Bartered Bride Romance Collection

by Cathy Marie Hake

  Mrs. Millberg huffed, and her daughter fussed about her frilly pink dress while Mr. Millberg scowled and rumbled, “Now see here. These are ladies—”

  Rawhide interrupted, “Are you implying the other women in my train aren’t ladies, Millberg?”

  Papa leaned forward and helped himself to a chicken leg as he quoted under his breath, “ ‘ ’Twas yet some comfort, when misery could beguile the tyrant’s rage, and frustrate his proud will.’ King Lear, act IV, scene 6.”

  Penny whispered, “Oh, I thought that was from Taming of the Shrew!”

  Bethany dropped her chicken wing as her composure slid toward mirth.

  Josh snatched it from the blanket. “Fly, little bird!” He tossed it toward the parson’s big yellow hound that lay in the grass.

  “Josh!” His name came out in a shocked interruption to her laughter. “You wasted food!”

  “No,” he said as he handed her another piece of chicken. “I paid a pittance for your priceless laughter.”

  Rawhide gave them only a short rest before he spat out a wad of chewing tobacco then rumbled, “Oregon ain’t coming to you. Best get a move on. Want to gain as much distance as we can while folks and beasts are fresh.”

  By nightfall they’d traveled to the Methodist Shawnee Mission. For the first time, Bethany saw Indians. The men bought feed for their livestock, and a few of the women started to cook supper.

  Josh insisted, “I’ll arrange for supper for us. It’s been a long day. I want you to rest.”

  Penny limped up. “Rest? Oh, that sounds heavenly. My feet are beyond sore. I’m inviting Papa and myself along. The honeymoon is over for you two.”

  “You’re welcome to join us.” Josh tugged Bethany away from the wagon wheel she leaned against. “But the honeymoon isn’t ever going to end.”

  The honeymoon isn’t ever going to end…. Josh’s words echoed in Bethany’s mind as he held her arm and led her back to their wagon after they’d enjoyed a delicious roast beef supper at the mission. All around them, folks unfurled bedrolls beneath their wagons. She smiled at him. “I guess this is our first night to have a canopy of stars.”

  Penny soaked her blistered feet in a bucket while they listened to some of the other travelers sing and fiddle.

  Bethany continued to stand by the campfire. She longed to rub her aching hips, but that simply wouldn’t do. Papa stood and swept his hand toward the chair in a gallant motion. “Thank you for the offer, but I prefer to stand.”

  Josh refilled his blue-speckled graniteware coffee mug and shot her a look. He sidled closer. “Wagon jounce you a bit too much?”

  She felt her cheeks go hot and confessed under her breath, “I’m liable to lose either my molars or manners if I sit down.”

  “Feel like a naughty girl who got a spankin’?”

  Straightening her shoulders, Bethany declared, “I have no idea what one of those would feel like.”

  Josh nodded his head knowingly, but his eyes sparkled with the impish humor she’d learned he exercised with endearing frequency. “I suspected as much. You must have been a very spoiled child.”

  Bethany made a show of looking about the wagon train as she declared, “I see all of the children have been tucked in. I suppose since I already have cinnamon rolls for our breakfast tomorrow, I’ll turn in now, too.”

  Papa chuckled. “You napped along with the children while we crossed the Blue River, too. Fast as it was moving, I expected the roaring water to wake you up, but you slumbered on. Josh promised you’d already bought enough flour, but we stopped at Fitzhugh Mill and bought one hundred pounds more of flour and fifty of grist corn.”

  Bethany stumbled, and Josh steadied her. She laughed as if she’d been clumsy … but fear welled up in her throat.

  Chapter 4

  All too early the next morning, the crack of a gunshot sounded as the train’s wake-up call. Bethany crept from their quilts beneath the wagon so she could start breakfast. Chilly air had her making coffee and oatmeal to go with the cinnamon rolls.

  “Delicious oatmeal, sweetheart,” Josh said as she refilled his mug. He smiled and leaned closer. “Do we have any hot water?”

  “A bit to do the dishes.”

  “Good. Dip your hanky into it then sneak it to me.” When she started to ask why, he silenced her with a quick kiss before whispering, “Tell you later.”

