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Prologue

1855 Adler Creek, Wyoming:

"Marry you? You want me to marry you?" Christina Jeffers laughed without humor. "You don't seriously mean..." her laughter becoming hardier, "...you think I'd marry you?"

"That's generally where a courtship leads, Christina," Brett Parker said, stunned at her rejection.

"Oh Brett, you sweet man. Yes, generally it does, but I can't marry you."

"Why the hell not?" Brett Parker asked.

Stopping her laughter for only a moment, Christina told him, "Brett, look in the mirror...you're half Cheyenne. I couldn't possibly marry an Indian let alone a dirty half-breed."

Refusing to show the hurt he felt at her answer, Brett stood and pulled himself up to his full six feet four inches. Drawing in a deep breath, he looked down at the petite blond sitting before him. It took all his control not to wring her lily white neck when he answered, "And here I thought giving a whore a proper name was worth my time."

He caught Christina's hand a second before it would have connected with his jaw. "I am not a whore!"

"No? Then what do you call a woman who spreads her legs for any man who happens by?"

"I'm better than you, Brett Parker. I'm white, all white. You can only try to pass. No self-respecting woman is going to marry you. Maybe I have slept with a few men here and there...it's not like a crime for a widow to take a lover, you know. But I'm no whore."

"No, Christina, you aren't better than me. You aren't better than anyone."

He stepped away from her. As he grabbed his coat, she called after him, "Brett, just because I won't marry you doesn't mean we can't carry on."

"What?" He knew his surprise at her statement showed clearly on his face.

"Well, until I find a decent white man to marry, I don't see why I can't have you in my bed...that's all any of the women want with you, Brett--your body and your money. I thought you knew that. You may as well give your body to me because I don't need your money."

Drawing on a lifetime of control, Brett walked out the door, taking care not to slam it lest the depraved woman on the other side know just how angry and hurt he was by her comments.

He controlled his gait, making sure his strides did not change from the length he normally took. Clenching his hands, he forced himself to lose the image of choking Christina with them and to let his arms hang loose. He knew he was half-white, half-Indian and so did the entire town of Adler Creek. Everyone accepted him for who he was--a deputy sheriff, and because of his father's business acumen, a fairly well to do rancher--but most importantly, a self-made man. Yeah, a self-made man who isn't good enough for any woman to marry. Despite how his father fought for Brett to be treated as an equal, despite how hard Brett tried himself, it was clear the old prejudices were alive and well in Christina Jeffers. Vowing to never again become involved with a woman, especially a white woman, it took all his effort to stride past the saloon. He walked on to the sheriff’s office where his life long friend and boss, Rick Hansen, sat behind his desk reading the local paper.

"Thought you wanted tonight off to take care of some personal business," the blond-haired, green-eyed sheriff greeted his deputy. His smile quickly faded when he saw Brett's face. "You want to tell me what happened?"

"No."

"You want me to buy you a drink?" he asked while opening a desk drawer and pulling out a bottle of whiskey.

"No."

"Okay, then we'll sit here and talk."

Brett ran his fingers through his collar-length black hair. He'd worn it long in his younger days, but now, as a deputy sheriff, he felt it important to be as white as possible. Drawing in a deep breath, he paced back and forth across the room, forcing himself to slowly exhale. He finally came to stop in front of Rick's desk. "I asked Christina Jeffers to marry me."

"You did?" his surprise at Brett's actions evident in his tone. "And?"

"And she said no...she didn't just say no, she threw it in my face that I'm a half-breed. She said no self-respecting woman would ever want to marry me."

"Well that's just one stupid bitch's opinion." Rick slouched back in his chair, causing it to creak with the movement, his Nordic ancestry evident in his broad shoulders and heavily muscled body.

"No. No, it's not. She said some hateful things, but Rick, they were true. She said that women only bothered with me for my money...not because I'm someone they could...love..."

"She's just one woman...one woman who has slept with half the men in this town. You're better than her and if she can't see that, it's her problem, not yours."

"Yeah, well it will be a cold day in hell before I put myself out like that again."

Chapter One

March 1860:

Twenty-one-year-old Jennifer Matthews stood at the entry to the parlor that held the coffin of her dear father. She needed to be strong today. She needed to withhold the tears that had flown so freely the last few days. The smell of the flowers and death barely registered through her grief. Today she'd cried no tears, but the rims of her eye lids showed the heartbreak the young woman had endured the past few days. Why, Papa? Why did you take your life? Why did you leave me? And why did you leave me in Julian Carlman's hands?

