Wagon Train Reunion

by Linda Ford

  “Alvin, please, and my wife’s name is Delores.” They took the offered tea. The children sat back quietly as the adults visited.

  Sally joined them, leaving Johnny with the Jensen girls. Mr. Bingham and Martin remained at the banks of the river.

  Where Ben should be, he thought with a guilty glance that direction. Soon.

  Emma offered him tea and he joined the group.

  Abby’s eyes darkened as if something troubled her as she looked from Alvin to Delores. “Last I saw, your wagon was in the river. Did you, is it—?”

  Alvin answered her faltering question. “Our wagon made it across in one piece.”

  Ben heard the note in his voice that said it wasn’t entirely good news. “Did you lose much?”

  Alvin and Delores exchanged glances. “Some.” The word was spoken cautiously.

  Ben felt their pride but pride wouldn’t feed and care for six children and their parents. “Can you be more specific?”

  Again the Jensens shared a look. Alvin nodded. “We have one sack of flour that didn’t get ruined. We saved a lot of our things. We have our milk cow and Mr. Weston assures me we can hope to find game.”

  “We’d all be glad of some fresh meat.” Ben understood what they didn’t say...they’d lost more than they cared to admit.

  “Well, we best be on our way.” The Jensens gathered up their children and departed.

  Ben looked about at his sisters and friends and saw his concern mirrored. “I’ll check with Sam to see exactly how much they lost.” He strode back to the river and found the wagon master.

  The news wasn’t good.

  “I saw a lot of stuff floating downstream. And much of what stayed in the wagon was water soaked.”

  “We’ll all share with them.” Ben passed the word along and by suppertime, numerous gifts had been left for the Jensens.

  “We’ll share, too,” he said to Emma. “We can surely spare something.”

  “Of course we can.” Both sisters hurried to the wagon.

  “We’ll send over something, as well,” Abby said. “We’ve got more sugar than we need.” She went to their wagon.

  Mrs. Bingham spoke loudly. “We will not sacrifice because of someone else’s foolishness.”

  “It wasn’t foolishness, Mother. It was an accident.”

  “I’ve said from the first that this trip is doomed for failure.” Her voice grew louder, sharper.

  Around them, people stopped and stared in her direction.

  Mr. Bingham strode in from wherever he’d been and went directly to the wagon. “Hush, Martha. This kind of talk serves no good purpose.”

  Mrs. Bingham’s voice rose even louder. “People should not be encouraged to take such rash actions. Abigail, put that sugar back. We’ll starve to death and it will be your fault.”

  “Abigail,” her father sounded firm and tired. “Take what you think we can spare. Now, Martha, why don’t you come with me and we’ll go for a little stroll. You need to stretch your legs.”

  Abby slipped away with the sugar and crossed to the Jensen wagon without looking to the right or left. Her cheeks shone a rosy pink.

  Some muttering and muffled words came from the Bingham wagon and then Mr. Bingham alighted, reached up to assist his wife and the two of them walked away from the stunned listeners.

  Ben stood rooted to the ground. What was wrong with that woman that she blamed Abby for things beyond her control? That she saw nothing but doom and disaster?

  He watched for Abby to return. Mrs. Jensen sat beside their wagon, surrounded by the many generous gifts. She wiped her eyes.

  The twins chased each other across the grass. The older girls played with the babies.

  Where was Abby?

  He looked farther afield. Was that her hurrying past a wagon several hundred yards away? A smile tugged at his lips. He’d know her graceful way of moving amid a thousand women dressed alike. Concern erased his smile. Why was she going the wrong direction?

  He jogged after her, not wanting to overtake her immediately lest she protest.

  She hurried on past the last wagon and onward. Not until the commotion of emigrants and their animals had faded to a dull hum did she slow her steps. She stared to the west then to the river. What was she thinking? Then she sank to the ground overlooking the river.

  He stood still but he must have made some sound because she turned and saw him.

  She considered him with wide hazel eyes then turned to again stare at the river.

  Assuring himself she would have said something if she didn’t care to have him join her, he closed the distance and sank to her side, far enough away not to make her uneasy, but close enough he could enjoy her sweet scent.

  He didn’t speak. He didn’t feel the need, nor did he have any idea what to say.

  The silence went on and on for about ten minutes then she released her breath in a loud gust.

  “Mother did not want to make this trip.”

  That was clearly evident to one and all.

  “Father wants to start a new business where the economy is flourishing.”

  Ben continued to listen.

  “Why did I think anything would change?” She cranked around and stared at him.

  He swallowed hard and thought fast. “Your circumstances are surely going to change.”

  She quirked an eyebrow as if to tell him his answer was far from adequate. “People don’t change.” She resumed staring at the river. Or at least in that direction. He couldn’t say if she actually saw the water or something deep inside her own thoughts.

  “Sometimes they do,” he ventured.

  “You’ve seen it for yourself, or you’re just making it up?”

  “Seen it for myself. Pa changed after Ma died.”

  “For the better or worse?”

  He had to think about that a moment. “Neither. He just changed. I guess having four children to care for on his own made him more serious, more cautious and maybe even more loving.”

