by Linda Ford
“Good night to you and thanks again for your help.”
He strode back to the Hewitt wagon as if a wild animal was on his tail.
Emma and Rachel poked their heads out of their tent. “Everything okay?”
“Fine. Just fine. I think Abby could use something for blisters.”
“Of course. I’ve been busy with the sick children but I should have thought to take her something.” Emma backed out with her satchel of remedies and went to Abby’s tent to softly call her name.
Rachel remained at the tent flap. “Ben, my big lunk of a brother, I’m worried about you. I don’t want to see you hurt.” She thankfully kept her voice low enough the others wouldn’t overhear her.
He wished he could pretend he didn’t know what she was talking about. “I’m fine. Just fine.”
All he had to do was endure miles and months of traveling in Abby’s company. But whatever errant thoughts sprang to his mind or memories of a sweet time shared with her, he would never ever let himself forget what really mattered to Abigail Bingham Black.
It wasn’t love. It wasn’t even truthfulness.
It was advancement, high society acceptance and a life possible only to the wealthy. Her goals were firmly supported by her mother.
If he ever forgot the hard lesson he’d learned about caring for Abby, he had only to look at Mrs. Bingham, see the disapproval on her face, and he’d be reminded.
There was no future possible between himself and Abby.
And he was okay with that. But an ache as deep as an ocean filled his heart.
Chapter Eight
The next day, Abby helped Emma tend the children who had come down with measles. Emma never pointed out her mistakes, but gently taught her how to check each child’s fever and what instructions to give the parents caring for their sick little ones.
One wagon was home to six children and their parents—the Jensen family. Two girls, Annie, aged nine, and Betty, eight, bustled about taking care of chores as best they could while their mother tended two little ones, a boy of two and a girl of four.
“We had the measles two years ago,” Annie said, “So we ain’t gonna get them.”
They were nooning near a cluster of bushes. Abby glanced back to the Bingham wagon. She should hurry back and help with dinner, but Emma had asked her to check on this family. She handed a container of water to Mrs. Jensen who poked her head out from the back of the wagon where the canvas had been drawn tight to keep out as much light as possible.
“Where are the twins?” she asked the older girls.
Abby stiffened. Twins. Would she ever hear the word without her insides stinging?
A girl’s little face peeked around the wagon wheel. “We’re here, Ma.”
A boy joined the first child, his eyes big with curiosity at this stranger at their wagon.
Abby squatted to speak to them. “I’m Mrs. Black. I came to help your ma with the little ones. How old are you?”
“Five,” they chorused together.
“And what’s your names?”
The little girl answered first. “I’m Cat. He’s Dog.”
The boy shoved her. “I am not. Don’t listen to her. She’s Cathy. I’m Donny.”
Cathy scrambled back to her brother’s side.
Abby studied the pair. Both blond-haired and blue-eyed. They measured her, assessing whether she was someone they could trust. They stood shoulder to shoulder, one against any threat.
Just as she and Andy had been.
Tears clogged the back of her throat. She’d thought she was defending him against the mocking of some no-matter girl. Instead, she should have been watching out for his well-being.
She smiled past her tears. “Have you two had measles?”
Both shrugged solemnly.
She straightened and turned back to the wagon. “Is there anything you need, Mrs. Jensen?”
“Would you mind helping the girls with the meal?”
“Not at all, but I warn you, they likely know more than I do.”
Laughing, Mrs. Jensen poked her head out again. “Another pair of hands can’t go wrong. I’d feel better simply knowing there is an adult present.”
“Of course.” She was an adult and she knew how to boil water.
“I gots wood,” Betty said. “So we can have a fire and make Ma some tea. Can you help us start the fire?”
“I can do that.” She soon had the fire going and water boiling. Annie and Betty pulled out biscuits and beans from their food box. Mr. Jensen returned just as Abby made the tea.
“You’re welcome to join us,” he said.
“Thank you but I need to see to my mother’s needs.” Besides, she had no wish to eat from their supplies.
Bidding them goodbye, she made her way to her parents. She’d gone but three steps when Ben rode to her side and dismounted. “Emma sent me to see if you needed help.”
“How sweet of Emma.” Would he have come on his own? “I wanted to make sure the Jensens could manage. The two older girls are trying to take the place of their mother who is nursing the two little ones.” She sucked in air and rushed on. “There are five-year-old twins—Cathy and Donny.” She told him how Cathy had said they were called Cat and Dog and laughed though her voice felt strangled. Hopefully, Ben wouldn’t notice it.
“I suppose it reminded you of yourself and Andy.”
She nodded, surprised Ben remembered his name.
He opened his mouth likely with the intent of asking what happened to him. Six years ago, with his death still raw in her mind, her guilt almost overpowering, she had refused to discuss Andy.
She increased the pace of her steps. She still had no desire to talk about Andy or explain how he’d died.
