Jessica rose from the stump she used as a seat and took it from Finn’s hand. “Thanks, I appreciate your help.”
“Not nearly as much as I’m going to appreciate that kettle of food,” he told her. “And, not nearly as much as you’re going to enjoy my surprise for you.”
She slid a sidelong glance in his direction. “I’ll warrant I know what it is. Arlois told me about the creek even before we got here.” His mouth drooped, an expression she suspected he donned for her enjoyment, and she laughed softly. “You look like a little boy who’s just been denied a candy stick in the general store.”
Finn shook his head. “Women. Can’t put anything over on them. Here I thought I’d spring something on you, and you’re way ahead of me.” He settled beside her, watching as she dropped spoonfuls of the biscuit mix onto the simmering stew. “Does this mean you’re not going to let me finish out my plan?”
She scraped the final bit of dough into the pot and reached for the lid, clapping it in place. “You have a plan? If it involves filling my water barrel, I’m all for it.”
“Well, that, too,” he said teasingly. “I spoke to Harv Littleman and Dave Bates about taking our women to the stream to take baths tonight. Are you willing?”
“Depends,” she said, hesitating as the picture of clear water and a bar of soap tempted her mightily. “Will it be seemly for me to go with you?”
“You ladies can’t go alone,” Finn said firmly. “We’ll take you down to the stream and leave you there while we stand guard. I think there are several other women who want to go along. They’ll join us, and maybe their husbands, too.”
“Arlois said she feared the younger miners might try to sneak a peek at us.”
Finn’s mouth tightened and a stern look touched his features. “Not on your life, sweetheart. It will be as private as if you were in your bathtub in Saint Louis.”
“What bathtub?” she asked wryly. “I didn’t have one of my own after I left home to get married. It was one of the things I missed the most.”
“You should have gone back to your folks’ house a couple of times a week for a bath, then,” he told her, then frowned as he noted her silence and the quick bowing of her head. “What is it, Jessica? What did I say?”
“My parents washed their hands of me when I married Lyle,” she admitted. “Well, not actually right then, but later, when he’d stolen from my father’s company.” She looked up at Finn, hoping he would understand why she’d chosen Lyle over the mother and father who had loved her so.
“I’d promised to stay with him, for better or worse,” she said finally.
“And it only got worse, didn’t it?” His mouth had lost all traces of his usual good humor during their exchange and his eyes seemed to lose the sparkle she was wont to see in their depths. His hands touched hers and the bowl she held was lowered to sit on the ground at her feet, leaving her fingers free to twine with his.
“I’ve tried, especially on this trip, not to let others know how bad it was,” she said with a sigh.
“Most of those who traveled nearby your wagon knew you were being abused during the last weeks,” Finn told her, and she swallowed a protest. As though he read her mind, he nodded, a firm movement of his head. “There was no hiding the way he spoke to you, Jessica. And more than once you wore bruises.
“It was all I could do not to shoot him myself,” he admitted. “Jonas told me to stay out of it, that if you wanted help, then it would be time enough to interfere.”
“Lyle was difficult,” she said, looking down to where Finn clasped her hands in a grip so firm she thought she might never be turned loose from his hold. “You can let go of me,” she told him. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Not without me, anyway,” he said fervently. “From now on you’ll be mine to protect, Jess.”
“I haven’t said—”
“Look at me,” he said, cutting off her words with a wave of his hand. And then as if he saw something in her expression that made him hesitate, he only smiled. “Later on,” he said quietly. “We’ll talk after a while, when we’ve eaten and taken care of the bath detail down at the stream.”
She nodded, willing to set aside their discussion. Pewter bowls from the keg made an appearance within moments, and Jessica lifted the lid from the kettle a bit, peeping beneath to check on the dumplings. “I think they’re almost done,” she told him.
“I’ll wash up,” he said, reaching for the basin that hung on a hook beneath her wagon. “There’s fresh water on the water wagon, Jess. I’ll pour some in your barrel.”
She nodded, shooting him a smile of thanks. “All right. I’m beginning to run low.”
“We’ll fill all the barrels in the morning. Jonas said there’ll be time for the ladies to do their washing before we head out again and cross the stream. We’ll go upstream and make sure we dip clean water while the women get lines strung and scrub their clothes. We may be here for another full day.”
She sighed in anticipation of a day spent doing the small bits and pieces of household chores that would allow her to stay in one place, and then volunteered a bit of help in his direction.
“You’re doing so much for me, Finn. Let me do your washing tomorrow, why don’t you?” she offered. “It’s the least I can do in return for your hard work on my behalf.” He considered her for a moment, then nodded agreement before he turned away.
Her gaze remained on him as he headed for the water wagon, heard the murmur of his voice as he spoke to someone while he poured water from a bucket into her basin, and then watched as he returned. The man moved with a natural grace, she thought, his stride long, his shoulders wide, and his body lean and honed.
For so long a time she’d made certain not to look at another man, lest she set Lyle into a temper tantrum. It was no wonder she’d paid no attention to Finn during the early weeks of the trip west. Her instincts were for self-preservation, and one glance from her eyes toward anyone wearing trousers was all the excuse Lyle would have needed to punish her for her lapse.
Now, she thought with a sense of freedom, she could look at Finn Carson all she pleased. And it did please her, she admitted to herself. She had the right to pick and choose who she would speak with, the privilege of walking beside another woman, passing the time of day, should that be her inclination.
She turned back to the fire and lifted the lid of the kettle with a folded towel, setting it aside with care, lest she burn herself. Her large serving spoon held a dumpling and over-flowed with gravy and meat as she turned it out into a bowl. Another scoop of the spoon added a potato, bits of onion and more gravy.
“Looks good,” Finn said, standing at her elbow, waiting to take the bowl from her.
He sat by the fire and watched her as she served the second bowlful and then joined him, easing to the ground with care, accepting his hand for balance as she settled beside him.
They ate in silence, broken only when Finn rose to serve himself another bowlful of the stew and offered her seconds. She shook her head, and he nodded, settling down beside her again, only to nudge her with his elbow as he pointed to where two little boys ran back and forth, chasing a dog between the wagons.
“I’ve always wanted a dog,” she said as she scooped up the final bite from her bowl. “Lyle said they weren’t worth the food it takes to keep them alive.”
“I’ll get one for you if you like,” Finn told her. “But probably not until we get to the end of this trip. Hell, you can have two of ’em, if it’ll make you happy, Jess.”
She laughed