The Undaunted Page 24

  “Stop!” Molly laughed. “Are you trying to change our minds?”

  He grinned. “No, I just don’t want you to have any illusions.”

  “Do you really think we’re that naive?” Abby said. Any points he had made earlier were clearly forgotten. “It is fifty miles from Cedar to St. George, and we managed to survive that.”

  To David’s surprise, her comment embarrassed Carl a little. “But, Abby,” he said, “that was riding in a carriage. After going by horse forty miles out to Springdale to meet Ben Mangleson last month, I could barely walk when I got down. David’s right to be concerned.”

  David raised a hand. “Yes, but after being inside the canyon, I can promise you a fantastic experience.” He looked directly at Abby. “I didn’t mean to suggest that any of you weren’t up to it.”

  She nodded, somewhat contrite.

  Looking at Patrick, David went on. “Our ride out to Springdale will be good preparation. Even though we have a wagon, I would suggest you ride the horses as much as possible on the way. When you start getting sore, then ride in the wagon awhile. Once we go on from Springdale, it will be horses all the way.”

  “Good recommendation,” Patrick said. “What else?”

  Sister McKenna spoke up. “I want to thank you, David. I have been quite worried about this since Patrick first told me what he was planning. But you have put my mind at rest.” She looked wistful. “You almost tempt me to go with you. However, Rachel and I shall just have to console ourselves by shopping the whole time you are gone.”

  As they laughed at that, a voice behind them suddenly cut in. “Can I go, Daddy?” They turned. Billy Joe was standing in the doorway. His face was forlorn, his eyes imploring as he spoke to his father. “Please, Papa. Please. Please. Please.”

  “No, Patrick Joseph,” his mother said firmly. Then, as his face fell, her expression softened. “This is not a place for a six-year-old.”

  But this six-year-old was wise enough to know that no hope lay with his mother. He ran to his father and dropped down in front of him. Abby cut in. “No, Patrick.” She came to him and put an arm around him. “It’s going to be a very difficult trip.”

  His eyes filled with tears. “You don’t want me there for your birthday?”

  She melted and took him in her arms. “Oh, Patrick. We’ll have a party when we get back.”

  Seeing no support from his sister, Billy Joe turned once again to his father. This time he said nothing, just stood there with those large, beseeching eyes.

  David had been watching Billy Joe’s father through all of this. To his surprise, the senior Patrick seemed to be considering it. Finally, he looked at David. “Any comment, David?”

  “No, Patrick,” his wife cried.

  But he held up one hand and nodded at David. “What do you think?”

  “Daddy,” Abby said, sensing what was about to happen. “You heard what David just said about how very hard—” the last two words were said with heavy irony—“this trip is going to be.”

  Patrick’s jaw set a little. “I know that, Abby, but I’d still like to hear what David has to say.”

  David took a quick breath, knowing he was about to get himself in trouble again. “Well, as far as the practical goes, that’s not a problem. I bought a couple of extra bedrolls, in case one of them gets wet. And we have plenty of food.”

  Molly, who seemed not at all upset with the idea, laughed aloud. “Are you sure? Remember, this boy eats more than any one of you three men.”

  “Do not!” Billy Joe said hotly. He looked at David anxiously, afraid this might do him in.

  “I think your sister’s right, Billy Joe. I saw you putting away that pie at dinner. But,” he went on quickly before he could protest further, “we have enough to keep you from starving.”

  Billy Joe’s face lit up as he realized that David wasn’t going to vote against him. David, however, was watching his mother. Now it was her eyes that were pleading with him. He sighed. “Sister McKenna, it is not my decision whether Billy Joe goes or not. That’s up to you and your husband. But I cannot agree that a trip like this is no place for a six-year-old. I’ve talked to men who walked across the plains when they were four and five.”

  “That’s not a fair comparison,” Abby said tightly.

  “Abby,” her father warned. “Let David finish.”

  David took in a breath, trying to hold his temper. He had no desire to offend Billy Joe’s mother, but his sister needed taking down a peg or two. And there was something that needed saying here. So he took another breath and plunged.