They reached the campfire and she hurried to Mother’s side, her guilt and regret more raw than it had been in some time. Someone had already given Mother a cup of tea.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help.”
Emma gave a dismissive wave. “Everyone knew you were helping the Jensens. How are they?”
“Only the two little ones have the measles, though the twins weren’t certain if they’d had them.” She barely got the word out. Why should it be so important to her that they were twins?
She let out a quiet sigh. Because the children were a reminder of her and Andy.
Father rose to ask the blessing, then they ate a hurried meal. At least Mother had begun to eat better, likely out of desperation, and she didn’t find fault quite so vehemently. Was it because she was too weary? Although Abby was grateful for less complaining, she had no desire to have Mother ill. She would keep a closer eye on her.
Abby felt Ben studying her and kept her attention elsewhere. No doubt he wondered at how she’d rushed away rather than talk about Andy. Well, let him wonder. She wanted to put it behind her. This whole trip was meant to help her put the pain and guilt of Andy’s death behind her. Instead, the Jensen twins had refreshed the memory.
She remembered when Andy had called her silly names, too. Sometimes Gabby Abby, or Babby. She’d enjoyed the way he teased her. Never enough to make her cry, only enough to make her laugh.
Would the hole in her heart from losing him ever go away?
She’d planned to leave memories of Ben behind her, too. That was proving impossible with him riding in the same wagon train. Why couldn’t the Hewitts have stayed behind?
“How is Johnny?” Emma called to Sally who remained in the wagon with him.
“Much better. No fever at all today.” Sally appeared at the back of the wagon. “How many days must we stay shut in here?”
Emma considered her answer. “Until his rash is gone, his eyes are clear and his nose stops running.”
Sally groaned. “He’s not going to b
e happy stuck in here.”
“Nor are you.” Martin sounded sympathetic.
“Better to deal with that now than complications later,” Emma said.
Abby listened intently to Emma, finding it was easier to ignore the past if she focused on the present.
She’d like to also dream of the future but she now felt less certain of what she’d do when she reached Oregon and how she’d deal with her mother. She stiffened her resolve. She would find a way.
They soon finished the meal and hurriedly cleaned up as the men again put the oxen on the wagons.
No new measles had been reported over the noon break and everyone seemed settled as they moved on. Emma climbed up beside Ben on the wagon seat.
Abby walked beside the wagons. How was she going to put the past behind her when it kept following on her heels?
How was she going to get her mother to release her from her promise so she could find a new future in Oregon?
* * *
Ben smiled at Emma sitting next to him on the wagon seat. It had been a few days since brother and sister had time to be together alone. “How are you holding up?”
She shrugged. “Fine. If measles is the worst we have to deal with, I shall fall on my knees and thank God with my whole heart.”
He didn’t know if he should laugh or scold her. “Don’t you start sounding like Mrs. Bingham. She never stops saying this trip is cursed.”
Emma patted his arm. “I don’t believe that. This is an adventure but as all adventures are, it is fraught with dangers and surprises.”
“Good surprises, I trust.” Something about the words stirred his heart. It took only seconds for the memory to surface. He’d accidently run into Abby one day when they were still spending time together and his appearance had startled her. Funny how thinking of that could still bring a smile to his lips.
Emma tipped her head to consider him. “Speaking of surprises, is discovering the Binghams are our traveling companions a good or bad one?”
He should say it was not good and yet he couldn’t force the words to his mouth.
She didn’t wait for him to answer. “Never mind.” She patted his arm again. “I trust God has His hand on our journey and will guide us safely over, though I am not so naive as to expect that means none of us will face difficult times. Or that we won’t encounter deaths.”
He nodded. “Death is as much a part of life as is birth.” He needed to apply the thought to his regrets over Abby. Yes, he’d once cared. That was over. Dead.
“I know.” Emma sounded sad.
He wondered if she thought of their father, or mother or even Suzanne, Grayson’s wife who had died in childbirth along with the girl baby.
Emma continued. “You know the most pleasant surprise so far is watching Abby. She’s changed. Or maybe I simply didn’t have a chance to see her like this before.” She paused as if to contemplate. “Somehow, I expected her to act more like her mother. But she’s a valuable asset to the company. She is wonderful with the sick, so kind and gentle, and she cheers and comforts the whole camp with her music and reading.”
Ben didn’t respond. What could he say? That he’d noticed even though he’d tried not to? That he’d seen this side of her before she chose to marry Frank? And yet it wasn’t enough to enable her to choose a financially struggling young man over a well-heeled one.
Emma studied him. “Did she ever say how Frank died?”
He shook his head.
“You haven’t asked her?”
He slowly brought his gaze to hers. “See no need to.”
Finally Emma turned aside from studying him and gave a little shrug. “All I’m saying is she is not what I expected.”
“I heard you the first time.”
She chuckled a little. “Don’t get all touchy now.”
“I’m not.” Though truth be told, it did feel like she’d poked at a bruise.
