by Linda Ford
Ben was likewise shocked at being charged a buck fifty for gunpowder. But what could they do? He left the women trading for goods and went in search of a blacksmith. Their wheel rims needed to be tightened.
He stepped aside to make way as Mrs. Bingham marched into the dry goods store with Abby at her side. Abby spared him a quick glance, then turned back to her mother. Was he mistaken in thinking she appeared to offer a silent apology? And if so, was it over her mother’s dismissive behavior or—
He tried to quell the thought. Did she regret that they’d spent no time together for four days?
He touched the brim of his hat in greeting. Maybe he’d purchase a new one while he was here. His was battered out of shape after being on the prairie in the rainstorm. James had found it caught on some sagebrush and laughed. “It’s seen better days.”
“Sure enough has.” And he hoped it would see better days ahead, as well. But a new one might help brighten his future.
The day was busy with purchasing and repairing. The camp at evening was noisy with excited children running about, men checking equipment and the women comparing purchases.
If he’d hoped for a chance to speak privately to Abby, he wouldn’t be getting it. The commotion of camp didn’t subside until long after dark.
The next morning, he rose early. Others staggered from their tents, paying the price for their late-night revelry.
The ladies immediately set to work over the campfire. Soon the table they used was crowded with all sort of bowls and pots
“Looks like a lot of breakfast,” he commented.
“We plan to use the time to bake up biscuits and beans and sweets and—” Rachel gave an expansive wave. “Everything. We’ll eat like royalty for the first little while at least.”
Abby chuckled. “Not everything, surely?”
Rachel shrugged. “Just some extra baking. We never had time on the trail for anything but necessities.”
Ben’s duties relaxed as they camped at the fort so he sat back and watched them cooking up a storm. He would relax a lot more when they discovered who was responsible for the robberies both on the wagon train and back in Independence.
Johnny toddled over and held out his arms. Ben scooped him up and tossed him in the air. Johnny giggled with delight.
Ben caught Abby’s gaze upon him and stopped tossing the baby, who protested loudly.
Her gaze seemed to beg him to do something. What? And then it hit him. He pushed to his feet. Handed Johnny to his mother and murmured to Abby as he passed her. “Walk with me this afternoon? Right after dinner?”
She nodded, her eyes guarded.
“I’ll meet you at the gates.”
He sauntered off, waited until he was out of sight to jump for joy. She’d agreed. She wanted to spend time with him. Even against her mother’s wishes.
He jumped again and hollered, “yeehaw.” The Indians gave him a puzzled look and shook their heads at each other. He could almost hear them saying Crazy white man. But he didn’t care.
* * *
Abby hid her smile. Mother had retreated to the wagon but should she look out and see Abby smiling, she would demand a reason. Of course, if she knew the true cause, she would forbid Abby to go. Abby could not bring herself to outright defy her mother. But if her mother didn’t know, she couldn’t forbid.
Abby had made up her mind, although it had been a long torturous journey before she came to her conclusion. Verse after verse had circled a path through her head until she thought there must be a trench inside her brain as deep as the buffalo trails.
Verses she’d memorized filled her every waking hour. There was a moment she wished she’d never committed them to memory, but she didn’t believe it for even a minute. Those words had been her sole comfort for years.
If we confess our sins.
“Confess therefore your sins one to another...that ye may be healed.”
She knew there was more to it than that, but those particular words were beacon lights in her brain.
She’d talked to Delores, seeking her wisdom.
“God forgives if we but ask,” Delores said.
Abby had asked but her heart ached for more. That’s when she knew what she must do.
She meant to tell Ben the whole truth. Every ugly bit of it. And if he still wanted to walk with her...
Not that he’d asked her for several days. She’d prayed most earnestly for a chance and here it was.
She could hardly keep her thoughts on the tasks at hand as she helped the others cook up as much food as they thought would keep for few days. Every couple of minutes she glanced up hoping to see Ben, but he didn’t return until noon.
He sported a new hat, a wide-brimmed felt hat that gave him a rakish look. He took it off, spun it around on his finger and hung it from a hook on the wagon.
His sisters watched and laughed.
He grinned at them, including Abby in his look.
At the welcome in his eyes, her heart forgot to work.
The Littletons had camped close to them perhaps out of habit and little Johnny wandered over and begged to be picked up.
At the tender way he lifted the child and rubbed noses with him, she thought her heart might explode from her chest and pressed her hand to her throat in an attempt to calm her reaction.
Somehow she managed to eat her meal without attracting unwanted notice from the others. The last thing she needed was for Mother to think she picked at her food. No doubt she would order Abby to have a rest. As if Abby was still a child.
The meal ended. The men left to tend to their business of getting the equipment ready for the next stage of their journey and finally Abby could breathe easy.
Only she couldn’t. Ben waited for her to join him.
Her arms felt too long, her hands uncooperative, as she washed the dishes. Surely Mother would notice. She sucked in air and held it until she felt calmer.
