by Emily Woods
“What? Uh, no, ma'am.”
Jeremiah bit into his sandwich and began chewing...and chewing...and chewing. He didn't say a thing, but eventually took a long swallow of cold coffee and worked the sandwich around in his mouth more.
Emma took up her own sandwich and started to eat. Very quickly, she realized the problem: the bread had become hard over the course of the morning and the bacon was terribly slimy.
“Oh no!” she exclaimed in dismay, practically throwing the sandwich back down on the plate. “What did I do wrong?”
Grace overheard her cry and came over. Within a few minutes, it was explained to her that she had to keep the bread and bacon wrapped up over the morning.
“I'm really sorry,” Emma said to the two men. “We usually ate whatever I bought pretty quickly, and whatever I did to the bread this morning is obviously very different from what the bakery does back home. Our bread would last us all day and sometimes stretch into the second day.” But she’d forgotten that the bread had always been wrapped in paper.
Grace offered the men some of her lunch, which Tommy accepted quickly enough, but Jeremiah shook his head. “It's not so bad,” Jeremiah assured her, taking another big bite out of his sandwich. “Good for the teeth.”
Emma laughed and cried at the same time. “Please take up Missus Riley on her offer. You're going to lose your teeth on those sandwiches.”
“And what will you do with them? Throw them away? No thanks. I hate to see anything go to waste.”
Her boys weren't as concerned about hurting her feelings and followed Tommy's lead in accepting sandwiches from their neighbor.
“Everyone has to start somewhere, my dear,” Grace comforted. “Tomorrow, you'll do better.”
Emma groaned. “But what about tonight?”
That made everyone chuckle a little.
“Tonight, we will cook together,” Grace declared. “And I will teach you everything I know.”
Wishing that she had the courage to admit why her cooking skills were so deficient, Emma merely nodded and accepted the offer, if not for her own sake, then for the men and children who were being subjected to her cooking. She appreciated that Jeremiah had pushed through and eaten the sandwiches that were essentially bread-flavored rocks, but she didn't want to do that to him again.
The afternoon was warm, but not intolerable. Robbie managed to walk for over an hour before Jeremiah hoisted him up on his horse again, claiming that he needed his assistant. Emma felt her eyes water again and told Jacob that it was dustier than she thought. Being the last wagon, they were subjected to the dust from the others, but she wouldn't complain. It would be different tomorrow. Jeremiah had promised.
5
Dinner that night was an adventure. After they'd circled the wagons, the men had gone hunting and found rabbits and squirrels. At first, Emma thought her stomach might revolt at the thought of eating the rodents, but Grace assured her that she wouldn't notice the difference between this meat and chicken. They made a stew out of the squirrel meat and roasted the rabbit over the fire. Along with that, they made rice and poured the stew over it.
Emma watched with anticipation as Jeremiah and Tommy came toward them. Her own children had already eaten and declared the food acceptable, but this was the real test.
Both men ate heartily that night, and Emma could detect no sign that they were pretending. The food was not what she was used to, but it was edible enough.
“The rice is a little undercooked,” she apologized as they ate. “I guess I didn't put enough water in it.”
“Tastes fine to me,” Jeremiah said around a mouthful. “Best meal I've had in weeks.”
“Really?” That compliment pleased her more than she could say. “I'm glad. And, just so you know, there is dessert.”
Both men's eyes widened in anticipation. “What is that?”
Grace had brought some blueberry preserves with her, and together, they'd made a pie. Emma honestly admitted that Grace had essentially made the pie while she'd handed her the ingredients. After cutting each of the men a generous piece, Emma called the children over and gave each one a piece. There were twelve people to feed, including the preacher’s protégée, a young man who seemed to divide his time between listening to Preacher John and trying to catch the attention of their beautiful daughter. Joseph Brown was an awkward young man, and Emma suspected that Hope barely gave him a thought. She pitied the boy.
Lastly, she and Grace had a small piece each. It wasn't the same as what she'd eaten in fine restaurants over the years, nor was it quite like the pie she'd had bought from the bakery, but it was much, much better than what she could have expected from a cast-iron pot.
After dinner, all the children received lessons from Grace and Emma for about one hour, including Hope, before being allowed to play. However, as the sun set, they were all scrubbed and put to bed.
“Nice night,” Jeremiah commented over yet another cup of coffee. Emma marveled at how much he could drink.
“How do you sleep after drinking all that?” she asked him. “If I even have one cup after dinner, I'm up for hours.”
He laughed and lifted one shoulder. “I don't generally sleep much, and I guess I've been drinking it for so long that my body's used to it.”
Giving him a sidelong glance, she quipped, “That's probably why you don't sleep!”
The adults laughed at that, but most of them joined Jeremiah in a refill.
A short time later, Emma asked Grace and Preacher John about their reasons for going west. She felt that they were a bit vague in their answer about starting a mission, but she wasn't about to question them.
“I'm sure many people were saddened by your leaving,” she remarked, believing that they must have left a decent-sized congregation.
However, a strange look came over both of their faces. Grace seemed somewhat agitated and was about to respond when her husband put a restraining hand on her arm.