  Josh wandered off as soon as she handed him her mug. Inside, the soaking hanky steamed in the morning air. A few minutes later, he sauntered back, tossed back another mug of coffee, and hitched up their oxen.

  As he handed back her handkerchief, he murmured, “I needed it to draw a splinter out of Dillon Trier’s hand. It’s not a big deal, but his boss, Millberg, is so disagreeable, we want to keep quiet about it.”

  She whispered, “You trust me to keep a secret?”

  “Trier doesn’t mind you knowing as long as his boss is kept in the dark. I owe my patients their privacy, Beth. Many’s the time you won’t understand what’s happening. I’ll expect your blind trust on those occasions.”

  Bethany nested the dishes in the dish box mounted on the rear of the wagon then tucked her hands into the pockets of her apron. “If it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll walk today.”

  Josh studied her for a long moment then said, “Fine, but we get to eat supper alone then.” He tapped her nose playfully. “And don’t leave your shoes in a mud puddle along the way.”

  As she walked along, Bethany thought of Josh each time she saw wet patches of earth. This was the first day since their wedding that they’d been apart, and though she’d felt awkward with him yesterday, she missed him now. Plans for a nice, private supper filled her mind. What would make him happy?

  Happy. He’d bent over backward to make her feel cherished. Guilt speared through her as she wondered how he’d react when he discovered her fear of water. Would he be understanding, or would he be mad? Deep in her heart, she knew she ought to have told him about this weakness of hers, but Bethany had feared he’d not wed her if she confessed how she dreaded water, and she couldn’t let him leave her behind.

  Penny chattered about the other folks on the trail, and she caught Bethany’s attention when she dropped her voice and said, “Mr. Millberg has the looks and temperament of a troll!”

  Bethany choked on her laughter then said, “Our guide surely took care of him yesterday. Why, the way Mr. Rawson championed all of us ladies—I think he’s quite clever.”

  Penny shuddered.

  “You needn’t fear him. Josh told me he researched the guides, and I trust his judgment implicitly. Rawhide’s capabilities and character truly impressed him. I’m going to think of our guide as a tattered knight.”

  “Knight? He’s as superstitious as a Saracen! If you want to talk about knights, I’m positively surrounded by them. Will you think me too bold if I invite any of the men over for supper?”

  Bethany shook her head. “Not tonight. Josh and I want to have a supper for two. Maybe tomorrow night. Mrs. Throckmorton would suggest Josh or Papa extend the invitation, though.”

  “Invites for what?”

  Bethany and Penny both spun around at the sound of that deep voice. Penny stumbled and landed in a flurry of skirts and petticoats with a shriek.

  “We’re discussing supper, Mr. Rawson,” Bethany stammered.

  He crossed one wrist over the other on his pommel and leaned forward. “Call me Rawhide. And call me for supper, too. I’m obliged for the invite. See you just after sunset.”

  After he rode off, Bethany helped Penny up. “You’ll have to handle him tonight.” Penny clung to her. “You can’t expect me to entertain that heathen alone tonight!”

  “Papa will be with you—”

  “Papa will wander off and start reciting Shakespeare. Josh is the one who’s vouching for Mr. Rawhide. The least you two can do is help me. You’ll have plenty of other nights to share a private meal. After all, we’re family—you have to stick by me!”

&nb
sp; Penny was right … but Bethany felt her heart hitch. Would Josh be disappointed? Maybe not. He’d sent her off quite easily this morning. She spied a stem and white flowers and yanked a wild onion from the ground next to where Penny had fallen.

  “See? That is a sign.” Penny folded her arms resolutely. “I’m sure of it.”

  Bethany looked at the onion pensively. Surely Josh would agree that his sister needed their support. “With this as a start, what kind of menu do we serve to a Saracen?”

  The next morning, Bethany moaned when she lifted the lid to the dutch oven. Last night’s stew and fry bread turned out quite creditably. Josh hadn’t said a word about them dining with his family and Rawhide, but she’d sensed tension in his shoulders, and he’d jiggled his leg instead of sitting still. Nonetheless, he’d said a kind word about the food. Unfortunately, her luck hadn’t held out. The top of the breakfast biscuits still looked gummy, but the bottoms …

  “Ma’am,” the bass voice of one of the Cole brothers whispered over her shoulder, “them biscuits of yourn are burnin’.”

