Her Cheyenne Warrior. Lauri Robinson
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covered by the black habit—Lorna grinned. “I’m glad you came west, too.” She was sorry for Tillie’s losses, but had said that plenty of times before. “And I’m glad you’re on this trip with me,” she added instead.
They conversed of minor things then, just to lighten the monotony of the trail. Tall grass went on as far as they could see in this wide-open country. There were a few small hills here and there, and a large line of trees along the river that ran just south of them. They’d camp near the river again tonight, like every night. Meg said farther into Wyoming, they wouldn’t have the water they did here in Nebraska. Lorna hoped they wouldn’t have the high temperatures, either. It was unrelenting. The yards of black material covering her from head to toe intensified the heat, making the sun twice as hot as it ever had been in England.
By the time they stopped for the noon meal, Lorna questioned if she’d ever been so sweaty and miserable in her life. She wasted no time in unhitching the mules and leading them down to the river for water. The poor animals had to be beyond parched.
“Sure is a hot one,” Meg said, dropping the lead rope as her mules stepped into the water and started slurping.
“Miserably so.” Lorna pushed the tight habit off her head and lifted the heavy braid of her hair off the back of her neck to catch the breeze. The relief wasn’t nearly enough. “I feel like jumping in that river and swimming clear to the other side.”
Meg looked up and down the river, and then over her shoulder where Betty and Tillie were busy seeing to the noon meal. It wouldn’t be much, just more tea and biscuits, and maybe some dried apple chips.
“Why don’t we?”
Lorna pulled her gaze off the other women to glance at Meg. She was smiling, which in itself was a bit rare. “I don’t know,” Lorna said, trying to conceal how her heart leaped inside her chest. “Why don’t we?”
“No reason I can think of,” Meg said. “You?”
Lorna shook her head. “Not a one.”
Meg glanced up and down the river one more time. “I gotta say, a swim sounds like a better way to celebrate a birthday than any stupid party with fancy dresses covered in lace.”
Lorna laughed. “I agree. And getting out of these heavy dresses for a moment would be heavenly, Sister Meg.”
Meg laughed. “Then, stake down your mules, Sister Lorna.”
Grinning, and with her heart skipping with excitement, Lorna didn’t waste a minute in staking the animals and then unbraiding her hair. She hadn’t been swimming in years, but it wasn’t something a person forgot. Hopefully! Then again, submerging herself in that cool river water would be worth almost drowning.
Meg shouted for Betty and Tillie to join them. In no time, all four of them were stripped down to their underclothes and running for the water, giggling like girls half their age. The water was as refreshing as Lorna imagined and not nearly as deep as it looked. She was halfway across the river before the water reached her waist, at which point she pinched her nose and fell onto her back. Sinking beneath the water was trivial, yet the most spectacular event she’d had in months. When she resurfaced, she stretched out and slowly kicked her feet to propel her around as she floated on her back. The water was like taking a bath, except that it smelled earthy and pure instead of cloying and sweet from the various flower oils her maid, Anna, had drizzled in the brass tub before she’d proclaim the bath was ready.
Of all the people she’d thought of over the past year, Anna hadn’t been in her memories at all. Yet the woman should have been. She’d been the one mainstay in her life, clicking her tongue and waggling a finger at the slightest misstep. Maybe that was why. As Tillie had pointed out, learning to take care of oneself was liberating. Lorna liked that. Taking responsibility suited her.
Stretching her arms out at her sides, she smiled up at the bright blue sky. Not answering to anyone was liberating, too. So was not being committed to doing anything or being anywhere she didn’t want to be or do.
This was how her life would be from now on. Free to do as she pleased.
“Well, well, well, what do we have here?”
The chill that encompassed her had nothing to do with the water. Lorna dropped her feet. As they sank into the soft sand, she turned to where the familiar male voice had come from.
Jacob Lerber stood on the riverbank, along with three other men who looked just as uncouth. They reminded her of the stories she’d heard about wolves, complete with evil eyes and yellow teeth.
All four of them had guns hanging off their waists. She’d learned since coming to America that only those who didn’t mind killing broadly displayed their weapons. Which was why she kept hers hidden, and would have had it on her right now if she hadn’t decided to go swimming. As it was, her little gun was still in a deep pocket in her dress...which was on the shore not five feet from Lerber. The man who’d sold her the tiny pistol had said it wouldn’t do any harm at a distance, but if a man got within three feet of her it would stop him dead in his tracks. The very reason she’d bought it. No man would ever get that close to her again.
“What do you want, Lerber?” Meg shouted.
“Hush,” Lorna hissed, inching her way to where the others stood in the waist-deep water. What Lerber wanted was obvious—making sure he didn’t get it needed to be the focus.
“Well, now, I was just worried about the four of you out here all alone,” Jacob drawled. “Thought I best backtrack and check how you fine ladies were getting along.”
“More likely you got kicked off the wagon train,” Meg yelled.
Lorna agreed, but hushed Meg again. “We’re getting along just fine,” Lorna said. “Thanks for stopping.”
“Thanks for stopping?” Betty hissed under her breath.
“Shush,” Lorna insisted.
“You can shush us all you want,” Meg snapped. “They ain’t leaving. Mark my word.”
“I know that,” Lorna replied. “I’m just trying to come up with a plan.”
“What you ladies whispering about out there?” Jacob shouted. “How happy you are to see us?”
The others beside him chortled, and one slapped him on the back as if Jacob was full of wit.
Intelligence was not what Jacob was known for. “Delighted for sure,” Lorna answered while gradually twisting her neck to see how far the opposite bank was. The men hadn’t yet stepped in the water. From the looks of Jacob’s greasy hair, he was either afraid of or opposed to water. If she and the others swam—
Her brain stopped midthought. What she saw on the other side of the river sent a shiver rippling her spine all the way to the top of her head. Lorna shifted her feet to solidify her stance in the wet sand and get a better view, just to make sure she wasn’t seeing things. The way her throat plugged said she wasn’t imagining anything.
“Indians,” Meg whispered.
That was exactly what they were. Indians. Too many to count. And they weren’t afraid of water. Especially the one on the large black horse who was front and center. He was huge and so formidable the lump in Lorna’s throat silenced her scream as his horse leaped into the water like a beast arising from the caverns of hell. The very image of her worst nightmare.
Water splashed as other horses lunged to follow him, and the Indians on their backs started making high-pitched yipping noises.
Frozen by a form of fear she’d never known existed, Lorna couldn’t move, didn’t move until the screeches of the women penetrated her senses. She spun to tell them to hush, but her attention landed on the other riverbank, where Jacob and his cronies ran beside their horses, attempting to leap into their saddles before the animals left them afoot. All four managed to mount, and watching them gallop away would have been a relief if the riverbed beneath her hadn’t been vibrating.