by Linda Ford
Wagon Train Wedding
Linda Ford
Contents
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
Epilogue
Sneak peek of Wagon Train Matchmaker
Also by Linda Ford
1
Santa Fe Trail, late fall, 1848
“What do you mean she’s missing?” Gil Trapper, scout for the Santa Fe Trail wagon train looked at the worried faces around him. How could Judith Russell be missing? She’d been traveling with the train since they left Independence near on to a month ago. From the beginning she’d been a good traveler, doing her share, and helping others. His observations said she was not the sort to do something foolish. He tried to think what else he knew of her. Sister to seasoned traders on the trail, Luke and Warren. Younger than either of them. Seems he’d heard Luke say she was twenty. Not that her age had any bearing on this situation.
“She was out walking by the wagons. We didn’t think much at first when she wasn’t here when we stopped. We thought maybe she’d fallen behind and would catch up. But she should have been here by now and she isn’t. And we don’t see her coming.” As she talked, Luke’s wife, Donna Grace, clutched her infant to her breast as if afraid the baby girl would up and disappear.
The others joined in, voicing their concerns.
Before Gil could reassure them that she had simply fallen behind, Luke and Warren rode up on horseback.
“We’re going to find our sister,” Warren said.
Gil nodded. “Let me inform Buck and I’ll join you in searching.” As the wagon master, Buck needed to know what was going on. “The rest of you stay here and take care of things.”
Having noticed the worried knot of people, Buck rode up, demanded and received an explanation. He didn’t offer any empty consolations. They were all aware of how many disasters could have befallen the woman.
“We’ll ride along the back trail,” Warren said.
Gil accompanied the brothers. After two miles with no sight of her, they reined up to consider what to do.
“You two stick to the trail,” Gil said. “If she’s simply fallen behind, she’ll know enough to stay on it.” Or if she’d been injured in a fall or—there were hundreds of reason she might not be able to catch up. “I’ll ride toward the river and search there. Not that I expect to find anything.”
They parted ways and Gil turned off the trail. Every nerve in his body twitched with tension. If she’d simply fallen behind, they should have come upon her by now. Unless she’d gotten turned around and lost her way. Or had been set upon by one or more of those preying upon the wagon trains.
He guided his mount toward the bushes and trees along the river, pausing often to listen for any sound. Crows squawked at his intrusion. Smaller birds rustled in the autumn dried leaves. Coyotes began their mournful cry. His skin prickled with the knowledge that wolves had been spotted a day ago.
He rode onward, looking for any sign, listening for any sound. It would soon be dark. Lord, help us find her.
He jerked forward and strained toward the faint sound of a… baby crying? Surely he was mistaken. It must be some wild animal, though he couldn’t think what one made that sound.
Edging his horse toward the sound, he picked a path that allowed him to move quietly. He stuck his handgun into his belt and pulled his rifle from the scabbard.
A flash of movement caught his eye. He reined in and slowly dismounted, easing forward with the skill that four years on the trail had taught him until he had a clearer view.
“Judith,” he murmured.
She turned. “Thank goodness. I am thoroughly lost and so is this little one.” She tipped her head toward a girl child in her arms.
“Where did you find that?”
At his voice, the child looked at him with wide blue eyes. Her tousled hair was the color of liquid sunshine. She stuck two fingers in her mouth and sucked noisily.
He squatted down five feet from the pair, knowing he would be less scary to the girl if he wasn’t towering over her.
“I heard her crying, though at the time I was simply curious as to what it was. I know she must have parents somewhere but I’ve looked and looked. That’s how I became so disorientated and lost sight of the wagons.” She glanced past him. “How far are we from them?”
“Five miles more or less.” He pushed to his feet. “I best find her parents.” But as he headed back to his horse, Judith hurried after him.
“I’m going with you.”
He considered his options. If he took them with him it would slow him down but he would know they were safe and wouldn’t have to back track. “Come along.” Upon his return to the horse, he reached for the child.
Judith hesitated before she released her hold.
Gil took a good look at the little one who returned his study, her lips quivering. “She’s just a baby.”
“Old enough to walk. I think she must have wandered away. Her parents will be beside themselves with worry.”
Gil helped Judith to the saddle with one hand then lifted the little girl to her. Leading the horse, he slowly made his way through the bushes, looking for any sign of the parents.
