Trapper removed his hat. “I’m Trapper Hawkins. You’re doing me a great favor, ma’am.”
The nurse came back as men finished loading the wagon. “I’d like to introduce my little ladies before I leave them with you.”
She started with the oldest. “Catherine Claire, thirteen. Anna Jane, eleven. Elizabeth Rose, ten. Helen Wren five.” The nurse pointed to the smallest, still in the widow’s arms. “Sophia May is four. Colonel Chapman had three wives. All died in childbirth and none gave him a son. Poor man.”
Trapper studied them as the nurse gave instructions to Mrs. Adams and marched back to the boat. The tallest daughter, with her blond hair, would probably be from the first wife. Two and Three from a redheaded wife. And Four and Five from the third wife. He’d guess that wife had brown hair and big brown eyes.
Trapper turned to his charges. “Look, little ladies, I doubt I’ll straighten those names out in three weeks, so how about I call you in order by number?” He pointed to the tall blonde, first in line. “One.” Then the two auburn-haired girls. “Two and Three.” He smiled at the next and couldn’t help but laugh as she giggled, waiting for her number. “Four,” he said, touching her nose. The tiny one waited for her new name. “You’re Five. It’s a game we’ll play.” He glanced at the widow. “A secret game. Like code names.”
When he noticed the widow asked no questions, he added, “Only we have to call her Mrs. Adams. She deserves our respect. She lost her man in the war.”
All the girls nodded except Five. She was spinning around again like an unbalanced top.
Chapter 4
After a stop at the outhouse behind the church, Trapper headed out smiling. He could almost feel the five hundred dollars in his hand. For once he was planning a future and not running away from a past.
This might work, thanks to the widow. She’d watch over the girls and help with the cooking. She didn’t even want to be paid. Just a ride to Dallas. How lucky could he get? She was pretty too, but sad and pale. With no husband she probably thought she had the weight of the world on those little shoulders.
An hour out of town Number One crawled up on the bench with him. She looked as proper as if she was sitting in church. “Mr. Trapper.”
“Just Trapper,” he corrected.
“Mr. Trapper,” she insisted. “I was wondering if I could man the reins.”
“You know how to handle a wagon?” He swore her pointed little nose went up two inches. “A four-horse rig.”
“I’m Colonel Chapman’s daughter, sir. I assure you, I was driving a wagon by the time I was six, riding at four.”
Trapper was impressed. He handed her the reins. The road was pointed straight west and dry. How much trouble could she get into?
Ten minutes later he decided she was better than he was at handling the team. “Any time you want to drive just let me know, One.”
She smiled. “I’m thirteen years old, sir. I’m almost grown. We will get along fine if you remember that fact.”
“Almost,” he whispered as he watched the countryside passing. He’d been an “almost” when he’d joined the army. Now, at twenty-four, he felt like an old man. He’d seen enough fighting and dying to last him ten lifetimes.
He smiled. Widow Adams would take care of the girls and One could drive when he circled back to make sure they weren’t being followed. This trip was going to be easy.
He heard the girls in the back singing songs. Farms spotted the land, and now and then a farmer waved from the winter fields. This was going to be the easiest money he’d ever make.
An hour later Trapper wasn’t so sure. Number Four poked her head out of the canvas cover. “I have to stop to take care of private things, Mr. Tapper.”
“Trapper,” he corrected.
“I need to take care of private things, Mr. Tapper!”
She wasn’t listening to him and he wasn’t understanding her.
When Trapper raised his eyebrows, Mrs. Adams whispered, “Chamber pot.”
“I didn’t bring one.” He started wondering if he needed to drive back to get one. He’d never been around women. He’d talked to girls in grade school when his dad let him go, and he’d managed to have a few conversations with ladies over the years, but he’d never asked about how they handled private things. In fact he’d never seen the nude body of a woman except in pictures over a few bars. Even if he’d wanted to court a girl after the war, none would be interested in him.
To his surprise, all the girls looked confused including the little widow.
Number Five helped him out as her little hand patted him on the shoulder. “Please stop and help up us down, Mr. Tapper. We know what to do.” The mispronouncing of his name was spreading.
“All of you?”