“We have left many friends behind,” he said quietly, but Emma knew there was more to the story by the pinched look on Grace's face. “But we're looking forward to a new chapter in our lives.”
It seemed like the subject was closed, so Emma began collecting the cups to rinse out with the help of the couple’s daughter.
“How did you first day go?” she asked the girl.
Hope shrugged a little, her pretty lips turning down. Her long blonde hair was woven into a braid which she now carelessly flipped over her shoulder. “I’m not really used to walking so much, but there’s no point in complaining. We needed to leave.”
Her turn of phrase was startling, but Emma pretended not to notice.
“I also need a new start,” Emma admitted to her. “I suspect most of us do. That's why we're taking this risk, right?” It was only the first day of a hundred and fifty or more, so she wasn't about to discuss her whole story now, if ever, but she did feel better knowing that she wasn't the only one in a difficult situation. The girl gave another little shrug and turned to go without even saying good night. Emma decided not to take offense. Seventeen was a difficult age to begin with. Leaving your home and trekking across the country probably exacerbated any problems the girl had.
Lying down beside her children a short time later, Emma tried to pray. There were so many thoughts rushing around in her brain that she had a hard time focusing on just one to pray about. She asked God to help her settle her mind first and foremost.
Taking a few deep breaths, she inhaled the scent of her beloved boys. Even though they'd been scrubbed, the faint smell of sweat was discernible. She smiled slightly and gazed at their forms, just barely visible in the light of the moon that penetrated their thin tent.
“Thank you for them, Lord,” she whispered. Without them, she wasn't sure she'd have the strength to start over. If she'd just been a widow, shunned from proper society, she might have ended up in a workshop...or worse. But these children gave her purpose, and she felt a spark of energy ignite in her chest, renewing h
er hopes for the future. From there, she went on to pray for everyone in the camp, focusing on the preacher's family, and then asked for a special blessing for Jeremiah.
When his face entered her mind, her heart did a funny little turn in her chest, but she ignored it. Of course she felt grateful to him, but that was all.
That was all she could afford to feel.
Jeremiah closed his journal and extinguished the lantern. A smile on his face, he lay back, linking his fingers behind his head. It'd been a good first day. They'd made it at least ten miles, if not more. Generally, he didn't push the train in the beginning. There was so much to get used to, mostly the pace, that he didn't expect too much. However, this group seemed especially keen. He felt that boded well for the future. Perhaps he could even break his record of one hundred and thirty-nine days.
A small worry niggled at his mind when he thought of Robbie. He wished that Emma had told him about the boy's sickness. It was hard to know now if it would've affected his decision or not about letting them come. From the first moment he'd laid eyes on her, he felt a connection. She didn't seem to be aware of it yet, but he hoped that would come in time.
But now, to have a child with walking issue was going to add to the strain. He hoped that because Robbie was the youngest one on the train, he could always use that excuse if anyone asked him why he was carrying him.
The boy had proved to be a pleasant distraction. His questions were not tiresome like those of other boys his age. He had a keen eye and spent most of his time scanning the horizon as Jeremiah had asked. Every so often, he exclaimed at some sight, but Jeremiah found it refreshing to see the land through a different set of eyes.
Emma had worried every time they passed her wagon, telling him that Robbie was stronger than he looked, or offering to put him in the back of the wagon if his walking held up the train, but Jeremiah was having none of it.
“Why are you trying to take away my assistant?” he pretended to complain. “I guess your mother doesn't care about the well-being of the people here.”
That had elicited a laugh from everyone, Jacob included. He had wondered if the older boy might be jealous of the attention he was paying to Robbie and tried to include him, offering to let him ride one of the other horses, but Jacob shook his head and said he'd rather walk. Jeremiah suspected that he didn't want to leave Emma alone, and his estimation of the boy rose. He also seemed to understand that his brother was special and didn't begrudge him the extra help.
His heart now swelled with the hope that he would be able to call these boys his own one day. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he might even be praying for it to happen, but he wouldn't acknowledge that to anyone.
Especially not to himself.
A week later, getting everyone going in the mornings was a little easier because they were a bit more familiar with the process. Jeremiah knew that by the end of the month, the morning routine would become second nature and they would be on their way fifteen minutes or so faster. By the end of the trip, they could shave even more off their time as the people would learn to move like a well-oiled machine.
“I made something special for breakfast,” Emma announced as she handed him a plate. He looked at the Johnny cakes, folded one up in his hand, and took a bite. It was one of the most honorable things that he ever did not to spit it out directly. He chewed, swallowed, and tried for a smile.
“Thanks,” he said. “Uh, is this the first one?” He suspected that it was. From the expectant look on her face, he knew that no one else had eaten one or she would've known.
“Yes. I just made it.”
“Hmm. Can I ask what you used?”
Now a frown lowered her brow, and she flipped the second one that was in the pan. “Just what Grace told me: eggs, milk, water, salt, sugar, cornmeal, and lard. What's wrong with it? It looks perfect.”
The second one was done, so Emma fished it out of the pan with a fork and blew on it before taking a bite. Her nose wrinkled in displeasure, and her shoulders sagged.
