Journey of the Eagle
A Western Romance
by Priscilla A. Maine

Chapter One

“Papa, what if Alan has changed his mind?” Danielle asked.

Nathaniel Alexander shifted the leather lead lines in his big hands before responding to his daughter’s question. “What if you have, you mean.”

“Well, it’s been months since Alan left for California. A lot of things could have happened to make him change his mind about our engagement.” Danielle refused to look up at her father, knowing he knew her too well to hide her doubts from him for long.

“If he loves you, no amount of time nor distance will change his feelings.” Nathaniel wiped sweat from his brow. “Daughter, it’s normal to have uncertainties. Marriage is a big step and shouldn’t be taken lightly.”

When he paused, Danielle glanced up and noticed her father flexing the fingers of his left hand. Moisture beaded his forehead, though the morning wasn’t unduly warm. She also observed the paleness of his skin. “Are you having that pain in your chest again, Papa?”

“Don’t try to change the subject on me, young lady. My health is no cause for concern.” Again, he swiped his brow. “You are the one I’m worried about.” From his perch on the wagon’s seat, Nathaniel watched his daughter walking beside the team. “Danielle, remember it’s never too late to....”

When her father didn’t finish his sentence, Danielle looked up and saw him clutching his chest, his face a purplish hue and contorted with pain. “Papa! Someone help me!” She grabbed for the reins dangling over the side of the wagon. Her fingers had barely locked about the leather straps when she heard a horse galloping toward her. She turned toward the sound, expecting to find the Wagon Master or another of the men from the train. Instead, the rider was someone she didn’t know. But before she had time to ponder the situation further, her billowing skirts tangled about her legs causing her to stumble, then fall. In a cloud of dust and yards of gingham, her bottom smacked the hard-packed ground, but her fingers still clutched the lines to the horses.

“Are you hurt, ma’am?” a deep, husky voice asked.

Before she could catch her breath to reply, she felt him jerk her skirt-tent away. She looked up into the most striking green eyes she’d ever seen, and they seemed to be devouring her. Even in her distraught condition, those eyes held her captive longer than they should. She felt an unfamiliar tightening in the lower region of her stomach and a flutter in her heart.

“Here, let me help you.” Strong hands pulled her to her feet, leaving her only inches from his broad chest. A heady masculine scent filled her nostrils, disturbing her even more. “You all right?”

That baritone voice snatched her to her senses. “Papa.” She whirled about, almost losing her balance until strong fingers locked about her upper arm, steadying her. Danielle refused to look into those hypnotic eyes again. “Help him, please.”

“What’s going on here?” David Sutton, the Wagon Master, asked, stepping around the end of the wagon. “Why are you stopping?”

“It’s Papa. I think he’s sick,” Danielle replied, welcoming the reassuring presence of someone she knew.

“Go get Henry to help me with him,” Sutton instructed before turning to the stranger.

Danielle dashed off in search of Henry Logan. Henry, the youngest of three brothers traveling with the wagon train, had been helping Danielle and her father the past two weeks. Ever since the loss of one of the Logan’s own wagons, Nathaniel had hired the young man to spare Danielle from the heavier duties of harnessing and unharnessing the team, and gathering wood for their cookfire. The young man had even started taking his meals with the Alexanders in the evenings. In those passing weeks, Danielle had caught Henry watching her when he thought she wasn’t aware of his presence. She suspected the young man was forming more than a casual interest in her, but had brushed the suspicion aside.

When she and Henry arrived back at the Alexander wagon, they found Nathaniel lying on a folded quilt in the shade of a nearby oak tree. Reassured by the fact her father was now conscious, she whisper his name. “Papa.” Kneeling beside the makeshift bed, she took his hand in hers and new alarm raced through her at the heat emanating from his flesh.

“It’s all right, daughter. I just need to rest a bit.” The weakness in his voice sent a ripple of fear down her spine.

“You need a doctor,” Danielle replied, hoping her voice didn’t reveal the fear she felt. What on earth would she do if anything happened to him? He was the only family she had. Her mother had died when Danielle was nine, her grandparents soon afterward. It had been just her and her father these past ten years. She couldn’t imagine being without him.

“Mr. Riley here has offered to send a doctor out to check on your father, ma’am,” the Wagon Master said.

