by Indiana Wake
Amanda’s Hope
Pioneer Brides of the Oregon Trail
Indiana Wake
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Contents
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Epilogue
Katie’s Courage Preview
Also by Indiana Wake
About the Author
Introduction
It is 1866, twenty-three years after the great migration that saw 1000 pioneers head west.
Oregon is a vibrant town and the next generation are grown and making their own mark. What difficulties will they face? Does the great journey still loom over their lives, are new settlers still coming to town? Do old resentments still linger?
Find out how 5 families that settled in Oregon deal with the new life they have and how the next generation grow up to find love and happiness in this wonderful new series.
Each book is a standalone story and can be read in any order. The books are
Suki’s Heart
Amanda’s Hope
Katie’s Courage
Jenny’s Wish
Honey’s Grace
If you wish to read the stories of love on the great migration of 1843 grab these wonderful romances:
Trinity’s Loss
Carrie’s Trust
Josie’s Dreams
Polly’s Choice
Charlotte’s Wedding
All books are FREE with Kindle Unlimited or just 0.99
Chapter One
“I don’t think they’ll be quite what you’re used to, Joe.” Dr. Carrie Macey winced almost as if she was apologizing for something. “They really are amateurs in every sense.”
“Mama, I don’t mind that at all. You should have seen some of the productions that the Willamette University Players used to put on.” Joe laughed at the memory of some of the more frivolous plays he’d seen during his time away studying. “It was hard work staying in your seat sometimes.” He grinned at his mother.
“But you did?”
“Of course, I did, Mama. I was raised right.” His grin became a bright smile, one designed to sway his mother into believing him completely.
“You know, honey, there are hundreds, maybe thousands, of folk who would just not believe you.”
“About staying in my seat or about being raised right?”
“You are the cheekiest child.” Carrie Macey smiled indulgently and crossed the kitchen to where her son sat at the table, ruffling his dark hair until he was wriggling to escape.
“Mama, I am twenty-two and hardly a child,” he objected playfully.
“You will always be my little boy, no matter how old you get.”
“All right, Mama, just as long as you never say that out loud and in public.” He snatched her hand and kissed the back of it. “Otherwise, I shall pretend not to know you.”
“Fair enough, son.” Carrie laughed. She loved her son’s sense of humor. “So, what are the town players putting on tonight?”
“It’s one they’ve come up with themselves. It’s called Moonlight on the Plains, of all things.”
“Sounds whimsical.” Carrie lifted a plate from the table, it was full of crumbs her son had just made as he hurriedly dispatched two large pieces of bread and butter. “Have you had enough to eat?”
“Yes, thank you,” he said and patted his belly by way of proving it. “And I have no idea if the play is whimsical or otherwise. The title is as much as I know about it.”
“Then it will either be a nice surprise or… well, anything but.”
“I’m sure there’ll be something in it to like. There usually is.”
“You are kindhearted.”
“Maybe a little, Mama, but it is true. If you watch something closely and listen attentively, there is usually something of worth to be found, even if the play or book, or whatever you are entertaining yourself with, isn’t really your sort of thing. Folk are in too much of a hurry to denounce someone else’s efforts. I can’t abide that sort of closed-mindedness.”
“Quite so. Unfortunately, you will likely stumble across folk of that very type this evening.”
“Mama, I know. I’m not a stranger here,” he said and instantly regretted his tone. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound so agitated.”
“It’s all right. I know you didn’t mean to sound agitated. But if you are agitated, you can certainly tell me about it. You know I’ll listen.”
Joe knew it was true. His mother was a very open-minded woman, one who could put a body at ease listening to their problems. Probably so many years as the town doctor had trained her well in the art of listening. Being a female doctor in the west in 1868 had given her the edge when it came to handling people, their fears, and their funny ways. Sometimes, even their aggression and hostility. Every time Joe thought of the things his mother had endured, simply to earn the right to help people, he felt himself become angry. As far as he was concerned, his mother was just about the cleverest person in all the world.
His father was a clever man, too, an attorney and a very good one, with a thriving practice to prove it. But Daniel Macey had never had to fight to get to where he was; his intelligence and worth was simply accepted by all.
“I guess it’ll take a little bit of getting used to,” he confessed. “But I’ve done it before, haven’t I?”
“You have,” Carrie said and sat down at the kitchen table beside him.
The three years he had been away at the Willamette University in Salem had been liberally sprinkled with trips back home. But those had been largely spent with his family, and the few acquaintances he’d made before he went off to university had very easily evaporated over time.
Although he had been born in Oregon three years after his mother had crossed the overland trail, he had never truly felt like he belonged.