  “I started as a trapper in the Yorkshire coal mines three days after my sixth birthday,” he said quietly. “A trapper is a boy who opens and shuts the doors in the coal tunnels to help control ventilation. I worked twelve hours a day, six days a week. Most of that was in total darkness. The thing I hated the most was hearing the sound of the rats scurrying past my feet and not being able to see them, or know if they were eating the lunch I brought each day.”

  He ignored the shudder that ran through Molly’s body and the look of horror on Sister McKenna’s face. “By the time I was eight, I was hauling coal tubs through the monkey heads—tunnels no higher than this.” He held a hand at waist height. “We strapped on leather girdles with chains attached. We hooked them to the carts, then pulled our guts out, crawling on our hands and knees so we didn’t hit our heads on the tunnel roof.”

  He stopped, realizing that his chest was rising and falling a little. Seeing their shocked, wide-eyed, open-mouthed expressions, he forced a wan smile, then said, “Sister McKenna, if you don’t want Billy Joe to go with us, that’s fine. But don’t decide that just because he’s six. Even at six, a boy can start becoming a man.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that you had a deprived childhood, Mr. Draper,” Abby said in a tight voice, “but this is our family and you have no say in what happens.”

  “Abby!” her father said sharply. “That’s enough.”

  David swung on her. “You’re right, Miss Abigail. You shouldn’t care what I think. But you should care about Billy Joe.”

  “His name is not Billy Joe,” she snapped. “And for your information, I love my brother.”

  “Maybe too much,” he murmured.

  Abby went livid. “How dare you!”

  He whirled on her. “Then stop calling him Patrick Joseph. That’s an honorable name, and maybe when he’s twenty, he’ll like it. But he’s a kid now. That’s not a kid’s name.” He turned to the parents. “Do you know what started the fight the other day at the livery stable? The other kids were making fun of his name. They call him P. J. or Pajamas.”

  There was a sharp intake of breath from Sister McKenna. “Is that true, young Patrick?”

  He hung his head. “Yes, Mama.”

  “So I gave him a nickname,” David said calmly, “a nickname that he earned, by the way.” He turned to Patrick senior. “Abby’s right, Patrick. I am not part of your family. And it’s not my decision. But I know about boys. And I know that sometimes they can be protected too much. Sometimes they just need to do something exciting and manly.”

  “Yeah!” Billy Joe cried.

  David ignored that, though it was hard not to smile. “So since you asked, yes, I would be happy to have Billy Joe join us. In fact, I think it is one of the best things you could possibly do for him right now.”

  He stood and went to the door, feeling every eye upon him. “If you want to find someone else for tomorrow, I’ll understand. Just leave word at the boardinghouse and I’ll head on back to Cedar City. But either way, I’ll have the wagon here at five o’clock.”

  Monday, September 16, 1878

  When the door opened, David fully expected that Brother McKenna would be the only one to come out. But he was wrong. Abby came first, dressed in riding clothes. She walked past him with a curt nod, but said nothing. Her father was next, followed by Molly, dressed in the same manner. She didn’t speak, but gave David a little wave and
a bright smile.

  Then Carl came around from the back of the house, leading four horses. “Good morning, David,” he said, as if nothing unusual had happened here the previous afternoon.

  “Mornin’, Carl.”

  Well, at least I still have a job. He was relieved. He had hoped it would go this way, but the more he had replayed the conversation in his mind yesterday, the less certain he had become.

  Then his head came around slowly. Sarah McKenna was framed in the light of the doorway. Her sister was standing next to her, and Billy Joe stood between them. He wore a wide-brimmed hat, a leather jacket, and cowboy boots. At the sight of David, he gave his mother a quick hug and a kiss, then came on a dead run.

  “Well, hello there, Billy Joe,” David said. “What are the chances I could get you to ride up here with me and help drive this team? They’re a little ornery this morning.”

  “Yahoo!” he shouted and clambered up beside him.

  Sister McKenna came down the walk, smiled briefly up at David, then went on and gathered her two girls in her arms. “You have a wonderful birthday, Abby.”

