"I'll show you," Josh said, "but not just now." He walked up to Bessie and her calf and patted the cow's rump and walked around her talking gentle, telling the animal what a fine young one she produced, and then pet the offspring.

Marilee nodded approval of the way Josh treated the pair of animals. "Our clown is a fine man," Marilee said. "A good man."

"Yes, he is," Harriet agreed.

"Nice, strong, strappin' man," Rebecca added. "Without them clothes on, he looks mighty good."

"What?" Harriet exclaimed.

"I happened to see him a-takin' a bath in the stream yesterday," Rebecca answered.

"Becky!" Harriet was shocked. "You saw him unclothed?!"

"Naked as the day he was born."

"I hope you turned away at once."

Rebecca smiled, but said, "Of course I did, ma'am, but I got a look afore I did."

Marilee giggled. "I bet you did."

"Well, we'd best be back to our work," Harriet said brusquely. She felt very warm and suspected she'd been in the bright sun too long. "It's very warm," she murmured.

Becky smirked. "I feel a tad hot myself."

Marilee nudged Rebecca with her elbow.

"We'll be getting back to our work," Harriet called to Josh.

"Before you do, come here and stroke the calf and tell Bessie what a good job she did," Josh said.

"You go," Marilee said to Harriet. "Me and Becky'll make our introductions later." Marilee took hold of Rebecca by her arm and pulled Becky with her, back to the campsite.

"Well, come on, Hetty." Josh smiled as he watched the two other women leave. "The little one's gotta be named. You've got to give thought to that, and ya got to meet her to do that."

"It's a female then?"

"Nice a little heifer as anyone'd want to see."

Harriet gingerly walked up beside the cow, and knelt down beside the calf. "She is a beauty, isn't she?"

"That she is. Nothing's as sweet as a newborn. Back home, I used to love to watch the colts with the mares."

"You had horses then?"

"A few. And cows. We lived on the edge of town and had some land. A few chickens. Enough to keep us in eggs and milk."

"Do you miss your home?" Hetty looked from the heifer she stroked to Josh as he spoke of his youth.

He shrugged. "Sometimes. Mostly, I don't think of it. But sometimes, like now, seeing a newborn calf, the sweet smell of fresh milk, makes one remember another time."

"We didn't have animals. Pa was too busy with church, tending his flock of parishioners to have time for any farming." Hetty sighed. "But I hope to have time for a little farm besides preaching. We'll see what the Lord thinks is best for me."

Josh hated to break the nice mood, but he had to say, "I don't think God means for you to go to Contention City."

"Well, now, how are you privy to what God means for me?" she asked, her eyes flashing.

He smiled, liking the spark of what he saw, the fiery eyes, the pink cheeks, as she stood up to face him. "Guess I don't know anymore of His intentions then you do, Hetty." He took her hand then dropped it quickly, not wanting to get too familiar, not knowing what came over him to want to touch her hand. Hell, he wanted more than that. He wanted to press that unrelenting body close to his, to make her eyes flash with yearning for him.

"Well, I'd best get back to work on the wheel." He took off before the urge took complete possession of him. Must be too much of that dang sun to make him feel like that, he decided as he hotfooted it toward the wagon.

Harriet looked after the man. What he'd said was true. She didn't know what God had planned for her. She only knew what she must do and hoped it was what the Creator intended. She sighed. Why had she been destined to meet Joshua Blaines Crandal? It must have been destiny. How else could two such different people meet in the middle of nowhere? She wished she could divine the reason. She also wished she knew why Josh took up so much of her thoughts. Why just now when he had taken her hand for just a moment she felt tingly and like a red hot poker had branded her? She shook her head. Her whole vision of the future started to blur, but she resolved not to be swayed from her original purpose of bringing God to heathens, to miners and mill workers who thought only of riches for the body and not of riches for the soul.

She put her finger under the cow's udder and felt a drop of milk. She brought her finger to her mouth and licked the drop. Harriet smiled. How wonderful the world was! Even here in the parched desert, new life was born. Just look at the beautiful calf! Beauty. That's what she'd name the new member of the family that traveled across this barren land. Then she smiled wider. All of the animals' names began with a B. Bessie, Brunhilda, Bertha, and now Beauty. Yes, that's what she'd name the calf because life was beautiful and so was the baby cow. Life was hard, but beauty need not always come easily, and there was beauty even in this land. Though the earth was parched and brown, the sky overhead stretched for miles and miles, a perfect cobalt blue, as blue as Josh Crandal's eyes. Oh, dear.

Harriet placed her hands on her hips. She needed to get to work. Mustn't let her mind wander as it had, glorying in the beauty of the desert. Thinking of the desert's beauty was all right, but to let those thoughts divert to Josh was another matter. She blushed thinking now of Becky's seeing Mr. Crandal without garments on his body, and she quickly turned her mind away from that vision, and Becky's obvious gloating. Without that much work to do, stranded as they now were waiting for the wheel's repair, their minds had too much idle time. She decided to schedule an extra prayer and Bible time. Becky needed the diversion, and so do you Harriet Goodspell. Harriet knew she needed it most of all.

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