Carrie Macey had been among the first women in the country to attend The Female Medical College in Pennsylvania, an absolute condition when she had agreed to marry Joe’s father. The family had set off for the East once more when Joe was just nine-years-old so that his mother could study for her medical degree, and they did not return to Oregon until he was fourteen. His father, the head of his thriving practice, put a manager in place and conducted business by correspondence. For that, Joe admired his father greatly. He knew that very few men would have kept their promise to a clever wife that she could take a place at medical college, and fewer still would keep the little family together by joining her on the other side of the country.
If only his father could be as intent to let his son follow his passion as he had been to let his wife. Maybe, it was not a matter of unfairness, but rather the nature of the passion itself. Daniel Macey was a practical man who understood that law and medicine were things which people would always need help with; there would always be work. Producing literature was rather more nebulous, opaque, cloudy; it was a form of entertainment, not a necessity. It was unreliable as a source of income and relied too much on the whims of the masses.
Joe admired his father, but they could not have been more different in their outlook.
“It should be easier this time. I’ve only been away for four years and it’s all still familiar. Not like when we came back from Pennsylvania and I tho
ught I was in another world altogether.” He chuckled at the memory.
“I guess I’ve spent more of my own life in the East than the West, honey, so I do understand.”
“I know you do, but this is home to you, I can see it in your eyes. You’re so content here, Mama, you fit in.”
“I do fit in, but that’s because I have a place to fit into. I have my work, my patients, and my family.” She smiled serenely, like she always did; it made Joe feel at peace, as if everything would work itself out in the end.
“Well, I have my family. One out of three.” He shrugged.
“You will find your way.”
“Will I? Because if finding my way means ending up following in my father’s footsteps, I don’t think I’ll ever feel settled.”
“He just worries about you, that’s all.”
“I know, Mama, and I’m not complaining.” He paused for a moment and looked right into his mother’s eyes. “I just wish I could be me. I wish I could write and follow my own dreams without my father being offended by it.”
“He’s certainly not offended by it, honey.”
“I know. Wrong word,” he apologized, thinking a moment. “Disappointed.” He nodded slowly. “And, please don’t try to tell me that he isn’t, Mama.”
“He worries you won’t be able to support yourself.”
“But how will I know if I don’t try? I’ve already started getting my ideas down on paper. I’m already making progress. And Father would know that if I was able to talk to him about it.”
“Then, maybe you should do just that.” Carrie’s eyes were shining, and Joe felt guilty; she was squarely in the middle of the chasm that was beginning to widen between father and son, and he could see how it was hurting her.
“I don’t know, Mama. I don’t think he’d be interested. And he’s not a man who reads much that isn’t law or news. My ideas would probably make him despair even more. I guess we really are like chalk and cheese.”
“Well, you’re both just so stubborn,” Carrie said with a sigh. “At least you have that much in common.”
“I’m sorry, Mama, I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“You haven’t, Joe.” She smiled at him and stroked his cheek. “You’d better get going if you’re going to make it into town before the curtain goes up.” She laughed. “Figuratively speaking; they don’t actually have a curtain as such, not unless things have changed since the last time I saw them put on a play.”
“You’re not doing much to sell this play, Ma!” He laughed and rose to his feet, pleased that he hadn’t upset her as much as he’d feared.
“I don’t want to get your hopes up is all, honey.” She kissed his cheek and shooed him out of the door.
Chapter Two
“We’d better speed up. We’re going to be late,” Amanda Hargreaves said as the two women walked arm in arm through the town.
“Don’t fuss, Amanda,” Bess said and chuckled. “You always say that and we’re never late for anything. We’re always really early, not to mention disheveled and sweaty.”
“Bess!” Amanda shrieked with delight.
“Well, it’s true. You rush me through the town until I’m sweating. I don’t know how else to put it.”
“Perspiring?” Amanda teased.
“You and your books!” Bess Lawler laughed loudly. “And you and your plays! I can’t believe I’m linking arms with you only to be dragged to another one of these awful evenings.”
“Even though Brad Turner is in it? I don’t think you needed any dragging at all this time. In fact, if you really don’t want to see the play, we can turn back.” Amanda’s smile was wide and playful as she turned her friend around in the street until they were facing back in the other direction entirely.
“Noooo!” Bess complained and fought to turn them back again.
They were breathless and laughing from their good-natured ribbing.
“I knew it,” Amanda said when they set off again for the town barn where the local amateur players always put on their plays. “You’re eyes nearly rolled right out of your head when he came into the diner the other day.”
“No, they didn’t!”
“And I thought you’d swallow your teeth right down with that big ole bite of apple pie you’d just taken.”
“Oh, very funny, Amanda Hargreaves. Very funny, indeed. Maybe you should get up on the stage and tell a few jokes before the play starts.”