Oh, she knew the answer to her last question. Julian was her mother, Dorothy's, brother, and when she was first born he had persuaded her mother to make him little Jennifer's guardian should anything happen to her and her husband, William. However, the news of this guardianship only became known to Jennifer with her father's passing. Why he killed himself, she would never know. Yes, there was a note that he could no longer live without his beloved wife. But it didn't add up because just days before he had told Jennifer he was considering courting Myra Holcolm, the widow of one of his associates. He seemed so young, so delighted at the prospect, especially when Jennifer told him she was pleased for him. And she genuinely was. More than anything Jennifer wanted her dear papa to be happy and for as happy as her parents were, her mother had been dead several years. It was time for her papa to find a new wife.

William Matthews had been a successful attorney in New York City, providing his beloved wife and daughter with not only a plush mansion to live in, but a staff of servants to provide whatever assistance they would require. He ensured Jennifer had the best education available to a young woman, even hiring tutors for the more advanced studies that most women did not indulge in.

Dorothy was a petite woman, delicate in stature and health. Jennifer was her greatest gift. After trying for many years to conceive and birth a healthy and living child, the Matthews had all but given up. It was much to their surprise and joy little Jennifer was born.

While not entirely certain of Julian's ethics and values, William could deny his wife nothing and agreed to allow her brother to stand in as godfather to their little bundle of joy. According to Dorothy, Julian just seemed to run into bad incident after bad incident, but he would truly care for little Jennifer should something befall them. At one time William thought he'd heard some discussion about Julian's business dealings and that he manipulated people to get his way with never a care of who got hurt in the process.

And, with their charmed life, what could happen? Hadn't she delivered Jennifer even though the doctors had said she would never carry a child to term? Having Julian made godfather was just a formality.

Growing up, Jennifer never doubted her parents' love. They doted on her like no child had ever been so doted on. Yet she was not spoiled and, at her father's insistence, she had been well educated and taught to stand on her own two feet. While her mother ranted that Jennifer would never make a good wife with all her independent ways, William held firm in his belief that some independence would serve his dear daughter well.

Standing now in the parlor, Jennifer reflected on how, as a child, she had loved the parlor--with its comfy chairs, its pretty lamps, the crystal candy dish her mother had kept filled for her--but that only her father would let her have the yummy butterscotch candies from. The room's wide windows overlooking the park had been a favorite place to sit and read and dream. But since her mother's death six years ago--had it really been six years? She hated the room.

Her mother had always been so full of life, or so that was what her father had told her. He would tell Jennifer how lucky she had been to have Dorothy as her mother. Then suddenly, without any warning, she was gone--a tragic carriage accident. What seemed so odd about it was that just a day or two before, her father had the carriage checked over and it was fine, in perfect condition.

Fortunately Dorothy had left Jennifer home that day or Jennifer herself may have died as well. From the day her mother was laid into the coffin and placed in the parlor Jennifer hated the room. In fact, until today, she had not set foot in it since her mother's funeral. And now her father had joined her mother. With revulsion, Jennifer relived that horrid night three nights ago when she returned home to the quiet house and found her father dead, having taken his own life.

"Father? Father?" Jennifer rushed in, exhilarated with the news she had to share with him. Addison Hawthorne had proposed marriage and was going to arrange to talk to her father that very night, to ask for her hand.

"Father! Where are you?" She would normally find him in the library, but the room appeared dark. He usually returned home from work at his firm and would sequester himself in there till dinner, only to return for hours after the evening meal. Ever since her mother's death, he'd buried himself in there night after night. But tonight the room was dark and he didn't answer. Spying their housekeeper, Judith, she hurried over. "Did my father send word he would be late?"

"No, Jennifer dear, not a word."

Sighing she looked about the foyer. "I wonder what would keep him that he wouldn't at least send a note?" She moved towards the library door and in the dim light cast from the hallway saw her father's form lying across the desk.

"Father? Father?" She approached with Judith close behind her. "Father?" As Judith turned the lights up, Jennifer first gasped and then screamed. Her father was indeed sitting in his chair, but his head lay on the desk not in repose, but in a pool of blood. When the doctor came, he advised it appeared to be a self-inflicted gunshot wound. He assured Jennifer that William had died instantly and felt no pain.

