Her mother sidled up to her and touched her arm. “Are you all right, dear?”
Caroline nodded, not trusting herself to speak, but the motion was a lie.
How could she explain the depth of her shock and betrayal when Jackson—the man she’d loved since girlhood—suddenly married her sister?
She wasnotall right, and she doubted she ever would be again.
Caroline remained rooted to the spot as the crowd dispersed, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. She had always prided herself on her ability to do what was right, to put duty before her own desires. But now, watching the dust settle on the empty road, she was well and truly humbled, and she questioned whether she had the strength to face the days ahead.
Jackson blinked against the midday sun as he climbed out of the stagecoach at Fort Kearny, his eyes scanning the bustling station. The tall wooden poles that surrounded the military instillation gave him a sense of safety and familiarity while simultaneously resurrecting demons. He mentally shook off the past and focused on the present.
And the future.
He’d been mesmerized by the flat plains of Nebraska Territory whizzing past the window. The vast expanse of unfamiliar terrain was unnerving, but its untapped possibilities gave him a zealous optimism he hadn’t felt since before the war.
He took Amanda’s hand and helped her down. “Well, we've made it this far,” he said with a reassuring smile.
She nodded, her face pale beneath her hat. “So, we have.”
“I’d hoped the railroad would have reached the fort by now. I’m sorry we’ve had to spend so much time riding the stage.” The line extended past Omaha, but barely. “We’d best make a trip to the necessary before the driver finishes hitching a fresh team.”
Doing his best to conceal his limp, Jackson escorted her to the row of the outhouses, his arm twitching with the ingrained urge to salute every officer he passed. He hurried to make use of one while she was occupied, then rinsed his hands and refilled his canteen at the water pump.
Amanda’s steps faltered as they made their way back to the stagecoach.
Jackson placed a steadying hand on her elbow, guiding her through the crowd. “Are you feeling all right?”
She turned her face up and gave a weak smile. “Just a bit tired from the journey.”
It was more than fatigue, but he kept his mouth shut and his thoughts to himself. He’d caught her crying several times since leaving Pennsylvania. She missed her home, as any bride would who’d been whisked hundreds of miles away from all she’d known, but she cried most of all for her sister.
Jackson handed Amanda into the coach before turning to help the driver load and lash the trunks of the newcomers. As he worked, he couldn't shake the image of Caroline's face. No matter how much he consoled himself with platitudes about sacrifice and honor, the hurt in her eyes would haunt him for the rest of his days.
“All aboard!” the driver called.
Jackson climbed in, settling onto the firm leather seat beside Amanda, acutely feeling the weight of their shared secret. “It won't be easy,” he said as the coach lurched forward, “but we'll make a good life here. I promise you that.”
Amanda's hand found his. “I know we will,” she whispered, her voice breaking.
As the coach rolled toward Sagebrush Springs, Jackson found himself as close to tears as his bride. He had always prided himself on his honor, on doing what was right. Now hewondered if he could ever reconcile the man he’d been with the one he had become.
Early the next morning Jackson shielded his eyes and looked at the sun-bleached sign of Sagebrush Springs Livery. He didn’t need a sign to know he’d arrived, though. The air was thick with dust and the pungent smell of horse dung.
Amanda covered her nose with her handkerchief. “I’ll wait here.”
Jackson nodded then approached the weathered counter, where a middle-aged man with a long face and a grizzled moustache stood, wiping his hands on a rag. “Afternoon. I'm looking to purchase a team and wagon. Are you the man I need to see?”
The man grunted an affirmative. “Dewey Cook, at your service.”
“Jackson Maguire,” he replied.
“What brings you out to these parts?”
“I just purchased land west of here. My wife and I need transportation to get there, preferably horses and a wagon I can use to work the farm.”
Dewey scrunched his lips, tilting his moustache sideways. “Horses’re still scarce. I’ve got a nice matched pair, but they’ll cost you.”
“How much?”