  The lid clattered and dropped onto the ground. “Oh. Yes. Oh, my.”

  “Ain’t no need to fret.” The big, black-haired man stooped, used the edge of his unbuttoned brown shirt to lift the lid, and shook off a few leaves. “Lookie here.” He swiped her favorite crimson potholder, took the dutch oven, and flipped the biscuits onto the inside of the lid, then neatly slipped them back into the oven upside down. “Iffen you settle coals atop the lid, they even up the heat so’s the biscuits cook easily.”

  Bethany stared at the charred biscuit bottoms and chewed her lower lip to keep from crying. She knew her face must match the hot pan holder. Suddenly, the raised lip on the dutch oven’s lid made sense.

  “Betcha ain’t cooked none on an open fire.”

  “Just supper last night,” she confessed thickly.

  The black-haired giant leaned forward and rested his hands on his knees so he’d be at eye level with her. His voice rumbled softly. “You’ll learn. My ma, she taught me. I reckon a smart lady like you’ll pick it up right fast.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Cole.” Whichever one you are …

  “Ain’t nothing. I was fixin’ to start our vittles. Just need to reheat last night’s cornmeal mush and coffee. Iffen you don’t mind me sharin’ your fire, I’d be much obliged.”

  Five minutes later, Bethany watched as Josh tucked bacon into a singed biscuit and gamely ate it. Papa and Penny exchanged a look, said nothing, and ate the unburned portions of their biscuits. Bethany intentionally served herself the worst of the batch. Bad enough she’d burned them—the least she could do was suffer the consequences. Both of them looked like lumps of charcoal. The first bite tasted so dreadful, she sneaked the bacon out of them, then secretly dumped both into the fire as she reached for the coffeepot.

  Mr. Cole turned out a neat breakfast and deftly slipped a wedge of fry bread into her apron pocket. Looking innocent as could be, he offered, “Doc, iffen you wanna take yore missus up to see Blue Mound today, I’ll drive your rig awhile.”

  “I’d like that. Thanks.”

  Later Joshua cradled Bethany across his lap as Tonic crested the peak of Blue Mound. She gasped, and his arms tightened as they stared out at the expanse of prairie ahead of them. “Land! Hundreds of miles of land.” And not a river in sight …

  “Ready to cross that?”

  “The books said the trip takes six months, but it looks like we’ll take an eternity to traverse that.”

  “We’ll make our way across together.” He turned her face to his and brushed a kiss across her lips.

  Bethany whispered against his cheek, “The adventure of a lifetime.”

  “Rawhide groused about folks coming up here for a peek. I wish we had longer to gaze out, but if we hurry back, Bert Cole said he’d jump from driving our wagon to driving Papa’s so he and Penny could view this, too.”

  As they rode back toward their green wagon, Bethany rested her head on his shoulder. He relished the feeling of her leaning against him, as if she fully entrusted herself into his care. Still, he needed to say something. “About supper last night—we were supposed to dine alone, and you invited a guest.”

  “I’m so sorry! Penny’s terrified of Rawhide, and she insisted you wouldn’t mind protecting her from him. I didn’t know what else to do.”

  He stayed silent. If he complained about helping out his family, he’d certainly set her off. Besides, she’d almost paid him a compliment by saying he was capable of protecting them. Seeing as she’d apologized, he let the matter drop.

  “Josh? I hate to ask, but how did you know which Cole brother is which? I can’t tell them apart!”

  “There’s a space between Bert’s front teeth. With Beau and Buck being identical twins, I’m as lost as you are.”

  “You’re good at noticing little details.”

  “It’s part of being a doctor.” He dipped his head and whispered, “It’s part of being a husband, too. This honeysuckle perfume of yours sure appeals to me.”

  “I confess, I dabbed it on to disguise the scent of those biscuits I incinerated.”

  “And here I thought you were being biblical.”

  She gave him a baffled look.

  “I saw you reading Leviticus last night.” He couldn’t hide the chuckle in his voice as he teased, “So I figured you were inspired this morning to give a burnt offering.”