No pain? No pain? But what about my pain? Oh Father!

A note had been found beneath his body. Amid ink and blood stains were incoherent words that spoke of her mother and how desperately he missed her. He missed his beloved wife so much he took his life and left Jennifer to fend for herself.

Her Uncle Julian came early the next day. He asserted that even though she was twenty-one, he still needed to stand in as her guardian. After all, he had promised her parents before God and man when he became her godfather that he would care for her as if she was his own.

Now she shuddered at the thought of the man. From her earliest memory of him she was revolted by his mere presence. There seemed something unclean about Julian. She would try to tell herself it was how he slicked back his dark hair, making it appear as if he wore oil, or that it was the dank smell of his clothes. Yet inside Jennifer knew it was the man himself she cringed from. How he could have been related to her mother was beyond comprehension. As a little girl she couldn't avoid his touches, done in the name of "loving" his little niece. She rejoiced as she grew older and managed to avoid even being in his company. And now, now with her father's death he'd been appointed her guardian. A chill moved through Jennifer that had nothing to do with her father's death or the weather. Like a premonition of horrors to come from that man...her uncle Julian.

Uncle Julian. Her stomach turned at the thought of him. He always seemed to her to be a disgusting, vile man who touched her in ways she did not want to be touched. In front of her parents he acted with proper decorum, but as soon as their backs were turned he would pat her bum, her 'boopie' as he called it. When she was older and her breasts began to develop, he'd grab her and whisper that she had "a lovely boopie and lovelier boobies" and would laugh his lewd laugh at his own sick humor. In front of her parents he would give her a proper kiss on the cheek and pat the top of her head. And again, when her parents would not see he would place his lips on hers. On her thirteenth birthday he tried to stick his tongue in her mouth. Even now the thought of such an invasion turned her stomach. When Addison kissed her it was short, sweet, on her cheek and only on occasion her lips. He never tried to use his tongue on her.

When she turned fourteen she tried to tell her mother, but Dorothy insisted her dear brother Julian would never behave so inappropriately. Jennifer redoubled her efforts to avoid the disgusting man. And now...now as her guardian he could control her life. Now she was being forced to go live with him. Somehow she'd manage to avoid his advances; somehow she'd maintain her dignity...and her virtue...around him.

What she didn't understand was the way he pushed her to sign papers, legal papers he said, almost as soon as he arrived. The man didn't give her a moment to grieve her lost parent. The way he rushed her through it, pushing page after page in front of her, telling her that her father wouldn't, couldn't, be properly buried unless every one of them were signed before the mortician arrived. The condescending way he had patted her on the head when she tried to ask about them...well better her head than any other part of her body. And now he was forcing her to go to his home in Maryland with him. Her family had never visited there. Whenever Papa suggested they go, Julian would have a reason why it was not a good time. By the same token, when Julian visited, he would regale them with stories of all the treasures and riches in the house.

"Well, Jennifer my dear, I hope you have packed what you will need for the short term...until we can have the rest of your belongings sent for. I'll have my solicitors take care of putting this house and its contents on the market."

"No, Uncle Julian, I don't want to go with you or sell my home. I intend to remain here." She fought for calm and strength, telling herself if her words sounded strong they would be enough to protect her.

"I'm afraid that's not possible my dear, your father's Will specifically stated that should he pass before your twenty-fifth birthday I shall remain your guardian and administer your Trust. Your future is in my hands, so to speak, and I believe it best if I remove you from here and you put this all behind you."

Into his hands. He certainly had tried her entire life to get her in his hands. Living with him for the next four years would be a slice of the hell the minister spoke about every Sunday. There had to be another way, there just had to.

With her father barely cold and in the ground beside her mother, Julian rushed them to the train station. Jennifer hardly had a moment to say goodbye to the household staff before Julian practically dragged her out of the house. She'd wanted to assure them of good references and pensions, however Julian cut her off and whispered in her ear it had been taken care of. That in and of itself would have been fine, except the letch had stuck his tongue in her ear just as he finished speaking. He seemed to grow more disgusting with each passing day.

