“I did,” she admitted. “I have seen Mr. Jenks; I have also seen Mr. Beeson; I have seen others of you in Benton. I was glad to know of somebody here. I rode on the construction train because it was the quickest and easiest way.”
“And those garments!” Captain Adams accused. 177 “You wish to show your shape, woman, to tempt men’s eyes with the flesh?”
She smiled.
“Would you have me jump from a train in skirts, sir? Or travel far afoot in crinoline? But to soothe your mind I will say that I wore these clothes under my proper attire and cloak until the last moment. And if you turn me away I shall cut my hair and continue as a boy.”
“If you are for Salt Lake—where we are of the Lord’s choosing and wish none of you—there is the stage,” he prompted shrewdly. “Go to the stage. You cannot make this wagon train your instrument.”
“The stage?” She slowly shook her head. “Why, I am too well known, sir, take that as you will. And the stage does not leave until morning. Much might happen between now and morning. I have nobody in Benton that I can depend upon—nobody that I dare depend upon. And by railway, for the East? No. That is too open a trail. I am running free of Benton and Pedro Montoyo, and stage and train won’t do the trick. I’ve thought that out.” She tossed back her head, deliberately turned. “Good-night, ladies and gentlemen.”
Involuntarily I started forward to intercept. The notion of her heading into the vastness and the gloom was appalling; the inertness of that increasing group, formed now of both men and women collected from all the camp, maddened. So I would have besought 178 her, pleaded with her, faced Montoyo for her—but a new voice mediated.
“She shall stay, Hyrum? For the night, at least? I will look after her.”
The Captain’s younger wife, Rachael, had stepped to him; laid one hand upon his arm—her smooth hair touched ashine by the firelight as she gazed up into his face. Pending reply I hastened directly to My Lady herself and detained her by her jacket sleeve.
“Wait,” I bade.