“I promise I did everything Grace told me. I guess ingredients are just bound to fail in my hands. Jeremiah, I'm so sorry. Don't eat the rest of that.”
She tried to take the cake out of his hand, but he held it just out of reach.
“Take me through the recipe and show me what utensils you used.”
It didn't take long to figure out that she'd used the wrong spoon for the salt and baking powder. He made some adjustments to the remaining batter and had her try again. This time, the Johnny cakes came out perfectly.
Emma sighed. “Here I was supposed to be cooking for you, and you're mostly just suffering.”
“Ah, well, it wasn't that bad. I've eaten worse,” he tried to console her, dipping the bad Johnny cake in molasses and eating it. The sweet substance nearly took away the bad taste. “And you're just learning...aren't you?”
Eyes shimmering with frustration, Emma nodded. “I'm sorry I lied to you about that as well as about Robbie. Maybe you should just turn us back now.”
He knew that if he didn't say something quickly, she was in danger of falling into despair.
“Come on now, things aren't that bad. Besides, your boys are going to love it in the west. Robbie's already talking about how he wants to be a rancher and build a barn as tall as a mountain. I didn't have the heart to tell him it would collapse. And Jacob, well, he's just as eager as his brother.”
He watched her swallow hard. “It just feels like I made a bad choice. Maybe I didn't listen to God clearly and just did what I wanted.”
He tensed up at the mention of God, not knowing what to say. Would this prove to be a problem, her faith? He should have known that she was a believer. Most women were Christian, or at least claimed to be. Those who didn't, well, he felt sorry for anyone who had to live that kind of life.
“I'm not really the best one to ask about that kind of thing,” he admitted. “Maybe you better talk to the preacher or his wife, but I'll tell you one thing.” He reached over and picked up one of the new Johnny cakes. “This is real good.”
A wry smile pulled on the corners of her mouth. “You're basically complimenting yourself, you know.”
Laughing around a mouthful of food, Jeremiah nodded. “Maybe, but I have a feeling you won't make the same mistake twice. We all start somewhere.”
Emma sighed and turned over the next batch. “Yeah, I suppose, but sometimes, I feel I'm starting a mile behind everyone else.”
Jeremiah squatted in front of her and fished another cake out of the pan. “Don't worry, Miz Pearson. I'm good at reading people, and I can tell from looking at you that you'll make it.”
She blinked a couple times, then peeked up at him. “Really? What makes you say that?”
The hope on her face was just what he'd been looking for. Smiling in satisfaction, he stood again and looked down at her.
“Because,” he replied. “You're a woman of determination. I knew it the first time I set eyes on you.” He gave her a nod of approval. “And don't ever forget it.”
6
Emma found herself humming a little as she packed up the materials from breakfast. The words of affirmation from Jeremiah had propelled her into a better mood. Although it seemed apparent that he was not a strong believer, she felt that God was using him to help her. God could use anyone, even an unbeliever.
“Breakfast was real good,” Robbie complimented, scraping his plate with a tin fork to get the rest of the molasses.
Jacob nodded. “You're getting the hang of cooking, Ma. I knew you would.”
She smiled a little and nodded. “I think I might be, with a little help from the others.”
“Was Captain Holt helping you this morning?” Robbie asked as he reluctantly accepted that there was no more molasses to be had and handed over his plate for washing.
“Nothing gets past you, does it?” She reached over and stroked his cheek with the back of her hand. “Yes, he did. I was surprised to find he knows so much about cookin
g. I'm beginning to think that he didn't need me to cook for him at all.”
“Then why did he ask you?” Jacob frowned a little. “Is he just lazy?”
The question made Emma laugh. “I don't think he knows how to be lazy, my son. No, if I had to guess, I'd say that he would rather have someone else do it so he can focus on other things.”
That seemed to satisfy Jacob, and he finished his breakfast before helping pack everything up.
At seven exactly, the bugle sounded and they were on their way. Today was their turn to be at the front and she looked forward to a day of not having to endure any dust. The sun was shining brightly, and Emma pulled her bonnet forward a little to avoid getting burned. Having a darker complexion helped somewhat, but she was still prone to burning.
Around mid-morning, Jeremiah came by and picked up Robbie, claiming he needed him for a job. Emma didn't object and just handed him up without comment. Jeremiah gave her such a warm smile that she felt it all the way down to her toes. Her stomach tingled and her limbs went numb.
“Oh no,” she whispered to herself, feeling a blush creep up her neck. “No, no, no.”
“What's the matter, Ma?” Jacob asked. “Did you forget something back at the campgrounds? I can run and get it.”
“What?” She looked down at her son in confusion. “Oh, no, my dear. That's not it. I, uh, just...” But no suitable reply came to her mind. “I'm just confused about something.”
That was the truth, but there was so much more. She blinked as she stared at the empty horizon. Was her mind playing tricks on her? Was she just lonely?
Or was she really falling for Jeremiah Holt?
There was actually nothing of particular worry that Jeremiah had on his mind that day, but he liked having Robbie with him.
“Will there be mountains where we're going?” the boy asked as he stared straight ahead. “I really want to see some mountains.”