  “I will, Mama. I’m so excited.”

  Sarah and her husband then embraced. “Be careful, Patrick.”

  “I will.” He took the reins of his horse from Carl. “We’ll be back in about ten days.”

  She finally turned to David.

  He swept off his hat. “Sister McKenna, I . . . I’m sorry for what I said yesterday.”

  She was quite grave, but a smile teased the corners of her mouth. She looked up at her son, who already had the reins in his hands. “Watching my son this morning, I’d say no apology is necessary.” Suddenly her eyes were shining. “Will you take care of him for me, David?”

  “I will.”

  She laughed to cover the huskiness in her voice. “Well, my daughters too. And Patrick, of course. He’ll be your biggest challenge.” Then she had to stop, pressing her lips together to keep them from trembling. “Promise me,” she said in a fierce whisper.

  David looked her directly in the eye. “You didn’t have to ask. You have my word on it.”

  Chapter 22

  Thursday, September 19, 1878

  “Good morning, Sister Abby,” David said, looking up from the fire. “Happy birthday.”

  “Thank you.” She moved over to stand across the fire from him, warming her hands. “How can it be so warm in the day and so cold at night?”

  “That’s the desert for you.”

  She bent over and sniffed the air. “Umm, flapjacks.”

  He reached down to where he had several already done and sitting on a plate. He picked one up and tore it in half. “Here, try it. But no honey and butter until breakfast.”

  She took it, pulling off small pieces and eating it a little bit at a time. “This is so good.”

  “Nothing like being hungry to improve the taste of food.” He flipped over two flapjacks, watching her as she turned to look at the sun, which was just peeping over the eastern cliffs. She wore a sheepskin jacket over her blouse and long skirt. Beneath the hem, he could see sturdy hiking boots. She also had a cowboy hat pulled down almost to her ears, but tufts of her dark hair stuck out all around it. With the new sun on her face, her eyes were almost golden. As she stood there, her breath showed like little puffs of silver.

  “By the way,” she said. “Out here, just plain Abby is fine.”

  “But I could never think of you as just plain Abby,” he quipped. “You actually look quite fetching this morning. This desert air must be good for you.”

  “Oh, please!”

  He looked up in surprise.

  “Why do you do that, David?”

  “Do what?”

  “That thing you do with girls, that—” her voice dropped into a low growl—“Why-hello-there-little-darlin’. My-ain’t-you-the-pretty-little-thing-now?”

  He blinked. “I said all that?”

  “I used to think it was because you viewed all unmarried females over the age of ten as scatterbrained, flighty creatures who need your adoration to keep them all fluttery inside.”

  “Whoa! What’d you do, sleep on a rock last night?”

  “See what I mean? I can’t even have a serious discussion with you. But I’m on to you, David Draper.” She was actually almost smiling as she said it. “These last few days I’ve come to see beneath that game you play to charm the girls, keep them all atwitter so they can’t get to know the real you.”

  He stood slowly. “Is this what you’re like when you’re all atwitter?”

  She kicked dirt at him. “Stop it. It’s not funny.”

  “I wasn’t trying to be funny,” he snapped, irked now. “Look, Abby, you want honesty. All right, I’ll be honest. You scare the heck out of me.”

  “Go on!” she burst out incredulously.

  “I mean it. When you got that buggy whip out, I decided right then and there that here was a woman I was going to take very seriously. I was afraid that if I misbehaved again, you’d strap on a gun and come looking for me.”

  She tried to glare at him, but she couldn’t hold it. The laughter bubbled up and burst out of her. “Well,” she said, “you really did make me angry that day.”

  “Who, me?” he asked innocently.

  “You have this ability to irritate people,” she went on, “and I can’t decide if it’s a natural gift or if you’ve been working on it all your life.”

  “It’s natural. But you’ve helped me greatly enhance it.”

  She laughed again. “You’re hopeless.”

  But he wasn’t done. “Do you feel like I treat you with respect?”

  Startled, she considered that, then finally nodded. “Yes. Not at first, but now, yes.”

  “So you’re not just another pretty face?” he asked softly.