“I don’t know about that, Bess, you’re the only person in this town who finds me funny.”
“Odd, not funny.” Bess’ eyes lit up with amusement. “But you have to admit, Brad Turner is the most handsome man in all of Oregon.”
“He’s got a nice face, sure enough. And I’ve never heard anything bad about him either, so I approve.”
“Oh, I have your blessing, do I?” Bess said and wore a look of mock outrage.
“You sure do.” Amanda chuckled.
“Maybe I’ll get to talk to him tonight. Maybe he’ll remember me from the diner.”
“Of course, he will, Bess. You’re the prettiest girl in town, why wouldn’t he see you, honey?” Despite their teasing, Amanda and Bess were as close as sisters and fiercely wished for the best for each other.
“You’re too kind.”
“Oh, I know!” Amanda grinned again. “I’m just kidding. So, what part is the lovely Brad Turner actually playing tonight? I hope it’s nothing mean, or I’ll rescind my blessing.”
“You’ll what?” Bess frowned as she always did when her friend came out with a word she couldn’t identify.
“I’ll take it back.”
“Why didn’t you just say that?”
“Because I thought you knew the word. Didn’t you sit right beside me in the schoolroom all those years?” It was a familiar little piece of comedy.
“I did, honey, but only so that I could peer over your shoulder and copy your answers.”
“I thought you just liked me.” Amanda tried to look wounded.
“I… well….” Bess shrugged; what she lacked in vocabulary, she more than made up for in humorous timing.
“Ha, ha!” Amanda lightly pinched her friend’s arm.
“And who knows, maybe we’ll find a nice man for you, too. Some bookish man with little eyeglasses and a squint.”
“If only,” Amanda said wistfully. “Not the squint, just the man. If I don’t find someone I like soon, I’ll be stuck with Garth Walton forever.”
“Is he really so bad? I mean, he sure is handsome. I reckon he’d even give Brad Turner a run for his money.”
“Do you think?” Amanda asked thoughtfully. “I suppose he’s just not for me. I don’t see his pretty face because I’m too busy looking for something interesting about him. And interesting he sure ain’t.” Amanda shuddered.
“Isn’t. Or, is not,” Bess teased. “Ain’t ain’t a word, honey. I thought you of all people would know that.”
“You really are aflame tonight, Bess Lawler!”
“I think it’s the excitement.”
“I think it’s too much apple pie.”
“Do you really not like Garth Walton at all?” Bess said, her tone becoming a little more serious.
“I have nothing in common with him. Unless you count the fact that we both come from a farming family. According to my parents, that ought to be enough. Oh yes, that and the fact his family are well connected with Kirby Thornhill.”
“Just because he has connections to the richest man in town, does that make him bad?”
“No, I just don’t like it being given to me as a reason to like him. Like I ought to be grateful Garth even looked my way.” She stopped walking and thought for a moment. “Actually, he didn’t even do that. His parents and mine decided it would be a good idea, I reckon.”
“But you’re not engaged to him. There’s been no mention, has there?”
“Bess, you know what my father is like. This is his slow buildup. This is him putting us together bit by bit a
nd hoping that I’ll be fooled into thinking it was my idea, like I have any real choice in the matter.”
“Your daddy won’t make you marry him if you don’t want to, surely?” Bess sounded distinctly concerned.
“You don’t reckon?” Amanda shook her head sadly. “He’ll find some way. He’s not a bad man, he just doesn’t see me as much more than a bargaining chip. Just something to improve his own standing in the community.”
“I reckon you’re being a little hard on him, Amanda.”
“That’s because you only ever see his good side. You see that happy, smiling side he portrays to the world at large. You don’t ever have to put up with being manipulated by him. By my mama too, at times.”
“She’s probably just keeping the peace.”
“Yes, but she’s using my life to do it. Honestly, I don’t know why folk want children at all if this is what it boils down to. I wouldn’t raise a child, worry about that child, love that child, and then disregard their own happiness the minute they turn eighteen. I have my own hope for my life, my own dreams, why should someone have to marry who they’re told?”
“I expect it’s only women who have to put up with the marriage and maybe it’s only them who worry about the children,” Bess said in solidarity.
“I don’t know. Maybe. But maybe there are fathers out there who think that sons are their property, too. There’s a sense of ownership with families which ought never to exist.”
“I know, honey,” Bess said, although it was clear from her tone that Amanda was starting to lose her.
But Amanda didn’t tease this time; it was the wrong moment for such a thing. The two women really did look at things differently, saw something different in any situation. But they had friendship, caring, and humor in common. As far as Amanda was concerned, Bess was her best friend in all the world and always would be.