In the periphery of his vision, he saw Abby marching along. There were others walking, too, but she seemed alone. Emma had pointed out Abby’s value, yet he wondered if Abby was aware of what she contributed. He’d often seen her frown as she watched the other women preparing stew or a sweet. Frank had been a rich man. There would have been servants to do the menial chores, so she likely had never learned practical things that would enable her to help around the camp.
It would be nice if someone would teach her, but Emma had her hands full tending the sick and Rachel made it plain she had no patience with Abby and her complaining mother. Sally would be a kind teacher, but she had Johnny to take care of.
One of the many verses he’d memorized with Abby sprang to mind. Strange how many of them he recalled lately even though he hadn’t given them a lot of thought over the years. Philippians chapter four: verse nineteen. “But my God shall supply all your need according to his riches in glory by Christ Jesus.” He didn’t know if it was a need or a want but he’d sure like to see someone help Abby—one of the women, of course. It would be thought strange for him to try and teach her how to cook a meal. Besides, his skills were limited to beans and bacon.
He handed the reins to Emma. “I think I’ll walk for a bit.”
“Uh-huh.” She sounded so pleased with herself that he paused to add, “I’m just going to walk.”
“You go right ahead.” She looked forward but didn’t succeed in hiding a little smile.
He shook his head. Sometimes his quiet little sister surprised him. He walked beside the wagon but the dust soon drove him to move further away.
Abby walked a little to one side, away from the others and he fell in step with her.
She jerked about, startled by his appearance.
He grinned to himself. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt your thoughts. Just stretching my legs.”
“Feel free.”
Did she mean feel free to stretch his legs or to walk at her side? He’d believe both. That made it easier to stay there.
“Emma was saying how much she appreciates your help.”
She ground to a halt. “Me? I’m not much help to anyone.”
He’d been right in thinking she wished she could do more. “Emma says you are a great comfort to the mothers caring for their sick children.”
“Oh, that. I just take them water and get whatever they need. Anyone could do that.”
“I suppose anyone could play the mandolin and sing, too. And read a story.”
“Anyone who had as many lessons as I have could do it.”
Her attitude annoyed him. “Why are you determined to believe you can’t do anything of value?”
“Who said I am? I can make tea and biscuits.”
He laughed at the challenge in her voice. “All you need is a few lessons and you can do anything.”
“Seems we left the teachers back in Missouri.”
“I hope we left lots of things back there.”
She glanced at him. “What are you leaving behind?”
“Memories.”
“Me, too.”
They sighed in unison which made her laugh.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you about Frank. How did he die?”
She walked faster but he had no trouble keeping pace.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to upset you.”
“He was killed in a buggy accident.” Her voice was strangely devoid of emotion.
“I’m sorry. I know how hard it is to lose those you love. I’ve lost my mother and father.” And Abby, though he wasn’t about to say so. “And I watched Grayson’s grief when his wife and baby died. Losing children is perhaps the hardest.”
“I wouldn’t know. I never had a child.”
Ben opened his mouth and closed it without speaking. What did one say to that? Was not having children another
loss she had faced? He opened his mouth again. Snapped it shut. He had no idea what to say.
She surveyed him out of the corner of her eye. “Don’t look so concerned. I’ve dealt with Frank’s death.” Why did she never mention Andy’s death?
“Good to know.” What else was he supposed to say? But his mind raced with questions. Did she mean she was looking to the future?
Humph. What difference did that make to him? He already knew what her plans looked like. Her mother had made certain they all knew she was to marry well again. That left out a poor mercantile owner.
“So what’s ahead for you in Oregon?” Would she provide a name? Or specifics enough to make him see her as belonging to another?
They walked on in silence for the space of near ten minutes. He assumed she hadn’t heard him or wasn’t prepared to answer. In either case, he wouldn’t ask again. He had his own future to deal with though, at the moment, partnership with Grayson sounded lonely.
“I hope—” She spoke so softly he had to bend his ear to her. “The future will be full of hope and joy.”
“Me, too.” But seeing Abby again made him wonder if he’d ever again find what he’d had with her. They’d shared something he’d found sadly lacking in the young women he’d courted in the intervening years. Seems they were either too serious or not serious enough. He’d not been able to find any with the balance he’d seen in Abby. Too bad it hadn’t been wedded to commitment and honesty.
“Anyway, I just thought you should know what Emma had to say about you.” He purposely gave her a challenging look to see if she would deny she had anything of value to offer.
She smiled, though only with her lips. “Thank you.”
He returned to the wagon and climbed up.
Emma and Rachel had traded places so Emma now walked and Rachel drove the oxen. He took the reins from her.
“Did you have a nice visit with Abby? What did you talk about?”
Of course she’d seen. Anyone who cared to look would have. Even Mrs. Bingham. Wonder what she’d have to say to Abby tonight that they’d all get to hear?