Danielle looked up and, realizing Mr. Sutton was referring to the green-eyed stranger, smiled weakly. “Tell him to hurry please.”

“I’ll do that, ma’am,” the man said. He tipped his hat and shifted his attention briefly to Henry Logan. He then turned and walked to his horse, gathered up the reins and mounted. “The Depot on Boggy is only two miles west of here. If he’s not out on a call, Doc Fulton should be here within the hour, Mr. Logan.”

Danielle wondered why he addressed this information to Henry, though it was only a fleeting thought. Her main concern centered on her father. But in the silence that followed the man’s departure, Danielle found herself wondering if she would ever see him again. Almost immediately she chastised herself. Why should it matter? Yet, she knew it did.

Less than an hour later, Doctor Fulton rode his lathered horse into the circle of wagons. After a quick examination of her father and a few questions, the doctor said, “Mr. Alexander, in my opinion, continuing west in your condition would be foolhardy.” He strapped his black leather bag to the pommel of his saddle while he spoke.

“I have no choice,” Nathaniel said. “I must get my daughter to her fiancé in California.”

“Then let her young man come here,” Fulton replied. “If you’re wise, you’ll take my advice and stay put.”

“Where?” Nathaniel asked.

“Well, I hear Frank Geary is selling his lease and moving his family back east. The cabin isn’t much, but it would serve your purpose. The place isn’t far from here. I’d look into it if I were you. In plain words, sir, your heart won’t take the strain.” The doctor turned to Danielle. “Make him as comfortable as possible, and under no circumstances should he exert himself. His gaze shifted to Nathaniel, then back to Danielle. “Unless you want to bury him here on the banks of Boggy.” With that cold announcement, the young doctor mounted his house. “If you need me, you know where to find me. Good day and good luck.”

“Then it’s settled,” David Sutton said, slapping his leather gloves against his leg. “Young Henry here will stay with you folks until you’re feeling up to travel. Then you can join up with us later. Sorry we can’t stay with you, but you understand that every minute counts if I’m to get these folks over them mountains before the snow falls. Nathaniel, I will get that message off to your daughter’s fiancé when we come to a town with a telegraph office.”

“I appreciate that, Sutton,” Nathaniel said.

The men had set up a bed under the big oak so Nathaniel would be off the ground and more comfortable. From there the three watched their fellow travelers pull out without them.

Only a thin wisp of dust remained of the wagon train’s departure when Nathaniel called Henry to his bedside. “Saddle up my gray. I want you to ride into that town up ahead and find out about that place the doctor mentioned.”

Danielle waited until young Logan rode off before approaching her father. “Papa, what is this all about? What message is Mr. Sutton sending to Alan? And what is this about housing here?” She pushed the thin quilt back a bit and sat on the edge of her father’s bed. “What is it you’re not telling me?”

“Daughter, it’s time you faced the truth,” Nathaniel said, taking her hand in his. “I may not be able to continue to California.” When Danielle started to object, he silenced her with his uplifted hand. “Just listen to me. Hear me out.” His fingers stroked her hand a moment before he continued. “Your safety and welfare are all that matter to me. If for any reason I should have to leave you, I want to know you are settled in a safe place with folks nearby to look after you. I can’t be assured of that if we continue and I should fall ill... or die.”

“Papa...”

“You must face that possibility. I have. I’ve asked Sutton to telegraph Alan where to find us.”

“Then you have no intention of joining the train later?” Danielle interrupted.

“No. I have sent young Henry to find us a place here, if he can. I have arranged with his brothers to sell them one of our wagons and teams and send Henry on to join them a bit later. You and I will wait here for Alan.” When he hesitated, Danielle thought for a moment he would say no more. But he did. “Remember this, daughter, there is no shame in changing one’s mind. If for any reason you should decide that you and Alan...well, just know that I would never want you to keep your betrothal if in your heart you feel it’s not right. Your happiness is all that truly matters. Will you remember that?”

His announcement alarmed Danielle more than she cared to admit. Her own doubts had plagued her ever since her father had sold his newspaper and they had started for California. But for some reason, her father’s words troubled her more than her own uncertainties.

