Page 60 of Wagon Train Hope
“Ya’ve ruined me daughter, ya have. Now ya’ll be marryin’ her.”
Walt’s throat worked, but no words came out.
Pa stood beside the angry man. “Wait a minute. Let’s be reasonable.”
Mr. Harrison’s eyes burned like live coals. “Ain’t no one gonna marry her after they hear she’s been with him.” The live coals peeked out from narrow slits. “’Course they ain’t gonna need to ’cause he’s gonna marry her.”
Miss Harrison crawled into the open, yawning andstretching. “Pa, I don’t mind marrying him. He’s tall and handsome.”
Marnie went to Pa’s side. “Miss Harrison, how did you come to be here? You weren’t here when we went to bed. You weren’t here when my husband went out to guard the oxen.”
Miss Harrison batted her eyes and looked embarrassed. Or was it pleased? Maybe determined. How was he to know?
“We met up after youse were all sleeping.” She rubbed her eyes sleepily. “He said it’d be all right ’cause we’d get married afterward.”
Walt almost choked at her bare-faced lie. He looked around for someone who might have seen this gal sneak into the camp. Someone who’d believe he was innocent and come to his rescue.
Joe lingered at the fringes, saying nothing but seeing it all. Guess he knew better than to get involved with white man’s craziness. Walt wished he could say the same. Not that he’d had any choice in this. That gal was trying to trap him into a marriage he didn’t want.
Ignoring the still-threatening rifle and the riled man, Walt scanned the circle for Irene. In the light of the fire, he saw she wasn’t under the wagon where she often slept beside Bertie. Bertie huddled back in the shadows with his animals.
The other ladies watched, either from near the fire someone had tossed wood on or from the opening of their tents. Wise of them to keep their distance. Cecil remained with the oxen, likely unaware of the drama unfolding.
But where was Irene?
A movement beyond the wagons caught his attention. She was on the back of her horse, riding away at a gentle lope as if this whole situation meant nothing to her.
As if he meant nothing to her.
His insides wailed a protest.Irene, didn’t my kisses and my gift mean anything?
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Irene couldn’t bear to stay there watching that pretty—that scheming—woman trap Walt into a marriage. Plain as day, that’s what was happening. Walt might give a few kisses. Even a sweet gift but?—
A wail screamed through her insides, but she kept it trapped. He’d never invite a gal he wasn’t married to to share his bed. Of that, she was certain.
She stopped in the shelter of trees where she’d be out of sight and watched the proceedings, her mind in a whirl.
Would Walt be wanting to marry that woman? Hadn’t she admitted the Harrison girls were proper and pretty? Perhaps the sort Walt could picture himself married to, although he’d assured her he appreciated someone who would ride with him. That didn’t necessarily mean he’d marry a person like her.
But how proper was this girl if she pretended to have slept with a man?
Irene was too far away to make out what was said. Shoot! She should have stayed closer.
Mr. Harrison continued to point his rifle at Walt. Hermouth like old cotton, Irene prayed he wouldn’t accidentally shoot Walt. Or worse, shoot him on purpose.
Gabe and Ma appeared to be arguing with the rifle-toting man.
Mr. Harrison shook his head, then jabbed the rifle into Walt’s stomach.
Walt backed away two steps. Mr. Harrison said something, gesturing with the gun.
Gabe grabbed Walt’s boots. Tossed them to Walt. Walt jerked them on.
Was that all he was concerned with? His boots? Shouldn’t he protest? Loudly enough for her to hear? Refuse to comply? Insist Miss Harrison step up with the truth? But instead, Walt and Mr. Harrison walked away from the wagons in the direction of town, the rifle still in Mr. Harrison’s hands and still aimed at Walt.
Her chest sank as she expelled her breath. Were they going to town to find the preacher? Guess it was a good thing he’d put his boots on if that’s what they were doing.
