Page 28 of My Darling Clementine

“You better be talking about mules, mister,” Kizzy teased. “You’re getting a smart wife, but not a complacent one.”

“Uh oh, Dennison,” laughed Mr. Cushing, separating eight of the big strong ones, and a smaller one from the center of the herd as Clem pointed them out. “Looks like you’re marrying a fair match of wits.”

“Looks like,” agreed Clem, watching Kizzy move around the mules until stopping to scratch the short one between the ears. “She is full of surprises.”

Knowing Clem’s experience first-hand, Mr. Cushing sent them off with their team. “We leave day after tomorrow. Be here, hitched in both senses of the word, and ready at dawn on Friday.” He turned to greet a pair of brothers driving up with four skittish horses harnessed to a huge prairie schooner. “Damn fools,” he muttered, “I told them oxen or mules.” He looked back over his shoulder. “I’ll see you tonight at the wedding. Save me a dance, missus, and thanks for the invite.”

“Nice man,” noted Kizzy.

“He’s nice now, but he’s a trail boss. When we’re crossing dangerous territory, he’s the one who keeps us alive. When we’re out there, he’s all business, let me tell you. What he says goes, or he’ll cut you out of the train and leave you to fend for yourself.” Clem nodded. “He knows much more than me, so if he says to run, I go ‘til I drop.” She snorted. “If anyone can get us across the prairie, over the mountains, and to California before Christmas, it is Jed Cushing.”

“I am surprised there is a wagon train leaving again this year.” Kizzy shook her head in amazement. “I thought I’d need to get a job and wait until next spring.” She walked arm in arm with Clem. “This is so much better. We’ll be able to start mining before the New Year!” She skipped with light steps.

“We’ve got to stake a claim, first.” Leading the roped mules up to their wagon, her tall, handsome, soon-to-be-husband harnessed the four largest animals in their traces in no time at all, then strung the other five out in a line tied to the back of the wagon.

“Let’s see how she rides before we load her up, what do you say? Take her out for a trial run down by the train tracks? We’ve got another,” she pulled out her pocket watch, popped it open and checked, “hour before your scheduled bath.”

“Help me up, Mr. Dennison?” Kizzy batted her lashes at Clem with her best winning smile before turning toward the driver’s seat.

Clem stepped up behind her. “Delighted to help, Miss Walker.”

“It’s a relief to know I won’t be Kizzy Kabobblebopper. That’s quite a mouthful.”

Clem placed both hands on her waist, but instead of lifting Kizzy, whispered in her ear, “A friend in Boston, with many talents and a sense of whimsy, created silly calling cards for me. I wanted to see if you’d appreciate my sense of humor.” Clem’s hands tightened, she lifted Kizzy up, and with a cheeky push to her bottom, launched her into the driver’s seat box.

Laughing, she watched Clem clamber up after her and take the reins. “You really do know what you’re doing, don’t you?” she said, impressed.

“I spent every day of four months doing nothing but this,” she said, clicking her tongue and shaking the reins. “I learned a lot, thought about it while mining, planned my return trip while in Boston, and could drive a wagon in my sleep. I think I have a time or two,” she tugged, twitching the lead mule on the left back into step, “but only after the animals and I get to know each other.” She turned her handsome face to gaze at Kizzy, eyes dancing as they rumbled down the dirt road, taking a right at the train tracks and heading north out of town. “Right now, I’d rather get to know the woman I’m about to marry.”

Kizzy nodded. More excited than ever before, but feeling like she was facing a firing squad, she squared her shoulders. “What would you like to know?”

Chapter eight

Questions

Kizzy’s voice held a brave mixture of worry and challenge. Clem could tell she was nervous. Hell, so was she as the incredible beauty stared up at her. She cleared her throat. “Um, let’s start with the simple stuff. How old are you?”

Clear blue eyes met hers. “Eighteen, last month on the Fourth of July. You?”

“Twenty-four next May.”

Clem handed Kizzy the reins, impressed as the younger woman displayed her abilities. “You’ve driven a team before,” she noted, turning to examine her profile. “You’re of an age to consent, which is important, and your name is Keziah Walker.”

“Well, it’s the name I grew up with, but I’m not attached to it now that I know it’s not mine by paternity.” She licked her generous lips with a quick tongue, eyes flicking toward Clem and away.

She spent a moment deciphering Kizzy’s remark. “You’ve recently discovered you’re a bastard…uh…illegitimate?” She quirked her head and raised an eyebrow.

“Oh no, I’m legitimate. My mother married him before giving birth, but he sure didn’t sire me. Best news I’ve ever gotten.” Kizzy nodded. “My father, or the man I thought was my father, is a blow-hard minister, more interested in being heard than saying anything important.”

She took a deep breath, handed the reins back to Clem, and fanned her face, wiping her neck. “Last Saturday night he caught me with a woman in the choir loft. He threw me out of the house, denounced me in church, and bought me a one-way ticket to Independence with a warning to never come back. I hate him.”

Clem squeezed her waist and changed the subject. “Why do you want to mine for gold?” Rewarded when blue eyes lifted in response, she basked in the sunshine of Kizzy’s smile.

“Who doesn’t want to?” she chirped. “I read everything about the gold strikes. There are stories about people finding gold everywhere, someone even took a bath in a stream, and found a nugget lodged between his toes.” She laughed, her eyes dancing. “How exciting it must be, all that wealth just lying around, waiting to be found.” The beautiful young woman she’d decided to marry bounced up and down in her seat as the empty wagon jostled and jiggled along.

“There’s dirty, heavy, tiring work involved, but yes, finding the yellow stuff is very exciting.”

“You found some?” Kizzy’s warm hands clutched her forearm.