Mail Order Bride- Twenty-Two Brides Mega Boxed Set

by Emily Woods

  Thinking about women put him in mind of Margie. He really regretted what he'd said to her the other day. She hadn't looked his way since, not that she usually did, but it bothered him how much she seemed to avoid even being in the same vicinity as him now.

  This evening, she'd been forced to sit in front of him, and he was very aware of her presence. She, however, completely ignored him. For much of the time, he tried to think of how he could apologize to her, but in the end, he had nothing. He hoped that the next day would present an opportunity, but it didn't seem likely.

  Then, an idea popped into his mind, and he smiled.

  He knew just what to do.

  Margie was so fatigued the next day that she was barely able to get out of the wagon for breakfast. She had clearly overdone it the night before and spent the entire morning sleeping. However, the terrain was so rough and the wagon was jostled so roughly back and forth that she forced herself to get out and walk. The problem was she was so weak that she kept falling behind.

  After less than one hour of walking, she knew she wasn't going to be able to keep going, but the thought of sitting in the back of the wagon nearly brought her to tears.

  As she wrestled with the decision, a rider came her way, but she kept her head down because she didn't want to show her frustration to anyone.

  “Miss Margie?”

  Blinking a little, she looked up to see Henry Morris getting off his horse. She took a sharp breath, but managed to whisper, “Good morning.”

  A combination of emotions roiled through her. She still felt hurt by his comment about her being a spinster, but she had been the first one to be unkind. Torn between wanting to ignore him and apologize, she remained silent.

  “Uh, I expect that you're not up to traveling in the wagon, but you're looking kind of peaked, so I was wondering if you'd like to ride Ranger.”

  The offer was so unexpected that she couldn't formulate an answer. However, her mother seemed to have no problem accepting on her behalf.

  “Thank you, Mister Morris!” she exclaimed. “We have no horse ourselves, only these oxen and a few heads of cattle. That's very generous of you.”

  Before she quite knew what was happening, Margie was modestly seated on the back of Henry's horse, a blanket draped over her lap for the sake of propriety. Henry walked alongside her, the reins of the horse in his hand.

  “Thank you,” she murmured. “I—I wasn't sure what I was going to do. The trail is so difficult here.”

  He nodded, but didn't reply right away, and she didn't know what to say to him either, so they walked in silence with her mother and sister making conversation with him.

  “Your brothers seem very happy that you are going to Oregon with us,” Sarah commented.

  “Yeah, well, I didn't feel good about leaving the two of them in the middle of the journey. I'll just see them to the valley and then head south.”

  “But won't it be dangerous going by yourself?” their mother asked.

  He gave a little shrug. “I'll see if I can join a group. There must be some fellows in Oregon City who have gold fever.”

  Margie wondered if he would ever make it there, but didn't have the nerve to voice her concern. Perhaps out of embarrassment, she felt tongue-tied around him now.

  After they'd been walking for another hour with only the barest of chitchat, they heard a dull roar in the distance.

  “That must be the waterfall the captain was telling us about,” Margie's father said.

  Having wallowed in her own misery for the past two weeks, Margie had forgotten about the upcoming falls, which were reputed to be the second most amazing waterfalls in the United States next to the Niagara Falls.

  The sound of the water was nearly deafening, but Margie only relished it, and her breath caught at the sight.

  “Does it have a name?” she asked.

  Henry nodded. “It's called Twin Falls because there is another one just around that outcropping.”

  The wagon train carefully walked along the river to where the falls started, and then they stopped to take in the view. Carefully, they made their way down to the bottom. Captain Holt declared this a good place for the rest of the day so that the livestock could feed on the lush vegetation. They hadn't had such abundance in a number of days and had lost a few heads of cattle as a result.

  Even though she was tired, Margie felt no desire to lay down for a rest as her mother suggested.

  “If we're going to be here for the rest of the day, I can rest later on,” she declared.

  When they circled their wagons a short distance from the falls, the women built fires while the men decided to try their hands at fishing. They had to clamber down the rocks to reach the river's edge, and returned a short time later with numerous fish, which everyone enjoyed for lunch.

  Mother cooked the fish that the Morris brothers had caught, telling them that it was in payment for Henry's kindness in allowing Margie to ride his horse during the morning.

  Much to her surprise, Henry blushed a little and looked as though he wanted to refuse the offer.

  “I, uh, did that because, well, I kind of spoke out of turn the other day. Also, it was clear that Miss Margie wasn't able to handle walking this morning.”

  Although she was grateful, Margie might have bristle slightly at the implication that she was less than capable, but the fact that he'd offered his horse as a kind of apology softened her heart.

  “There was no need, Mister Morris,” she informed him politely, but kindly. “We were both too quick to speak, I believe.”

  He nodded. “Maybe, but I was the worst offender. In any case, I hope you will forgive my bad behavior.”

  The three men accepted the fried fish and walked back to their campsite.

  “What was all that about?” Margie's mother wanted to know. “Do you know what he's talking about, Margie?”