Suddenly they were finished. There was nothing to stop her from heading to the fort. Nothing but a bout of nerves that made her tongue stick to the roof of her mouth.
She gave herself a little shake and went to the wagon to retrieve the coins Father had left for her.
“Where are you going?” Mother’s sharp words knifed along Abby’s spine.
“I need to buy some thread.” She worked on quilt squares almost daily and had run out of both thread and fabric. One square she made had a dark brown hat on green prairie. The hat caught on a gray-green bit of brush. Blue patches signified the puddles of water. She’d watched James find Ben’s old hat and bring it back to Ben. To others it represented the windstorm. But for her, it reminded her of Ben running after her in the wind, worried and concerned. And then kissing her.
That memory gave her courage and strength to continue with her plans. “Father gave me money to buy the supplies I need.”
She dropped the coins in her pocket and strode toward the fort without a backward look.
She stepped through the open gates and looked around.
Ben uncoiled from the log wall of the nearest building and smiled, sending her pulses into drum beat.
“I need to make a few purchases.” Her words sounded thin and airy. Like she was excited or nervous. She was both.
“May I accompany you?”
She nodded graciously. “It would be my pleasure.” She meant it more sincerely than he could guess.
They crossed to the store and stepped inside. She hurried to the section where the yard goods were displayed and ordered two yards of white muslin and a bit of green-and-blue percale.
Ben stood close by, watching her examine the fabrics. It made her less certain of herself, so she turned to him.
“Do you think this is a good color for grass?”
“Grass is green. This
is green. Seems simple enough.”
She laughed. “Put that way, yes.” Was this a habit she’d been unaware of—making things complicated when they were simple? If she could convince herself it was true then perhaps this afternoon and the things she meant to say were the same. This is what happened. This is my part in it. Simple enough.
She would have liked to purchase more colors but the selection was limited. She added a spool of thread and paid for it. The man waiting on her wrapped her purchases in brown paper and tied it closed.
Ben took the package and tucked it under his arm. “Let’s go for a walk.”
“Yes, let’s.”
A heavily bearded man strode past, bumping into Abby.
Ben pulled her close and tucked her arm around his, her fingers on his forearm. “I’ll keep you safe.”
She liked the sound of that and the feel of his powerful arm beneath her palm. He was strong. But he possessed the kind of strength that displayed itself in gentle kindness. Not in brutality. Of that, she was certain.
They stepped out of the fort and turned to the right, walking in the shadow of the log walls. They reached a spot where they could no longer see the covered wagons and she tugged on his arm.
“Let’s stop here.”
They leaned against the rough wood. The plains rolled away as far as they could see. The cloudless sky matched the cornflower blue of her thread. She planned how to make this scene into a quilt block.
“Ben, do you mind if I ask you a question?”
“I’d consider it a privilege.”
He might not after she said all she meant to say. “What did my mother say to you the other day?”
She felt his surprise in the way he stiffened.
He took his time answering and every second of waiting measured out a drop of dread. Was it that bad?
Finally he sighed. “Mostly the same stuff she said six years ago. That I wasn’t good enough for you. That you had plans for your betterment in Oregon. That you would do what’s best for you.”
Abby groaned. “Mother wants me to do what is best for her. She thinks I owe it to her.”
Ben turned to study her. “Do you agree with her?” His tone revealed nothing, and she dare not look at him for fear she would lose her determination.
She’d thought how to explain to him and prayed for the opportunity. She didn’t intend to let it pass.
“I never told you the whole story about Andy’s death and my part in it.” She recounted to him that fateful day, not glossing over her neglect in thinking about Andy’s safety rather than impressing some friend she wished she could erase from her memory.
At some point he had taken her hands and held them to his chest.
She still couldn’t meet his eyes and kept her gaze on his shirtfront. “I wish I could take that day back. I always believed Mother didn’t know just how guilty I was but the other day when she talked to you, she told me she knew everything and blamed me.”
“Abby—”
“Let me finish before you say anything.” And if, when she was done, he wanted nothing more to do with her, she would understand. She’d die inside. But she’d been half dead the better part of a decade anyway.
“I was consumed with grief and guilt. If only I’d asked him not to do it. If only I hadn’t cared so much what that girl said.” She could never bring herself to say her name. “I knew Mother would never forgive me. Her whole world centered on Andy. If we were sick, she fretted something would happen to Andrew. When Father took us places, she made certain Andrew had the best place and gave Father a dozen warnings about keeping him warm, making sure he got a treat, letting him play in the park.” She’d never minded too much. After all, she’d adored her brother.
“Knowing how upset Mother would be, and how she’d never get over it, I did the only thing I could think of. I vowed to her that I would do my best to take Andrew’s place. I’d take care of her and Father just as she expected Andy would.” Abby stumbled on the words and took a moment to push her emotions into the dark hole where they constantly lived. “Mother got a Bible and made me swear on it that I would take care of her. She’s never let me forget my promise. I married Frank—” Her voice broke and she couldn’t go on.
