Outlaw Hearts(71)

Stanton grinned, picking up the bill and feeling a little more at ease. Kennedy turned and left, looking for Juan. He’ll love to hear this, he thought. Juan would like nothin’ better than to carve Jake Harkner into a hundred pieces and feed him to the wolves! And what if Jake was sweet on that Hayes woman? How in hell could that have happened? If it was true, and Jake had the woman with him, she would just be the icing on the cake for them once they found them. He and Juan and the others would lick that icing, right in front of Jake Harkner’s eyes!

***

The Mormon women fussed over Miranda, helping her bathe, pressing the yellow dress Jake liked best on her, pinning her hair up into curls.

“Ah, you vill make beautiful bride,” Esther Carlson said in her musical Swedish accent. “This vill be first time I see vedding in America.” She ended the sentence with an up-note, as though it were a question, always making Miranda feel as though she was supposed to answer.

“Do you miss Sweden?” Miranda asked, holding still while the older woman pinned another curl.

“There has not been time to miss my home. Since ve come here, ve get right off boat and start out in vagon. There vill be time for settling and for missing home once ve reach Salt Lake. Soon ve vill think of that as home. This is good place, this America.”

“Yes.” Miranda wondered what these Mormons would think if they knew the truth about Jake. To them he was a hero, a daring, adventurous American who had saved them from certain death. Jake and Miranda had come upon their wagon train while it was being attacked by a small band of Sioux Indians. None of the Mormon men were experienced at shooting at other human beings, no matter how savage; only a few even knew how to use a gun, and had used them only to hunt game. They had apparently not even done a very good job of that, since Jake and Miranda found them all near starvation.

Miranda could smile now at the memory. Jake really had been a hero that day, but she remembered the terror she felt, sure he would be killed himself. He had heard the shooting and had sneaked up onto a rise near the surrounded wagon train. He had picked off several of the Indians with his Winchester, startling them with shots coming from another direction. Those remaining were frightened and rode off, except for two, who came at Jake after his rifle was empty. Jake rose and whipped out one of his revolvers, and with one quick shot he had downed one of the Indians. A second shot hit its mark also, but that Indian did not go down easily. He kept coming, and Jake fired twice more as the painted warrior whacked at him with a tomahawk. Miranda remembered the sick feeling the sight had given her, but Jake had managed to dodge the weapon, and the Indian finally fell dead from his horse.

It had been a harrowing experience, and the Mormons had treated Jake and Miranda like a king and queen ever since. Although Jake had wanted to continue traveling alone, both knew it was impossible. Because of the likelihood of further Indian attacks, they could not take the risk of being caught alone. There was only so much one man could do if it happened again. They had joined the Mormons and would stay with them to Salt Lake, where they hoped to find traders or settlers traveling on to Virginia City.

All the way here to Fort Laramie Jake had taken time to show the Mormon men how to shoot, had hunted game for them, helped with two different wagons that broke down. Miranda had nursed a little boy who broke his arm in a fall from a wagon, and had won the friendship of the other women. Because she and Jake wanted to get married as soon as they found a priest or a minister, they had been forced to admit to the Mormons that they were not married but planned to be when they reached Laramie. Miranda had explained that Jake was a “friend of the family” who had found her dying from a snakebite and had agreed to see her safely to Nevada.

Here at Laramie, they had found a Catholic priest who ministered to the Indians. Today he would marry them, and the weather was perfect, beautiful, as though God had designed the day just for this special moment. There would be no fancy church, but they would be surrounded by new friends who truly seemed to want the very best for them.

Finally, tonight, after being unable to make love for the last three weeks, they would be free to be together. The Mormons had prepared a place for them to spend the night with a little privacy. They had cleared out one of their own wagons, one which was much bigger than Jake and Miranda’s own wagon, and it had been pulled several yards from the fort grounds and covered with mosquito netting. A feather mattress and blankets, water and a wash pan, and other necessities were left inside, and Miranda thought how that wagon would seem just as wonderful to her tonight as a fancy hotel. She would be with Jake, would be his wife, and that was all that mattered. The wagon was the Mormons’ thank-you to Jake for all he had done for them. The women had baked a cake over a campfire in a Dutch oven; the fort commander had offered a four-piece band consisting of two fiddles, a trumpet, and a guitar; and the Mormons had offered some of their own precious belongings as gifts—handmade quilts, a few dishes and blankets, even a hand-crocheted lace tablecloth.