He was about to jump down when Simon Frezner pulled alongside. “No need for concern, folks. Just another wagon joining our ranks. We were expecting them. You can stretch your legs for ten, then we’ll be on our way again.”
The ground felt good under Gen’s feet. One hour into the adventure and her cramped muscles were already complaining. She avoided the crowd of people that gathered around the new arrivals and walked alone. The afternoon sun was at its height and she felt like ripping off her bonnet and drenching her head with a canteen of water. She was rubbing her neck when Trace sidled up behind her. He removed her hands from her neck and proceeded to knead and rub until she swayed leisurely from the relief it brought. She felt his fingers on her waist as he rotated her around to face him.
“My sweet Gen. I have the sudden urge to kiss you like a man kisses his wife.”
Without a second thought, she leaned in. “Perhaps we should practice, Mr. Stapleton, for the sake of appearing authentic.”
He did not require a second invitation. Trace pulled her into his arms and buried his mouth against hers. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she pulled him closer. She couldn’t seem to get enough, until she sensed another presence. Her eyes bolted open, and there stood her brother gawking at them.
Pushing away she groaned, and said, “Nick Trafton, don’t you ever sneak up on me again.”
He laughed. “I saw it with my own eyes so now I must believe the unbelievable. You actually love the bloke.”
The last part of his remark sounded more like a question than an observation.
Gen straightened her dress and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ears. “Of course, I do. Why else would I marry the man?”
“That’s been my question ever since I heard of the union.” He looked at Trace and a silent challenge passed between them.
“You mind your own business, Nick. I’m a married woman and there is nothing you can do about it.”
“I can make you a widow,” he said never taking his eyes off Trace.
Unbuffed by the threat, Trace took Gen’s hand in his. “Before we were distracted, my dear, I came to tell you that your brother has decided to tag along on our honeymoon trip. It seems he is traveling with Andrea Friskin.”
Gen gasped, playing the surprise element to the maximum. “Andrea Friskin!” She stared at Nick and saw the defiance in his stance. Trace had said they were arguing at the depot but yet they still traveled together – in the same wagon? She wasn’t sure what arrangement she’d expected, but this was not it. “Aren’t you stepping a bit beyond your class, or is it still all about brotherly competition? Jethro won your childhood sweetheart fair and square and now you need to show him you can go one step higher up the social ladder.”
“That’s harsh, Genevieve,” said Nick.
“I’m called Gen now. Less formality is my preference.”
“Gen,” he echoed the name, repeating it over and over again. “Sounds more like you. Good choice.”
“My husband’s choice. He has a knack for seeing through to a person’s real character. Perhaps you should be worried.”
“Me, why?”
“Because you are traveling with Andrea Friskin after leaving home so secretively. You do know that her name was in the papers as a missing person? Does that make you an accomplice or stupid in love?”
“Slow down, sis. I’m escorting her to Colorado Springs. That’s not a crime. She paid me.”
She recalled Trace’s description of the meeting out behind the building at the depot. Not friendly at all. “An escort?”
“Sure, I wanted to head that direction and this was a way to get there. Simple as that.”
“What about the baby?” asked Trace.
Gen gasped in horror. “A baby!”
Nick studied her. “I’m escorting both of them to Colorado Springs. Don’t make such a big deal out of it.”
“Well, if we have to travel together, I expect you to be nice to my husband. He is my family now and you’ll not put a wedge between us.” Gen’s words were clear and undeniably defensive.
That same boyish grin of the cat that swallowed the mouse, spread over Nick’s face. “I won’t have to. The man will bury himself and time will find you racing to cry on my familiar shoulder.”
“Don’t count on it.” Gen lifted her skirt. “I think they are beckoning us back to our wagons. Good day to you, Nick.”
She seized Trace by the arm and marched away, head held high, all the way to her wagon. She refused to sit in the front.
“I’m tired, Trace.”
It was an excuse but she didn’t care. She settled under the canvas inside and wept for the glimpse of hope she’d felt in Trace’s arms, and the cruel words spoken by her brother. Words that Trace did not defend, dispute, or deny.
Chapter 7
At the next rest stop, Gen climbed out and headed for the Friskin wagon. When she spotted Andrea, she called out to her.
“Hello Andrea. Come visit for a minute.”
The green-eyed pampered socialite wore a common traveling dress and her hair looked disheveled. Perhaps she’d been napping too.
“You’re Grace’s sister, aren’t you?” she asked. Gen was surprised she didn’t mention Nick’s name as the reference to her family.
“Yes, I am. We were expecting to hear from you, knowing your eighteenth birthday was fast approaching. Time for a new wardrobe.”
Andrea laughed and pointed to her outfit. “As you can see, clothing is not a high priority out here.”
“We missed you at Sandy and Jethro’s wedding, but obviously you had other plans.” Gen hugged the woman. “So glad to have you traveling with us. My husband and