“Where would she have come from?” Judith’s voice revealed a good deal of worry and a hefty dose of fatigue. She must have wandered about for several hours, anxious to reunite the baby with the doubtlessly worried parents.
“There’s a wagon train a few days ahead of us. They left a month before us.” What sort of delays had caused them to lose so much time? “One of the wagons must had dropped out.” He could think of no other explanation for a baby out in the wilds.
They continued for the better part of an hour, his attention on the ground. He often stopped and studied his surroundings. Something caught his attention and he bent low to the ground. “Wagon tracks.” They were several days old but no mistaking them and they went straight toward a thicket of trees. “You better stay here while I have a look.”
She looked ready to argue until she looked at the child in front of her. “I’ll wait here.” She’d correctly read his concern about what he might discover.
He led the horse to the protection of some trees against a rocky bank.
“If you hear gunshots, ride up the hill. You’ll come to the dusty trail in about a mile. Turn right and keep going.”
“And leave you? That doesn’t seem correct.”
“You can send back Buck or your brothers. But you must protect the child.”
Judith’s brown eyes held his, direct, challenging. He’d noted this about her already. A woman who wouldn’t back away from a challenge and who made it clear she didn’t expect to sit back and let others take care of her.
He waited for her cooperation.
Only after she nodded did he cradle his rifle in his arms and on silent feet, make his careful way toward the trees and whatever he might find there.
The bushes and branches were battered by people passing through. A few more feet and he saw a wagon tipped over, contents scattered wildly. He remained in the trees, watching for signs of danger. A groan drew his attention and he slipped through
the trees to the other side of the clearing.
His heart gave a violent beat at the sight of a man and woman on the ground, their clothes blood soaked. A glance informed him the woman was dead. He passed her and fell to his knees by the man. The color had left his face. Gil knew he watched the life leaving him.
“What happened?” Gil asked.
“Left wagon train. Wife sick. Robbers came upon us. Baby?” He tried to sit up.
Gil eased him back. “We found your daughter. She’s safe.”
“Thank God.” The man shuddered. “She’s Anna Harris. Anna. Eighteen months old.” He grabbed the front of Gil’s shirt. “Take her. Raise her as your own. We have no family.”
“She’ll be well taken care of. I can assure you of that.”
Mr. Harris’s grip tightened, his strength surprising considering his condition. “Promise me you will raise her.”
How could he? He wasn’t even married. Had no intention of entering that state. Oh sure. Once he’d thought it was what he wanted. Before Lillian had made him think otherwise. Finding her in the arms of another man when she talked of love and marriage to Gil had left him disillusioned about the faithfulness of a woman. He certainly had no notion of repeating his mistake.
Mr. Harris clutched at Gil’s shirt, a look of determination on his face. “I won’t let you go until you give me your word to take Anna.”
Gil unhooked the man’s fingers and eased him to the ground. “You have to understand I am not married. I can’t raise her.” Gil’s insides shriveled as the man sobbed. “But I promise I will find a good family for her.”
“Thank you.” Mr. Harris closed his eyes and struggled for breath. “We’ve been robbed but if there is anything you can use…”
“I’ll take care of everything. You sure there’s no one I should notify?”
“Tell Anna how much we loved her.” A inhalation shuddered in and out.
Gil watched Mr. Harris’s chest. But he’d taken his last breath. “Good bye. I’ll make sure Anna knows she is loved.”
He pushed to his feet and looked about. Torn clothing tossed about. Flour scattered recklessly. A trunk with the top torn asunder. Two bodies to take care of.
An hour later, with darkness closing in about him, he returned to Judith. Little Anna slept in her arms. He carried with him a bundle of clothing for the girl and a few items that had not been destroyed.
“What did you find?” Judith asked.
Gil could not say if it was fear or fatigue or even hunger that made her voice quiver. The darkness had deepened so he couldn’t make out her features well enough to read her expression.
“You might as well get down while I tell you.” He reached up for the sleeping Anna, holding her in one arm while he assisted Judith to the ground.
He led her to shelter by the trees. They sank to the grass and he told her what he had discovered. “I promised him I would see that the baby had a home.”
“I’ll keep her,” Judith said. “She’s quite won my heart. I’ll love her and take care of her as if she was my own flesh and blood.”