As the miles from New York to Maryland passed, Jennifer wondered how she would survive the next four years with the odious man. What could she do to escape him and whatever nefarious plans he had in mind for her? And reprehensible plans they would be if she knew anything about her Uncle Julian. For all his smiles and pretended warmth, all one need do was look into his eyes and know there was not a sincere bone in his body.

Chapter Two

April 1860:

Julian's House—Maryland:

Arriving in Maryland with her Uncle Julian three short days after her father's funeral, Jennifer Matthews looked forward to a respite to contemplate the changes her life had taken. She'd hoped for some peace on the train to Maryland, but that was not meant to be. He'd procured a sleeper car for her which at first, she appreciated. She had just begun to slip into sleep's escape, the clickity clack of the train on the tracks relaxing her, when Julian tried to enter the compartment. Fortunately she'd tied a sash around the door knob, barring his entry. It took considerable effort on her part, but throughout the trip she'd managed to avoid Julian's constant attempts to touch her.

And it wasn't him just taking her arm like any gentleman would; no, his arm would rub against her breast or his hand would stray to her fanny. His arm would snake around her shoulders, and she would turn at the thought of his foul breath near her face. He was disgusting. From his oily black hair, to his smelly cigars, to his lewd actions, he was just intolerable. Jennifer had no where to turn, no one to turn to. Perhaps here, she thought, in his house, he would stop the constant attempts to paw at her...but it wasn't to be.

"I had the lavender room set up for you, my dear," he told her as he escorted her upstairs in his rather ostentatious house. "I hope you will be comfortable here and once we sell off your father's house, there will be plenty of money to change it any way you wish."

She gave him a sharp look at his reference to the sale of her home...her home. He had changed his approach a bit. "What I meant, my dear, is that I have plenty of money available. I only thought that in your own bid for independence you would want to pay your own way where you can. You see? It would allow you to start taking responsibility for your financial situation. Of course, I will always be available to guide you." His hand lingered a bit too long and a bit too low on her back as he showed her into the room.

"It's lovely Uncle, it truly is a lovely room."

"Good! I'm glad you like it. And, my dear, should you need anything, my rooms are just through here." He walked to one of the doors in the room and pulled it open to reveal an opulent, yet garish bedroom. A red satin spread covered the massive four-poster bed. Rich black carpets covered the room, and heavy red velvet drapes covered the windows. Even though she had never been in one, Jennifer had heard descriptions, whispers from friends who knew someone who had been to one and as she looked at the room, the word "bordello" came to mind. Yes, her uncle's room looked like a bordello.

Despite her revulsion at sleeping so close to him, Jennifer managed to force out a "Thank you for your concern," before turning away and telling him, "I am a bit tired from the trip and would like to refresh myself and perhaps nap a bit if you don't mind?"

"Of course, my dear, I'll have Antoinette, the housemaid, come wake you in time for dinner. We dine at six-thirty here."

"Thank you." She waited for him to leave and when he continued to stand there, his lingering gaze directed mainly at her breasts, she was at a loss as to what to do. Finally the events of the past week came to the fore and she boldly told him, "If you would leave now Uncle, I'll take that nap."

Julian smiled, though the movement of his lips sliding back on his teeth more resembled a leer or a grimace, she wasn't sure which, and left the room.

Dinner was both a trying and tiring affair. Jennifer tried to tell herself that her father had not betrayed her by leaving Julian as her guardian, and being here with the odious man was for the best, but her uncle completely turned her stomach. He leered at her during dinner, and under the table he continually pressed his knee against hers. When the meal finally ended, Jennifer announced, "If you don't mind, I'd like to look through your library, see if a book catches my eye, and retire early. I'm quite tired and the past few days have worn me out."

"Of course, my dear." This was his favorite phrase, and he said it like he was going to eat her for his next meal.

One thing Jennifer could say about Julian's library--it was massive and one of the best she had ever seen. Better even than the one at home--or what had been her home. She quickly chose a volume, not because it appealed to her, but because she wanted to get away from Julian and have a moment's peace. She went up to her room and read for a short time before nodding off to sleep. But a peaceful night's sleep wasn't to be...it seemed she had only closed her eyes before a creak woke her. There, the sound again, like someone moving in her room...and a low light crept through the doorway...the doorway to her uncle's room!

"Uncle Julian?"

No answer.

"Uncle Julian, are you unwell?"