Later that day Henry returned with news that he had found the man wanting to sell his land lease. “Mr. Geary says white settlers can’t own land here in Indian Territory. But they can lease it from the Indians. His place is a one-hundred-sixty-acre plot with a cabin. Mrs. Geary wants to go back east where her family lives. So he’s letting his lease go cheap.”

“We’ll take it.”

“Papa, you haven’t even seen it!” Danielle objected.

“We’ll take it.”

Less than a week later, Danielle and her father were settled in the one-room cabin and Henry Logan had departed. Before leaving, Henry helped Danielle stack the furniture as best they could in the tiny space and chinked the cracks in the log walls with newspaper and rags. The first few days in the cramped room Danielle tried to make order out of the chaos of boxes, trunks, and valises. It proved useless. The third day, after settling her father down for a morning nap, she took a light shawl and strolled across the open meadow behind the cabin.

She hadn’t noticed how long or how far she had walked until she heard the galloping hoofbeats of an approaching horse. Quickly she glanced around and realized she’d come farther than she had intended. She could barely see the small log house in the distance. That fact didn’t actually bother her. In the week since moving in, she hadn’t seen another soul. The sight of the rider coming toward her was one she welcomed instead of feared.

When the rider drew close enough for her to identify him, she felt a flutter race through her stomach and a warmth flood her veins. She self-consciously ran a hand through her tangled hair, then across the wrinkled fabric of her walking skirt as she had neglected her appearance for more than a week.

The green-eyed stranger drew his mount to a halt and tipped his hat.

“Good morning,” Danielle said, doing her best to hide the quaver in her voice.

“Ma’am.”

His husky statement stroked her taut senses, summoning her first thrust of alarm at being caught alone. Avoiding his eyes as best she could without being obvious, she pulled her shawl about her shoulders and asked, “What brings you by, sir?”

“I hadn’t intended to stop.”

His voice took on a gruff quality that surprised Danielle. He appeared upset, but she couldn’t imagine why.

“Do you often wander about without protection?” he snapped, glancing at her hand that still clutched the shawl.

Danielle followed his gaze, and realized he was looking at her emerald betrothal ring. She nudged the golden band with her finger, twisting the set inside the palm of her hand. Now why had she done that? Before she could analyze her action, he spoke again.

“If you were my woman, I wouldn’t allow you out of my sight.”

“But I’m not.” She ventured a quick glance upward and found his eyes locked on her. It took all her willpower to look away. Why did this man upset her so? What was it about him that caused her to feel so drawn to him while upsetting her at the same time?

“No, you’re not.”

When he said that, Danielle thought she saw a fleeting pain cloud his eyes.

“But you should know that this is not the safest place to roam about,” he continued. “In fact, this is a very vulnerable location. You folks sit smack in the middle of the main roads headed west. And not all the travelers are law-abiding folk.” He paused as if for emphasis. “It is also a favorite of the Plains Indians when they want to raid and plunder.”

Danielle looked up at him. A weak smile toyed with the edges of his full lips, and she saw a faint gleam in the depths of his eyes.

“Just a word of caution, ma’am. If your man doesn’t care any more about you than to let you wander alone, at least carry a gun.”

How dare he talk to her like that? Who did he think he was? Well, he might have the most luscious eyes and cause her heart to skip a beat with his striking good looks, but she didn’t care a whit for his bossy attitude. Because of that, she didn’t bother explaining that Henry, who he obviously had mistaken for her husband or her intended, was neither. Nor did she tell him that the young man was no longer even there. “I’ll be sure to remember. Good day, sir,” she forced the words between her clenched teeth.

As he rode away, Danielle felt as if her knees wouldn’t support her. She collapsed on the carpet of lush prairie grass and contemplated her own sanity. How else could she explain her reactions to this stranger?

That night she wrote Alan a long letter. The next morning she settled her father down for a nap and walked to the Depot on Boggy to post her mail. Riding her father’s big gray mare would have been faster and easier. But Danielle had an ingrained dislike and distrust of horses, so she made the two-mile trek on foot.

When she returned, she found her father dead. Nathaniel Alexander had gone as far west as he would go. She buried him herself in the shade of the lonely oak at the edge of the yard.

Her father’s death left her alone in the heart of the Choctaw and Chickasaw Nation, Indian Territory, Oklahoma, among strangers. Possibly hostile strangers.