Ana Seymour Read Free Page A

Jebsnatched his hat off and ran a hand back through his unruly, light brown hair.
    “All the way from Ireland,” Kerry said firmly. “And now it’s going all the way to California.”
    Jeb looked uncertain. The expression didn’t sit naturally on his face. He stretched his neck to look around toward the front of the wagon where the team of four oxen grazed placidly. “The more weight your oxen pull, the more water they’ll need.” Jeb put on his hat and pushed it to the back of his head. “Water can get mighty precious along the trail.”
    Kerry had begun to relax. Though he had given her some strange glances, it appeared Captain Hunter was not going to question her identity as the son of Sean Gallivan. “I’ve noticed that many of the families are bringing along a milk cow. Will their cows need water, Captain?”
    He gave a reluctant smile. “I reckon they will.”
    Kerry nodded. “Then you can just consider the extra equipment to be our milk cow.”
    Jeb pulled himself back on his horse in an easy, natural motion that did something queer to Kerry’s insides. “I’ll make a bargain with you. Cut this stuff in half.” He gestured to the freight wagon. “Leave the plow, one of those toolboxes, whatever else you can. There’ll be a representative from Boone’s out later on this afternoon to take back any leftover supplies. He’ll probably give you some money for whatever you have to leave behind.”
    “Captain Hunter, my brother and I have already had to leave the body of our father behind in St Louis. I intend to take whatever else I can of him to California.” Kerry realized that her voice had trembledslightly. Furiously she bit painfully into her lower lip. But her emotion had apparently not affected Jeb Hunter.
    “I’m sorry. At least half that pile stays here…or you and your entire wagon stay. Take your choice. We leave at dawn, boys. I’ll leave you alone to make your decision.”
    When Kerry made no reply, Patrick said, “Thank you, Captain. We’ll be ready to go at dawn.”
    Jeb took a last look over at the freight wagon. “Just remember we’ve got two sets of mountains to cross before you get to the California. My best advice to you is to travel as light as possible.”
    Then he wheeled his horse and rode off, sending up a cloud of dust that stung Kerry’s eyes.
    “Maybe he’s right, Kerry,” Patrick said after a moment. “We don’t really need all those things. I can get new tools when we get out there, and then I’ll make whatever else we need.”
    Kerry had a sudden vision of her brother as a small boy sitting at their father’s side, earnestly copying each move of Sean Gallivan’s sure, swift hands. She blinked hard and let the tears well up to wash away the dust. “We’re going to build Papa’s ranch in California, Patrick. It’s going to be every bit as rich and beautiful as he dreamed. And,” she added fiercely, “we’re going to do it with his grandfather’s tools.”
    They had worked through the night. The settlers’ representative, Frank Todd, had ridden up at dusk to invite them to a campfire and farewell party, but they had politely declined and continued shifting and shoving and unloading and reloading until the inside oftheir wagon was more intricately arranged than a Chinese puzzle. It had been almost dawn before Kerry had been satisfied that everything was packed. The two big toolboxes were covered with supplies, impossible to see from any angle. Everything was on board except for a box from the Boone store labeled Meat Cakes.
    “I think I’d have trouble getting one of these things down anyway,” she’d told her brother.
    “They’re not so bad,” he’d replied, munching on one. “At least they’re not fish.”
    When their father had become fanatical about his plans for the journey to California, they’d saved money by eating the broken and sometimes half-spoiled pieces of fish Patrick had been able to bring home each day from the docks. Now