  “Ohhh, you!” She threw her hands in the air. “There you go again. Why do you do that? It’s not you, David. It’s a game. And you’re not a little boy anymore.”

  He didn’t flinch. “That was not a little boy’s question.”

  That stopped her. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “So, you think I was playing when I said you looked fetching this morning?”

  “I . . . of course. That’s just you.”

  “You don’t consider yourself pretty, do you? Not compared to Molly.”

  Her face flamed instantly red. “I feel no obligation to answer that.”

  “Sorry. You just did.” He returned to his cooking, turning the bacon and checking to see if the flapjacks were done. Then, as he watched her face, his voice softened. “Sit down, Abby. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “Then why did you?”

  “Because you are a pretty face,” he shot back at her. “You too are a lovely woman. You don’t have to look like Molly to be pretty, or be like Molly to be an attractive, interesting person. And if you think that’s just me trying to sweet-talk you into going all fluttery, well, so be it.”

  “I . . .” She looked away, clearly uncomfortable with what had just happened. “Where are Carl and Daddy?”

  “Down at the river with Billy Joe, washing up.”

  She gave him a fleeting, halfhearted smile, pulled her jacket around her more tightly, and started away. David lifted the frying pan and waved it at her. “If you’re going down there, tell them breakfast will be ready in ten minutes.”

  She waved, but several steps later stopped and turned back, shoving her hands deep into her pockets. “I will say one thing. You were right about Billy Joe coming with us. I was wrong. And I apologize for that comment about your childhood. That was totally uncalled for.”

  That took him by surprise. Then he remembered what her father had said about her scrupulous honesty, especially with herself. He grinned slowly. “Well, maybe not totally. And I’m sorry for saying you love Billy Joe too much. He thinks the world of you, Abby. It’s fun to watch the two of you.”

  She smiled awkwardly. Finally she lifted a hand and turned to go agai
n. But once again she remembered something else and turned back. “One more thing.”

  He tried not to smile. She was really unloading the saddlebags this morning.

  “Thank you for thinking about what kind of clothes Molly and I would need up here.” She was suddenly flustered. “Riding sidesaddle all this time would have been. . . . Well, let’s just say we could have done it, but this is much better.” She pulled out the front of her skirt to show that beneath its fullness it was actually tailored so as to be separated into what looked like men’s trouser legs.

  “Well, I’ll be. So that’s how you did it?” He chose his words carefully. “I just thought you and Molly were tucking all that material up beneath you on the saddle when you rode.”

  She laughed. “You can do that, but—” she pulled a face. “But it ain’t very comfortable.” Then she reached in her pocket and brought out what looked like two men’s garters. Her face colored even more. “I know Ben is worried about hiking today, but watch this.” She bent down, gathered half of her skirts around one ankle, then slipped the garter over her foot to hold them in place. She did the same with the other side. When she straightened, she looked like she was wearing a pair of very baggy men’s trousers. “It’s not very flattering.” There was an amused smile. “Molly is still adjusting to the idea. But it will work.”

  “Women are a marvel,” he said, really meaning it.

  “Well, again I thank you. We wouldn’t have come prepared if you hadn’t said something.”

  “It was just one of those flashes of insight. Surely it wasn’t me. Maybe it was me Mum, telling me from heaven to treat you two properly.”

  She pursed her lips. “If that’s true, that would answer my question.”

  “What question?”

  “How in the world David Draper ever thought of such a feminine thing.” And with a jaunty wave, she turned and walked swiftly away.

  David watched her for a moment, glad that the contentiousness between them seemed to be softening a little. This trip had been good in that regard. It had been an amazing experience so far. The scenery was spectacular! Every bend brought another jaw-dropping sight. Sheer rock cliffs jutted straight up out of the valley floor fifteen hundred to two thousand feet high. The variety of colors in the stone was astonishing—deep vermilion to pale pink, dark chocolate to light tan, soft yellow to brilliant white. Billy Joe perfectly described one mountain as a cake piled high with mounds of white frosting. The whole experience was having an effect on all of them, drawing them closer together in the sharing of it.