He approached the bed, and Jennifer saw a garish red velvet robe loosely belted with two skinny legs peeking out the bottom.

"Uncle Julian, if you are unwell tell me and I will send for the doctor."

"Oh I'm quite well my dear, quite well." His hand moved to caress her cheek as he slid to sit on the bed. "I just thought how sad for you to sleep alone on your first night here."

"I'm fine, Uncle. I've slept alone for years."

"Ah, but no more my dear, no more. I know you will want to earn your keep in some way and show your appreciation to me for taking you in, and I believe I have found the ideal way." He climbed further onto the bed and shifted to lie next to her. Jennifer gasped and tried to pull away from him but he anticipated her move and grabbed her.

"Oh no, my dear, no running now. Perhaps in time it will be a fun game to play, but not now, not tonight, I want this to be special for us both."

Afraid of what he meant and suspecting it was worse than she could imagine she tried to shove away from him.

"Dear, dear Jennifer, I don't want to hurt you--the first time will hurt enough, but I will try to make it as pleasant as possible--for both of us."

His low laugh turned her stomach. First time for what? Jennifer began to struggle as Julian slid his hands up her arms. Suddenly, he grabbed her hair at the nape of her neck with one hand, holding her firmly in place, while his other hand groped for her breast. The delight in his voice was evident in his chuckle as he squeezed the globe. "So firm, so plump. Yes my dear, you will be an excellent bed partner and who knows, in time perhaps we can make other arrangements, with my friends, so you can pay your debt to me even faster."

Friends? Arrangements? What is Uncle Julian... He was going to rape her! Jennifer felt her mind shutting down as the realization of what this man--her uncle--the man her parents had blindly trusted to take care of her was going to rape her!

She had to distract him, she had to stop his assault. "Debt? What debt?"

"Why the one you owe me, Jennifer dear."

She continued shoving against him and through gritted teeth told him, "I don't know what you are talking about."

"Jennifer, Jennifer, taking a young woman into my home is no easy matter. I will need to hire you a personal maid, pay for your food, clothes..."

"I have plenty of clothes."

"Oh my dear, not the kind you need, not the kind I want to see you in." All the while his hands kept groping and grabbing at her, stroking her breasts until she squirmed away from him which prompted him to move to touching her derriere. It didn't take long until she realized her movements, her struggles to avoid him, excited him even more. His breathing changed from his attempt at whispered seduction to excited panting. His mouth seemed to have an over-abundance of moisture as he tried to kiss her.

Self-preservation took over and Jennifer began to struggle in earnest until she realized her continued struggles only excited him more. She had to do something--she had to get away.

Seeming to anticipate her rising panic, Julian laughed, "Now you can scream if you like, but the household won't answer--I've already told them you are both wild and demanding--and they certainly won't do anything to interfere with the master of the house. One of the advantages of indentured servants and slaves is they don't disagree with anything the master wants. Best you learn that, my dear, best you learn that, because you are little more than that. You belong to me now and I will care for you as I see fit."

His hands tore at her night shift rending it in two. She felt something wet strike her breast and realized he had drooled on her. My God, the man is so excited he's drooled on me! Then suddenly his hands were everywhere, her breasts, her hair, between her legs, poking and prodding until she began to scream. Instead of causing the letch to stop his attack it served to increase his delight in forcing himself on her. He is insane! Oh Father what have you done to me?

Panic overrode common sense and Jennifer began to grope around her, feeling for something, anything, to stop his assault. His excited panting increased and the smell from his mouth was worse than usual; his hands were cold and clammy as he groped her where ever he could. Somehow her hand fell on the bedside lamp. It was a good sized lamp, but she managed to lift it and in a moment brought it down on his head. With a grunt he slumped and lay unmoving on the bed. She shoved him off her and stared in horror at the blood pouring from his head.

"Uncle Julian?" She reached to shake his shoulder and when she had no response she called to him again. "Uncle Julian?"

Jennifer stood staring in horror at the man's body lying before her. No, not just a man...it was her Uncle Julian, and she'd killed him. She knew no one would believe her. He was too well established here in Maryland, and no matter how badly he may have treated his staff, they would have no reason to support her side of the story. After all, hadn't he told them that she was a willing participant in whatever relationship he had planned for them? Mentally shaking herself she softly called out, "Uncle Julian?"