  If she told them what Henry had said, then she would be forced to admit her own comments as well, something she was loath to do, so she merely shrugged a little.

  “Who can understand men?” she replied vaguely. “This fish is really good, Mother. What seasoning did you use?”

  Louise wasn't normally so easily distracted, but Margie thought she could sense that her daughter wasn't eager to talk about the conversation, so she allowed herself to be steered and talked about the spices she'd put on the fish.

  Margie was glad her mother was so sensitive because she needed time to discern the kind actions of the man she'd been trying very hard to avoid. Her heart had softened over the past day, and now it seemed to be drawn to Mr. Henry Morris.

  She could hardly understand it herself.

  Henry noticed that Captain Holt had repeatedly been looking in the direction they'd come. Finally, he worked up the nerve to ask him about it.

  Jeremiah Holt looked grim. “This is the one part of the journey that I dislike the most. Don't get me wrong, I love the waterfalls, but just east of here, there was an…incident two years back.”

  Searching through the knowledge he had about the trail, Henry realized what the captain was referring to.

  “You mean the Clark party?”

  Holt nodded. “Yeah. Seems a band of natives needed horses and attacked the wagon train to get them.”

  A surge of worry flooded through Henry. “But you said the natives are peaceful, that you've never had a problem with them.”

  The captain didn't reply right away. His eyes were on the horizon. “That's not exactly what I said. Most people have an irrational fear of the Indians, and I told them that there's no reason to worry for the most part. Remember early on in our journey? That small band of braves wanted to take Emma's son. I just thank God that I was able to convince them otherwise.”

  Henry tilted his head to the side.

  “How did you manage that anyway? You never said.”

  The captain sighed a little. “Well, I had to lie, actually. I told them that Jacob was my son. I don't suppose it's a complete lie. Emma and I
have talked about marriage, so he will become my son at one point, although I didn't really know that at the time.”

  Although there was nothing terribly offensive in the man’s words, Henry felt annoyed. Why were people bringing God into everything now?

  “Well, I guess you'd better ask the preacher to pray for protection against any attacks then,” he replied, sarcastically. However, Holt didn't seem to catch the cynical tone and merely nodded.

  “Yeah, better sooner than later. We should all be praying for that.”

  The man walked off in the direction of the Riley wagon, leaving Henry to ponder his words. Were they in any danger here? It seemed so unlikely that an attack would come in such a beautiful place, but of course the one thing had nothing to do with the other.

  As he looked around the camp, Margie entered his line of vision. She still appeared very frail, but he noted that she was not an unappealing looking woman. He hadn't really taken notice before because of her bold and aggressive nature, but the sickness seemed to have taken a lot of that out of her. She seemed almost demure now. That wasn't the right word exactly, but she was definitely a more subdued version of former self.

  When his mind rolled over the details of the Clark massacre, he remembered how the Indians had no qualms about killing and attacking anyone, women and children included. A sense of protectiveness welled up inside his chest, and he looked to where he kept his rifle. He would not hesitate to use it if he had to. He'd never killed a man before, but if meant protecting those on the wagon train, he most certainly would.

  “Why so serious?” Michael asked him, interrupting his thoughts.

  “What?” He turned to look at his brother and wondered if he should relay what he'd learned from the captain. It seemed to be a good decision because they would need every man to be alert. However, what he didn't notice was that there were a number of other men milling about nearby who also heard him.

  “I knew it!” Eugene Howard declared loudly. “I jest knew that there would be problems with Injuns. Every man out to have his rifle at the ready if we spy one.”

  Alarmed, Henry shook his head vigorously. “Don't run around saying stuff like that. That's the surest way to cause trouble. We've seen lots of Indians cross our path without any problem. Some even traded us tools for food.”

  They'd only seen natives four times, but aside from the one incident that Captain Holt had referred to, they'd been peaceful encounters. If Eugene had his way, every man would have his rifle cocked and ready to fire.

  “Yeah, but those were different tribes,” Eugene countered. “You said that them Shoshoni Injuns are a vicious bunch.”

  It was clear that Eugene was not going to listen to reason. Why would he start doing so now? The man had challenged the captain on more than one occasion. Henry felt sorry for his family, who had to bear the shame of having such an overbearing husband and father. The man's wife was a tiny little thing, but at least Eugene listened to her. The children were young, except for Lily, their teenage daughter, and they all seemed as timid as their father was bold.

  “I think we should have a meeting with the captain,” Henry said firmly, wishing he'd never opened his mouth. “It's important to know what to do and how to prepare in case something happens.”

  “I don't need no meeting to tell me how to protect my family,” Eugene grumbled. “But if he insists, I'll come along.”

  As it turned out, the captain was already in the process of setting up a meeting. Seeing as the next day was a Sunday, he planned to discuss it right after the morning service since everyone in the train attended.

  Henry just hoped that tomorrow would be soon enough.

  5

  The Taylors had heard murmurings about the Indians, and all of them were on alert. Adam Taylor assured his family that if there was anything to fear, the captain would have told them by now. He suspected the meeting was just a kind of formality of sorts.