Ben pulled her toward him but she shook her head. She had to say it all. Only then could he make a decision based on who she really was.
“I never loved him, but Mother thought him a man with prospects.” Every word shivered up her throat at the memory of those awful days with Frank.
Ben had his hands on her upper arms, providing strength even as he waited for her to continue.
“I thought when he died, I’d be free of my vow. But Mother has other plans. She will find a rich man for me to marry. It won’t matter if I care for him in the least.”
She brought her gaze to Ben’s then. “I will never be free.”
Why did she even think it possible? A vow given on the Bible was unbreakable.
Chapter Twenty
Ben stared past Abby as she talked. The prairie shifted and wavered as if stroked by unkind fingers. The same cruel fingers that raked through his heart leaving it in shreds.
Abby blamed herself for Andy’s death. She labored under a load of guilt that would have made two yoke of oxen stagger. Lord, heal her. Comfort her. If only he could offer something.
“I will never be free.” Every word carried so much hurt his knees buckled.
Her eyes met his, the pupils wide and unfocused.
He saw clear to the depths of her soul, felt every pulsing beat of pain.
His hands gripped her shoulders.
She leaned toward him. He had only to bend his arms to bring her to his chest, but his own emotions raged. He feared he would crush her.
Barring anything he could hit, he wanted to shake his fists into the air. How could anyone treat her this way? Her own mother, no less.
“Ben?” His name was a sob and released him from the grip of his rage.
“Oh, Abby.” He pulled her to his chest and crossed his arms over her back, enfolding her as if he could protect her from the pain of her life. But the pain lurked inside, where he couldn’t attack it. He bent his head and pressed his cheek to her hair, breathed in the sweetness of her. A sweetness that had been sullied by undeserved guilt. At least she allowed him to hold her. Surely a sign of trust. But could he help her find the healing she needed and deserved?
Lord, help me.
“Abby, I am so sorry about Andy. I wish I’d known him. I imagine him as an adoring brother who would sooner spend time with you than anyone else.”
She nodded against his chest. “He was.”
He continued, letting his thoughts flow into words. “What a hole his death must have left in your heart. I don’t expect it can ever be filled.”
Her shoulder shook as she sobbed almost inaudibly. Hot tears wet the front of his shirt.
“Punishing yourself won’t fill that hole.”
She grew quiet. Perhaps waiting. Perhaps disagreeing. He didn’t know but continued.
“If he’d lived he would be your biggest defender, I expect.”
She nodded.
“I believe he’d look at you and tell you he didn’t blame you. He’d want you to enjoy your life to the fullest. He’d want you to be happy, wouldn’t he?”
Again a little nod.
“Can you be happy if you continue to live in guilt?”
She tipped her head back. Her eyes were dark. Her pupils wide. “But I am guilty.”
“Of what?”
She blinked. Opened her mouth. Closed it again. Cleared her throat. “Of his death.” He caught the note of uncertainty in her voice.
“Really? It seems to me you only acted like a fourteen-year-old. As did he. We all make foolish
mistakes. We all do things we regret. Is that reason to punish ourselves?”
“Delores says I have to forgive myself.” Her words shivered from her.
“I agree.”
“I’ve tried. I don’t know how.”
The despair in her voice closed off his throat and for a moment he was unable to speak. Then it hit him. He didn’t understand the bond between twins but it seemed she’d had an especially strong one with Andy. She needed Andy to forgive her.
That was impossible. Andy was dead. But perhaps—
He dropped his arms and put her from him. Only an inch away but his arms felt empty. He must try this for her sake.
“Abby, close your eyes.” She did so. “Now pretend I’m Andy and tell me you’re sorry.”
Her eyes popped open. “Why?”
He explained.
Her eyes pooled with tears. “I wish I could tell him how very very sorry I am. If I could go back, I would do things so differently.”
“I know you would.”
She held his gaze with such hungry longing that he felt hollowed out inside. He ached to press her next to his heart and hold her until all her pain went away. But he didn’t want to be sidetracked before they did this.
“Andy can’t be here, but you can use me as a substitute. Close your eyes and say to me what you need to say to him.”
She swallowed loudly, nodded and closed her eyes. A shudder shook her from head to toe.
He longed to hold her but not while she was imagining him to be Andy.
“Andy, I miss you.” Her voice quavered. “I will always miss you. Every day I see things I know you’d enjoy and want to tell you about them. But I can’t. And it’s my fault. I should have stopped you from riding that horse.” She shivered. “Please forgive me for letting you down. For putting my pride ahead of your safety. It robbed you of life. I am forever sorry.”
He dared not make a sound, not even the sound of his breathing for fear of ruining the moment.
“I know you’re in a better place. I know I will see you someday and we can talk about all these things.” She nodded as if she heard a voice. Her expression went from pain to regret to peace. “Thank you for forgiving me. And yes, I’ll live my life the way you would want me to.” She laughed a little, the sweetest sound Ben had ever heard. “You’d want me to enjoy it to the fullest and be willing to take risks. Reasonable ones, of course.”