When there was no answer, she stepped closer to the bed and poked at his shoulder, "Uncle Julian, can you hear me?"

When he did not move...not that she had ever seen a corpse move. I have to get out of here! Oh my God, I've murdered him...I've got to get away before anyone knows what I've done? She whirled and rushed to the closet and hurriedly pulled out her clothes. Dressing quickly, she pulled on the traveling skirt and jacket she had worn the past two days, all the while glancing over her shoulder at her uncle. He still hadn't moved. "Oh my God, I've killed him!" She couldn't help but repeat the statement over and over under her breath. The growing fear of being blamed for his murder and that no one would believe she'd struck him in self-defense spurred her to move faster. She grabbed her small satchel and shoved a few necessary items and articles of clothing in it before she quickly finished dressing. Still there was no movement on the bed, just blood that seemed to still be flowing from his head. He was dead. He was well and truly dead and Jennifer Matthews knew without a doubt she was a murderess. She had to get out of there and away as quickly as possible.

Jennifer ran down the stairs as quietly as she could, unlocked the front door, and stole out into the night. But where to go? She knew no one here in Maryland. She couldn't return to New York--the authorities here would know by morning what she had done and they would look for her--so where could she go?

She walked aimlessly down the street, towards the center of town, towards what she hoped was the rail yard. When she came upon it she spied an open box car and climbed in, hoping that the train would soon leave and take her away from there and the horror she had just left behind. She moved to the furthest corner of the car and sat with her back to the wall yet able to keep an eye on the door.

Towards morning she was startled awake with the sound of the car's door slamming shut, followed shortly by the train's movement, hopefully leaving the station. I'm getting away! I'm getting away. They haven't found me...but where do I go from here? Where will I be safe?

With no light entering the car and only the sound of the wheels on the rails for company, Jennifer had no true idea of their direction or how long they traveled. The one thing she wished she had thought about in her flight the night before was food and water and now, in the heat of the car, she was becoming thirsty...

* * *

What seemed like days later, the train stopped and she waited a bit to see if anyone would come and open the door. When all was quiet she went to the door and tried it. To her relief it pushed open. Cool evening air greeted her. Maybe my luck is changing.

Looking around quickly and seeing no one, she jumped from the car and moved first away from the lights of the rail yard and then towards what appeared to be the lights of a town. Hungry and thirsty she kicked herself again for not thinking about taking money from her Uncle Julian. What difference would it make to be labeled a thief as well as a murderess? She stopped and felt in her purse and was relieved to find some coins in the bottom. At least she could buy a meal and a place to sleep until she found some work. She walked a short distance further before coming on a tavern. She'd never been in one before; decent young ladies didn't enter places like that. Well, maybe desperate ones did. Here's hoping they won't object to letting a room to a lone woman.

She entered the building and was surprised to find about twenty women of all sizes, shapes and style of dress sitting and standing about the room, chatting in small groups, almost all of them smiling and seeming to glow with anticipation.

A tall red-headed man approached her. "You here for the train west?"

"Uh, yes, yes I am." Train west? Trains are going west? West is good, that will work. Yes, it will get me away from here, wherever 'here' is.

"Do you have a letter or telegram from your future husband? Or are you just taking your chances?"

"Err, taking my chances." Letter? Husband? Chances on what?

"Okay, there's quite a few of you doin' that, but I think the men will be happy about that. So go ahead, take a seat and we'll be starting in a few minutes."

"Fine. Um, err, where might I buy a bit of dinner? I've been so excited I haven't eaten in a few hours."

"See the man at the bar? I think they're still serving."

Just as Jennifer returned to her seat with her meal, the red-headed man called for quiet.

"Well ladies, thank you for coming. My name is Dustin Hendricks, but you can call me Dusty. This here is Zeke..." A man with long blond hair and a closely trimmed beard stood and waved to the room in general, "and we've been hired to guide you on out to Adler Creek in the Wyoming territory and your grooms."

Wyoming Territory? Well, Uncle Julian's solicitors or the authorities will never think to look for me there.

"They paid expenses for twenty-five so there's room for..." he stopped to count the women in the room "...three more. So if you have any friends who have been thinking about coming along, they need to be ready to ship out tomorrow."

Tomorrow...good. Wherever I am now, it's still too close to Maryland. The sooner we start to wherever, the better.