  “He’s the only one you can think of? And it hardly counts, because his circumstances and responsibilities forced him to make changes. Yet, I expect he was still the same sort of man.”

  She had a point, yet it annoyed him that she ignored his argument. “I still say people change. I’m sure you’ve changed since...well, since you were young...younger,” he quickly corrected himself.

  She appeared to consider the possibility. “I think you’d be surprised at how little I’ve changed.” She pushed to her feet and hurried toward the wagons.

  He stared after her. Then jerked up and rushed after her. “How can you say that? You lost your husband. You’re headed West with your parents. Those things must have changed you. Changed your views. Changed your feelings. Something.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” She marched onward.

  He didn’t follow. She obviously didn’t agree despite her words. But what did she mean? What hadn’t changed?

  Could she possibly mean her feelings toward him hadn’t changed? But that simply wasn’t possible.

  Was it?

  And what if it were true? His heart flew to the top of his mouth and as quickly fell toward his feet. He turned back to the river.

  Things could never be the same between them as they had been. He, for one, was not as eager to give his heart to anyone. Least of all, someone who had treated it so poorly.

  He didn’t always agree with Rachel, but this time her words served as a guide. Abby would only use him while it suited her.

  He knew it and knew enough to guard his heart.

  Chapter Twelve

  Abby managed to avoid Ben the rest of the evening. She didn’t even play her mandolin or read, explaining she was simply too tired, which elicited unwelcome s
ympathy from those around her. She didn’t want it—didn’t deserve it.

  She retired to bed early, but despite her fatigue, sleep didn’t come easily. She’d said too much to Ben. Hinted that she still had the same feelings for him she’d had six years earlier.

  Only her fright of almost drowning and the comfort he’d offered after rescuing her had emboldened her to say as much as she did.

  Thankfully, he hadn’t understood what she meant.

  Now she must get her feelings back under control. But how could she forget how tenderly he’d held her? Especially when she owed her life to him. Rachel had explained how Ben had dived into the river without a thought and stayed underwater long enough to make Rachel think he’d drowned.

  “He said he wouldn’t have given up until he found you.”

  She’d shrugged it off. “He’d do that for anyone. After all, he’s got the responsibility of being a committeeman.”

  Rachel’s eyebrows had gone up at Abby’s denial, then she shrugged. “I expect you’re right. Ben takes his responsibilities rather seriously.”

  Abby smiled, thinking how he’d wrapped a blanket about her and held her close. Despite the cold that sucked at the marrow of her bones, her heart had warmed at his attention.

  But she could not, would not, believe it meant anything more. What if it did? Could he possibly have any sweet regard for her after the way she’d treated him?

  Not very likely. She flipped to her side. Even if he did, she knew better than to trust her feelings, much less to trust how a man acted. They could be one thing in public, quite another behind closed doors.

  She wakened the next morning with a smile on her lips and her arms hugging herself like Ben’s had.

  She jerked her arms to her sides. She must not think along those lines. She hurried to help Mother dress.

  “I’m going to stay in bed today,” Mother said, waving Abby’s help away. It would take more than one day to get the wagons all across so they wouldn’t move today.

  “Mother, why would you do that?”

  “I’m already wore out and we’ve only been gone a week. I’ll never survive the weeks ahead.” Mother groaned.

  A thread of concern wove through Abby’s thoughts. Was there something wrong? She sat at her mother’s side. “Are you ill?”

  “I truly do not see how I can be expected to endure this day after day.”

  Abby sighed. Her mother had always complained about things—the temperature of the food, the dust she thought she saw on a table, the wrinkled apron a maid wore. Abby had always ignored it or laughed it off as inconsequential. Now it grated on her nerves. The constantness of it. The pettiness of it.

  “Mother, have you forgotten you’re a Bingham? Haven’t you always told me a Bingham rises above circumstances?”

  “You know I wasn’t referring to things such as this.” She waved her hand around to indicate the tent, but Abby knew she meant everything about this trip.

  “You should walk more. It’s preferable to the bouncing on the wagon seat.”

  Mother sniffed. “Ladies don’t walk all the way to Oregon.”

  There was no point in arguing and Abby slipped out to help prepare breakfast. She glanced about to see where Ben was. When she didn’t see him, she tried to tell herself she was relieved. So much easier to put him from her mind if he wasn’t in her sight.

  Sally returned with fresh milk, Johnny perched on her hip.

  “It amazes me how you do everything while carrying him,” Abby said, and held out her hands to take the little guy so Sally could use two hands to strain the milk.

  Johnny came readily. Seems he was prepared to accept their group as his family.

  She rumbled her lips at him, earning a jolly chuckle.

  Father and Martin returned together, talking about how the oxen were enjoying the chance to rest.

  Breakfast was ready. But where was Ben?

  She moved to the back of the wagon as if needing something from within and while there, she glanced toward the river. The ferry was on the other side and there was Ben, taller and broader than most of the other men. He stood with his feet apart, his hands on his hips looking like he was content to rule his world. The sun poking over the horizon silhouetted him in golden light.