  “Don't borrow trouble,” he warned. “Let's just wait and see what the captain has to say.”

  Margie, feeling much better as they day progressed, decided she would sleep with her sister that night. She had no desire to be alone in the wagon, nor did she want Sarah to be alone in the tent.

  “Did father say it's okay for you to sleep on the ground again?” Sarah asked, her face slightly pinched with worry as they finished cleaning up the dinner dishes. “I want you to recover as fast as possible.”

  “Yes, he did. Don't worry about that.” She didn't want to bring up the subject of the Indians for fear of aggravating Sarah's state of mind, so she changed the topic. Looking up, she commented, “The falls are spectacular, aren't they? Even though we knew we'd be seeing them, I didn't expect such a sight.”

  Sarah looked towards the cascading waters. “Yes, they are beautiful.” Her brow cleared for a moment as she marveled at them. “God sure is an artist, don't you think?”

  Blinking a little, Margie nodded. “Yes, He is.” It was getting a little easier talking about God in such a casual way. Since they'd grown up in a home where He was only mentioned during prayer time or at church, it was taking some getting used to. “Nature sure is beautiful.”

  For a few minutes, they let go of their concerns and just enjoyed the falls.

  “I wish I had time to paint a picture,” Sarah murmured. “But you know it takes me forever to do something like that.”

  Margie smiled a little. Despite sister's amiable attitude and easy-going manner, she was a perfectionist when it came to painting. Still, she admired Sarah's art.

  “That's why it always looks so good,” she complimented.

  It was hard to say who was more surprised by the kind words, Sarah or herself. A slow blush rose up her neck, not because of the compliment, but because of the realization how rare it was for her to give them out.

  “That's so nice of you to say,” Sarah murmured, her face showing her delight. “Thank you.”

  It was such an easy thing to make her sister happy. Why didn't she do it more often? It cost nothing. Taking a deep breath, she added, “I hope that you'll show me how to paint when we get to Oregon. I'm sure Father can buy some canvas there.”

  An even bigger smile graced Sarah's face now. “I'd love to. I—I just never realized that you were interested.”

  Margie shrugged a little. “People change,” she mumbled, ducking her head and gathering up the plates from their dinner. They were still a little wet, but they would be dry by morning. She felt a little embarrassed at having spoken so sentimentally, but Sarah seemed happy that she'd shared her thoughts.

  “You're right, sister. People can change if they want to, but what I noticed is that God changes us from the inside out. Even on our own wagon train, you can see how different people have become when they realize that God loves them just as they are.”

  Margie swallowed hard. This was something that had been on her mind the whole day, but she hadn't been courageous enough to bring the subject up.

  “Do you really believe that, Sarah? That God loves everyone? Even the…difficult people?”

  The two of them were now walking back to the wagon, the evening dishes in their arms, but Sarah stopped and gave her a serious look. “I don't just believe it,” she told her earnestly. “I know it's true. The Bible says so. Margie...do you really not know?”

  Tears flooded her vision, and Margie pressed her lips together. It was impossible to speak, so she just shook her head a little and kept walking.

  Sarah didn't press her any more than that, but when it was time to go to the Rileys’ for the nightly devotion, she gently laid her hand on Margie's arm. “You're coming, aren't you?”

  It was hard to pinpoint the moment that she felt herself changing, but Margie knew that something was happening to her heart. And more than this, she knew that she had to go to the meeting. She longed to know more about the God who could love even her.

  When his brothers asked him if he would accompany them to the Rileys’ that evening, Henry was prepared
to say no, but then he saw Margie and her sister moving toward the small circle gathering in front of the preacher's wagon. Without a clear understanding of his motives, Henry found himself agreeing, and a few minutes later, the three of them were seated a short distance away from the sisters who were sitting next Preacher John and his family as they had the night before. Tonight, however, he and his brothers didn't sit directly behind them, but rather off to their left. From this vantage point, he could clearly see Margie's profile.

  When she turned her head and looked in his direction, he felt his mouth go dry. When she gave him the tiniest of smiles, he felt the corners of his own mouth lift, but then she quickly turned away and the smile died on his lips. Was she still upset with him? It hadn’t seemed that way earlier today, and now he found himself eager to garner her good opinion.

  Still, he had a good view of her face when the preacher started to speak, and he was able to observe her inconspicuously. Once again, he noticed that her face had changed. Where her expression used to be severe and almost pinched, it had now softened. She looked...happier somehow. But how could that be? She'd been suffering for two weeks with a terrible ailment, one that had killed a number of people on the trail.

  As he pondered this change, he almost didn't register what the preacher was talking about, but when the portion of the Bible was being read, the words began to penetrate his trance.

  Recompense to no man evil for evil. Provide things honest in the sight of all men. If it be possible, as much as lieth in you, live peaceably with all men. Dearly beloved, avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath: for it is written, Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord. Therefore if thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink: for in so doing thou shalt heap coals of fire on his head. Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good.