Dusty continued, "Now, before we get out on the trail, there's a couple of things you will need to know. While we have an escort leaving with us and will be met by some Army troops in St. Louis, you will be driving your own teams, cooking your own meals and you will need to know how to shoot a gun, preferably a rifle. Now, I know that's not considered "lady like" to some of you, but the west is not a cultured place. Those of you who have messages from your future husbands, trust me they are eager to meet you."

Several of the women giggled, pleased smiles on their faces.

"Those of you who are planning on meeting your grooms there, I can tell you that you will have your pick--so not to worry that you won't be getting hitched. There's a passel of good-hearted, hard working men anxious for wives to share their lives with. So tomorrow morning I want to see you all down here by 6:00 a.m. and ready to start learning to drive the teams."

Jennifer finished her meal, feeling better than she had just a short time ago. A plan began forming in her mind that she would go as far as St. Louis and then, with a new name and a history she could create for herself, she could begin a new life. I'm sure I can find some sort of acceptable work to do and no one should be able to find me. In her headlong flight from Maryland she didn't let her thoughts linger long on the fact that she had killed a man. As the meeting broke up two women approached her.

One of the women from the group approached her. "Hello."

Jennifer's tentative "Hello" in response was warmly returned when the woman continued, "This is Beatrice, or Bea as we call her, and I'm Maybelle, but my friends call me Belle."

"I'm...Jenna...Jenna Martin."

"Pleased to meet you, Jenna. We noticed you came in late and wondered if you had signed on with another wagon yet."

"Uh no. I hadn’t. No, not yet.”

"We need a third for ours--the way Dusty explained it is that we need three women to each wagon, to make the trip go smoothly. That we'd alternate one driving, one cooking, one to gather wood and clean each night. Would you be interested in sharing our wagon?"

"Oh yes, thank you. I would truly appreciate that. Thank you."

"Wonderful!" Belle beamed at the news. "So do you know who your husband is or are you taking your chances?"

"I'm taking my chances. And you?"

"We both have our husbands--or letters from our intendeds." Her wide smile put Jennifer or the new person she had chosen to become, Jenna, at a level of ease she hadn't felt since her parents died. "But from what I hear, they are all handsome and...ardent." She giggled, a warm and friendly sound.

"Ardent, huh?"

"Yes. Definitely will be warm in the cold months, yes?"

"It would seem so."

"Well, we also have room in our room here if you haven't taken one yet."

"Oh yes, thank you. I arrived late, in fact, just before the meeting began, and haven't gotten my bearings yet."

"Not a problem. So where are you from originally?"

Jennifer thought a moment...I can't tell them New York, they might have heard of my family and Father's suicide. And I can't say Maryland because of Uncle Julian's...death..." Connecticut. I'm from Connecticut. And where are you from?"

"Right here in Virginia."

Virginia, I made it to Virginia!

"Well, we'd best turn in, early start tomorrow, you know."

Jennifer picked up her satchel, prompting Beatrice to ask, "Where's the rest of your luggage?"

"Oh, I wanted to travel light, you know. Coming down by myself, I didn't want to have to depend on anyone, if you understand me?"

"Oh, good thinking. You'll need to pick up a bonnet though if you don't have one."

"Thanks, I'll look into that tomorrow...we should have a little time before we pull out, shouldn't we?"

"Oh yes, we're learning to handle the teams tomorrow, shooting the next day and then we leave to join our intendeds!"

The women headed up the stairs to their room and Jennifer waited till Beatrice and Belle completed their ablutions before doing her own. She would have dearly loved a bath, but until she had a better lay of the land, she would follow what the others did. She felt relieved and fortunate that the two approached her. At least she could stay in their shadow until they pulled out. While she had never done anything dishonest, until she killed Julian that is, Jennifer was astute enough to know that if she paid close enough attention to the two women, she could construct a new identity for herself by the time she arrived in St. Louis.

Chapter Three

Jennifer didn't remember laying her head on the pillow. She apparently slept a deep, dreamless sleep because Bea had to give her a good shake to wake her the next morning. The women dressed and headed on down to breakfast. When the meal ended, they headed on out to the yard and joined with the rest of the group for their first lesson in handling the ox teams. She eyed the two oxen skeptically since she had never been this close to such animals. Bea told her, "Actually, I've driven an ox team a few times at home on the farm so it won't be that bad. And they are actually pretty decent beasts--not mean at all."

