Wagon Train Sisters. Shirley Kennedy
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Cover Copy
After the death of her abusive husband, Sarah Gregg is free to join her family along with thousands of others in the nation’s westward march for gold. But in the middle of the hard journey, Sarah’s younger sister, Florrie, disappears. Devastated by the family’s failed attempts to find her missing sister, Sarah now wants only to settle into a quiet, uneventful life when she reaches California . . .
But Jack McCoy, a drifter and one-time gambler riding along their wagon train, sees so much more for Sarah. In the roaring mining town of Gold Creek his attentive persistence points Sarah toward new vistas. Then unexpected news of Florrie arrives—and it’s worse than anyone expected. But driven by a new hopefulness, Sarah seeks help from Jack, despite his troubled past. The two have traveled a rough road together, and only their hearts can tell them where they are headed . . .
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Books by Shirley Kennedy
Women of the West series
Wagon Train Cinderella
Wagon Train Sisters
Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation
Wagon Train Sisters
Women of the West series
Shirley Kennedy
LYRICAL PRESS
Kensington Publishing Corp.
www.kensingtonbooks.com
Copyright
Lyrical Press books are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp. 119 West 40th Street New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2016 by Shirley Kennedy
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First Electronic Edition: July 2016
eISBN-13: 1978-1-60183-593-2
eISBN-10: -60183-593-0
First Print Edition: July 2016
ISBN-13: 978-1-60183-594-9
ISBN-10: 1-60183-594-9
Printed in the United States of America
Dedication
As we go through life, friends come and go. Only a few last a lifetime. This book is dedicated to three lifetime friends dear to my heart: Julie Gettys, Carol Eversole, and Larry Wonderling.
Chapter 1
It was late afternoon before Sarah realized something was wrong. Earlier, the wagons had stopped for the noon meal beside a clear, gently flowing stream. The wagon master wanted to move on, but the women insisted they cut short the day’s journey and spend the night. Who could blame them? After days of crossing the bare, dusty plains, each had more than her share of dirty laundry. Kneeling by the stream, Sarah enjoyed this ritual of chatting with her neighbors, despite scrubbing clothes until her knuckles were raw and red.
But where’s Florrie? Sarah sat back on her heels and looked around. “Has anybody seen my sister?”
Lined along the bank, the ladies of the train dutifully halted their labors. “Haven’t seen her since this morning.”
“Haven’t seen her all day.”
“Maybe she ran away.”
Everyone tittered at that last remark. After weeks living in the forced closeness of a wagon train, they knew each other well, and in some cases, better than they wished. Sarah was known to be the hard worker of the family. Her sister-in-law, Becky, was the one with the sharp tongue. Florrie was the quiet one, hadn’t made many friends, and stayed close to their wagon. She’d be the last person in the world who’d run off. Besides, where would she go? Two days ago they’d left the last vestiges of civilization at Fort Hall and were now in a land where rivers raged, wild animals roamed, forests stretched to the horizon and beyond.
So where was Florrie? Come to think of it, Sarah hadn’t seen her since right after they stopped for the day, and that was hours ago. It wasn’t like her, but she must be visiting at one of the wagons. She’d surely appear in time for supper. Nothing to worry about.
When Sarah lugged her bagful of laundry back to her family’s wagon, she half expected Florrie to be waiting, but she wasn’t in sight. Ma was fixing supper, grunting with pain as she bent over the campfire. Sarah hastily set down the laundry and took the poker from her mother’s hand. “Is your rheumatism acting up? Here, let me do that. You go rest. Have you seen Florrie?”
Luzena Bryan frowned with concern. “No I haven’t. I was beginning to worry, but then I decided she must be with you.”
“I haven’t seen her for hours.”
“Then she must have gone visiting one of the wagons.”
“Of course. She’ll be back any minute.” As Sarah bent to stir the pot of beans hanging over the campfire, a faint quiver of worry coursed through her. Florrie never did anything out of the ordinary. She would never disappear like this. Twenty-three and still unmarried, she didn’t have a whole lot of friends, nor did she seem to want any. Back home in Fort Wayne, she hardly went anywhere except church. Aside from helping with the housework, she spent her time producing bumpy needlepoint canvases and reading romantic, derring-do novels by the likes of Mrs. Southworth and Mrs. Wilson. No gentleman ever came calling, which Florrie said was fine with her, but Sarah knew otherwise. Florrie was no great beauty. In a rare moment of honesty, she once complained to Sarah, “God gave you the beautiful eyes and the nice little nose and the curvy figure, but me? God made me ugly, and don’t tell me otherwise.”
Sarah had hastened to reassure her younger sister with, “Beauty is only skin deep,” and other useless platitudes. The truth was God had given Florrie a chin too weak, lips too thin, eyes too close together and a chest too flat. All of which wouldn’t have mattered had she possessed the kind of bubbly charm that made men overlook such imperfections, but she didn’t. Men never looked twice at Florrie Bryan. Her plodding gait, dumpy figure, and lack of sparkling conversation turned them away.
Her family cared deeply for her, though. No one could have a more generous heart or be more loyal than Florrie. Now, as the sun sank ever lower on the horizon, the Bryans finished their dinner while sitting around their campfire, discussing her disappearance