  For an instant, she winced, then her expression changed to carry a playful air. “I was just practicing for tomorrow. Since it’ll be Sunday, I want to be sure to char them to perfection.”

  “I suppose we’ll be healthy, then. One of my medical texts recommends charcoal for digestive complaints.”

  “Only thing is, you’re complaining and won’t digest,” she muttered. “Mrs. Throckmorton always gave me peppermint for such maladies. I like her medicine better.”

  “I like this medicine the most.” He dipped his head and kissed her sweetly.

  Sunday, after they spent part of the morning listening to a fine sermon on perseverance and had a quick noon meal, the wagon train set out. Penny started to plan a supper menu aloud.

  “Actually”—Bethany felt her cheeks go hot—“since our plans got scuttled because you were afraid of our guide, I’m going to insist that you’re on your own tonight. Josh and I are going to celebrate our one-week anniversary.”

  That evening Bethany lit a candle, stood back, and smiled. She’d covered the table with a white linen cloth and put a fistful of Johnny-jump-ups and poppy mallow in a tin cup. Her corn bread turned out perfectly. When Josh came around the wagon, she singsonged, “Happy anniversary!”

  He’d just seated her and taken his place when Megan Crawford ran up with her arm about her nephew, Jeremiah. “Doc, I’m sorry, but this can’t wait.”

  Later, while Josh carried Jeremiah back to the Crawford wagon, Bethany took a deep breath and picked her beautiful Irish linen tablecloth out of the dirt. Josh had swept supper clean off the table so he could lay the twelve year old there to set his badly broken arm. By the time Josh came back, she was prying cold corn bread from the pan to serve with the rest of the stew. Two hounds had slunk over and feasted out of the bowls that got knocked off the table. Yesterday’s burned biscuits, now a ruined anniversary supper … She tried to tamp down her disappointment. Either her dreams were going up in smoke or to the dogs.

  Chapter 5

  Josh watched his wife and sister walking in the distance. They’d joined the other women and children, keeping free from the dust the wagons kicked up. Penny and Bethany chattered like two magpies on a clothesline. He didn’t want to begrudge his wife and sister their friendship, but it irritated him to feel as if he had to keep walking a tightrope between being a newly wedded man and an amiable son and brother. Everyone else seemed more than satisfied with how things were going. Everyone but him.

  Indeed, most of the folks had settled into traveling quite nicely. Farmers sat at the campf
ire at night, remarking on how they’d normally be plowing and planting, so this felt like a pleasant holiday. Little girls plucked fistfuls of wildflowers; and the women had taken to harvesting handfuls of watercress, wild parsley, and wild onions. Boys threw rocks and played with slingshots. Because the wagons jounced so badly, most of the men walked alongside the wagons and occasionally cracked whips in the air to direct the oxen instead of riding on the hard, wooden seats.

  Why doesn’t Bethany walk with me?

  The temperature dropped to freezing last night. They’d awakened to frost on everything. Instead of complaining, Bethany cheerfully whipped the cream she’d skimmed from the milk she’d gotten from Lady Macbeth last night, added in a bit of sugar, and whisked it with a few drops of cherry extract. They all ate their ice cream atop buttermilk flapjacks for breakfast. Remembering how she’d recalled aloud how he held a particular fondness for those flapjacks made him feel guilty for being surly about her skipping along with his sister.

  He wondered what Bethany planned for supper. The first few days she’d cooked over the fire, she’d incinerated most of their food; but after a week and a half, she’d grown quite adept at making delicious meals.

  They’d decided after the first few days that a morning prayer together would have to suffice, rather than lengthy devotions. With him needing to hitch the oxen and her seeing to breakfast, matters were too hurried for much more. In the evenings, they’d sit side by side and have their Bible reading time. He’d thought she might enjoy starting with the story of Noah—it struck him as fitting. As a matched pair, they were on a journey to a new life. It was the only time he’d noticed she didn’t seem to enjoy their spiritual time together. Every once in awhile, he thought he caught a flicker of discontent on her face; but just as he got ready to ask, she always managed to say something perky that proved he’d simply misread her.

  Marriage wasn’t quite as easy as he’d expected it to be.

  “So much for honeysuckle perfume,” Bethany sighed as the sun set the next day.