  Men and women crowded around him. She was too far to make out any words but something about the way they talked made her catch her breath. She tipped her head trying to hear the sounds from across the river but the camp on this side drowned out any possibility.

  Mr. Weston stepped to Ben’s side and held up his hand to silence the crowd. They appeared to stop talking, but their expressions plainly said they didn’t want to.

  A few seconds later, the crowd dispersed and Ben crossed the river on his horse.

  Abby scurried away, not wanting him to find her watching.

  Even more, not wanting to admit to herself she had been. She wasn’t so naive as to think he could ever again regard her as he had six years ago. Not when she’d made her rejection as harsh as she could bring herself to. Over the years, especially when Frank had made her cry, she’d consoled herself that Ben had likely married a suitable, hardworking woman and was supremely happy. She’d taken a tiny bit of comfort in believing at least one of them had found happiness.

  Seems he’d been too busy with his family responsibilities to take on a wife. But the words she’d spoken had ensured he would never have any feelings for her.

  “A wise woman looks to the future,” she’d said. She’d even tipped her nose a little exactly as her mother had done when she’d spoken the words to Abby. “I feel I deserve more than a struggling existence, which is all you can give me.” She’d had to be cruel. Had to convince him this choice was entirely hers. She’d said more. So much more.

  She pressed her hands to her stomach. Every word had cut her deep. The wounds had never healed.

  She’d continued to think of Ben as a kind, generous man but the things she’d said were not forgivable.

  He rode to the first wagon and spoke to the group without dismounting. He rode from wagon to wagon. Obviously, he delivered a message. He approached their group.

  Abby sat by the fire, curious as to what he had to say, but intent on revealing no special interest in his return.

  “It’s Sunday, and because of that, some of the families are refusing to move. Sam says we can’t afford to delay for any reason. Winter will catch us soon enough. Rev. Pettygrove says he’s prepared to conduct a service.”

  The reverend and his wife were still on the other side. Did he expect they’d all go back over the river? Abby shuddered at the thought.

  “We’re to put it to a vote. We’ll meet at the edge of the river.”

  Murmurs followed Ben’s departure. They swelled as he delivered his message. The men hurried to the meeting spot.

  Abby and Rachel crept closer to listen to the discussion.

  Ben spoke first. “Sam says winter will be upon us before we cross the mountains if we delay.”

  One man spoke up loudly. “One of the Ten Commandments is ‘Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy.’ I don’t see that we get to pick and choose which commandments we’re going to keep or when.”

  The argument sank heavy in Abby’s thoughts. The next commandment was “Honor thy father and thy mother.” Because of those words she would not break her promise to her mother. She prayed the trip would change Mother enough for her to release her.

  So far she’d seen no hint of change.

  Voices rose defending each side of the question. Across the river, another committeeman held a similar discussion while Mr. Weston stood by waiting.

  It must surely be difficult for him to let these people decide on such a question. They didn’t know what lay ahead of them but he did. Shouldn’t that make his opinion the
only one that counted?

  Ben held up a hand to signal quiet. “You’ve all had your chance to speak and you bring up valid points. Remember how our Lord was challenged by the Pharisees for healing a sick man on the Sabbath?”

  Heads nodded.

  “Do you recall His response to them? He asked if they had an ox that fell into a pit, would they leave him there? Isn’t our situation similar? We have many oxen, plus women and children to get safely across this great, empty land and then across the mountains. Would God be honored if we kept the Sabbath but caused needless deaths on the trail because of our delay? Bear in mind, it isn’t just one day, but one day every week, for up to six months. That’s a lot of delay.” As the crowd started to murmur again, he held up his hand. They grew silent. “What I suggest is each group take the time to read from the Scriptures on Sunday morning and thus honor God that way. Now let’s vote. Who believes we should make use of every good day, Sunday or otherwise?”

  Most hands went up. Others slowly joined them. Only a few crossed their arms and refused to agree.

  “The majority votes to continue.” Ben shouted the decision across the river.

  “Same here,” came the reply.

  Abby kept her attention on those across the river so no one would notice how she blinked away tears. Ben was a man among men. Good, wise, noble. She was proud to know him. And to have counted him as a special friend at one time.

  She and Rachel hurried back to the campfire to complete breakfast preparations.

  Ben joined them for the meal. “We’ll have time to take care of other business while the rest of the wagons cross. Use it wisely.”

  Emma handed him a Bible. “Read a chapter.”

  Ben took the Bible and held it reverently. Then he chuckled. “I suggest we read from Exodus.” He read a chapter. “I’m off to help get the wagons across the river.”

  Abby had been studiously avoiding looking directly at him until now. She pretended to glance at something off to his right. She felt his waiting and allowed her gaze to shift.

  He looked directly at her. The morning sun filled his blue-gray eyes with a piercing look that erased all her fine intentions of acting like she didn’t care. Time ceased. Camp sounds silenced. Nothing existed but the two of them, locked in solitude. His look went on and on, searching her thoughts, probing her dreams and wishes.