For the next several hours Dusty coached, yelled, and then coached again on how to drive the teams. Round and round in circles they went, first straightening out and then back in a circle. He finally called a break for them to return to the inn and have their noon meal before beginning another several hours of working with the teams. When the meal was done, a bone-weary Jennifer approached the innkeeper and requested enough hot water for her and her two new friends to have hot baths that night. Unused to the physical exertion of managing the ox team and wagon, Jennifer was sure there wasn't a bone or muscle in her body that wasn't hurting. Once they were on the trail, it would be a long time before another hot bath was going to be available, and since her future "husband" was paying her way...at least to St. Louis...she felt she could afford to spend some of the coins she had.

And as to the money from the unknown husband? Well, some how, some day, she'd find a way to find out who he was and pay him back. Bea and Belle were delighted when they entered the room and found the tub waiting for them. For Jennifer, after the past few days, even having grown up with every luxury imaginable, sitting in the small tin tub with the lukewarm water was truly the most pleasant bath in her life. She patted herself on the back for learning to handle the oxen as well as she did today and how she'd gotten this far despite her uncle's attempt to rape and do who knew what else to her. It bothered her that she'd killed a man, but she wouldn't let her mind go there...not to the blood pouring out of his head as he lay there dead on the very bed he planned to rape her in. She had to focus on her future and making a life for herself. She smiled as Bea and Belle talked about their soon-to-be husbands, and read and re-read the letters they had received from those charming men.

Jennifer woke to Belle once again, shaking her and calling her name. Coming out of a restless sleep, she looked around at the still dark room. "Is it time to get up already?"

"No Jenna, you were calling out something about 'no' and 'don't touch me'. You were having a bad nightmare."

"I'm so sorry."

"Not to worry. I think we all have moments of nervousness about this adventure. But really, from what I've heard and what my Henry, my groom to be has said, all of these men--our future husbands--plan to treat us like princesses. But your nervousness is natural."

"Thank you, Belle, thank you. I appreciate your understanding."

They fell back to sleep and Jen was relieved when she woke easily in the morning with no real memory of the dream that had upset her the night before. Again after breakfast, they went out to the yard and Dusty taught them first how to clean and load the rifles and then began teaching them to shoot. After lunch he showed them how to shoot the pistols that would also be provided to each wagon. At dinner that night he congratulated them on their progress in such a short time.

"Ladies, you have done really well. Not perfect, but you've done really well. I suggest the most experienced drivers take the reins tomorrow morning when we head out, the least experienced I'd suggest sitting up front to observe. If you all want to sit up front that's fine, but make sure the most experienced has the reins. The first few days should be easy going but we're going to push for ten to fifteen miles a day. By the end of the first week you should all be proficient with the teams. After dinner each night we'll go over cleaning and loading the guns and taking a few practice shots. I want you all to be ready for what we may encounter once we pull out of St. Louis."

Jennifer considered that. St. Louis. Where she would be leaving her new friends and starting a new life. She was sure she would know what it felt like to be in love with someone when it was right. After all, she loved Addison, hadn't she? She wouldn't have accepted a proposal from a man she didn't love, so of course she'd loved him.

Addison. Some day she'd have to tell him what happened, but not any time soon.

On the other hand, there was Uncle Julian who showed her just how repulsive a man could be. There was no way she was going to marry a stranger and take her chances with an unknown man for a husband. She was sorry some man, who may turn out to be wonderful and kind, was going to be disappointed, but she couldn't get married, not to a stranger and not until she made peace with herself over killing Julian. Addison...she again considered sending word to him, but would he still want her after what had happened? Would he believe her that she was still untouched? Not that that would matter--after all, she would be in prison for murder, if not hanged. No, Addison couldn't help her.

Jennifer had requested another hot bath for herself, Bea, and Belle. It was going to be her last "luxury" for a few weeks and she intended to enjoy and share it. Physically and mentally tired, she fell right asleep, and judging by the happy mood of her two friends the next morning she hadn't had another bad dream.

The excitement of finally leaving was evident in all the chatter from the entire group the next morning, and Jennifer herself got caught up in the anticipation as the wagon train pulled out of the small Virginia town. She was on her way west. She was on her way to freedom and avoiding capture for murdering Julian Carlman.

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