Little Anna’s head rested against Judith’s shoulder. Earlier, Judith had given her water from her canteen and a biscuit from her pocket. The child had fallen asleep, exhausted from crying and wandering about lost. “I will keep her,” she repeated, her voice growing stronger. From the moment she’d discovered little Anna, Judith’s heart had opened up and embraced her. Warren’s son had died five years ago. Judith’s baby sister had slipped away when Judith was seven. She missed them both and it made her want to protect and cherish this child. Her desire was magnified by the acknowledgment that she would not marry and have a child of her own. Her heart had been broken by the death of Frank, her fiancé. She’d had quite enough of loving and losing in her life
She ignored the possibility of more loss in her own future if she opened her heart to a child that could be snatched from her at any time. If not by someone claiming her then perhaps by illness or accident. Life was so uncertain. It made her want to shut herself off to risk but she couldn’t deny the protectiveness she felt toward this child. Little Anna had lost her parents. Judith would make sure she knew nothing but love.
“You’re unmarried. You have no home. How will you take care of her?”
The reasonableness of the man’s question did nothing to make Judith change her mind.
“I’ll manage somehow.” She knew how difficult it was for a woman alone to raise a child and she had no plans for the future apart from finding the man she blamed for her fiancé’s death and letting him know just how selfish his choices had been. Once she’d accomplished that she would find the ways and means of providing for herself and Anna. “Besides you’re not married either and you are a scout on the Santa Fe Trail.”
“I didn’t say I’d keep her. I said I would find her a family.”
Judith couldn’t miss the way he emphasized the final word.
Before she could argue Gil pulled forward two small bundles. “I found some clothing and things for her. And I managed to rescue a bit of food. We should eat.”
“Shouldn’t we rejoin the others?” A single man and a single woman alone for the night. It compromised both of them.
“We’ll stay here, and catch up to the wagon train in the morning.” His voice gave no clue as to how he felt about the situation.
She wasn’t prepared for the consequences of such an arrangement. “I’m not afraid to travel after dark. All we have to do is find the trail and stay on it.”
“It would be too dangerous.”
“I have no intention of spending the night alone with you.” She made it to her feet. Anna whined at being disturbed.
“Have you considered that the men who robbed that wagon and murdered those people are still out there?”
She sat back down with a thud. “I have no wish to be accosted by such men.”
“Seems wise to me.”
“There’s lots of wood here. We could build a fire.” Hot food and warmth would do much to make her more comfortable. As soon as she spoke the words she knew they were foolish. “Never mind. I don’t want to signal those awful men our whereabouts.”
“Another wise decision.”
Gil’s calm acceptance of their situation made her even more resentful of it.
“I found some biscuits and cooked meat.” He untied one bundle.
Anna wakened and reached for a biscuit. The three of them munched on the food. With darkness came the cold of the November night. Judith shivered and wished for her warm shawl or a woolen blanket. She pulled Anna into her arms to keep her warm.
“Mama,” Anna demanded.
“Honey, you have to stay here with us. Cuddle up and I’ll keep you warm.”
Anna pushed away. “Mama.” She squirmed from Judith’s arms and toddled away.
Judith caught her. “It’s too dark to look for your mama.”
Anna squirmed and fussed but Judith would not let her go.
“Hush, baby,” she crooned. “Go to sleep.” She sang a lullaby she’d heard from her own mother.
Anna struggled a few more minutes than stuck her two fingers in her mouth and within minutes fell asleep.
Neither Judith nor Gil spoke. On her part, Judith didn’t want to disturb the sleeping baby. But she must get Gil’s agreement on a certain matter.
“I really want to keep her. After all, I am the most familiar person she has left. It wouldn’t be fair for her to have that snatched away as well.”
“She hardly knows you better than anyone else after just a few hours.”
Judith considered herself a rational person, not given to outbursts or foolish arguments but Gil’s calm reasonableness caused something inside her to snap. “Where are you going to find a family for her? Most of those on the wagon train are rough drivers.”
“There’s your brother. He’s married now.”
“Luke and Donna Grace. Yes, but they have a new baby.”
“What makes you thin
k they wouldn’t welcome an older child?”
Judith wished she could see the man, but it was too dark so she had to be content with what she knew of him. Dark brown eyes, brown hair. A strong jaw and a mobile mouth. Until now she had considered him both kind and steady, but now she saw his steadiness for what it truly was—stubbornness.
“What makes you think they would?” She sounded petulant and petty but she couldn’t help it.
“I guess I’ll ask them.”
Was there a way she could speak to them first and ask them to say no? Judith could tell them that she had fallen in love with this child the minute she’d found her, weary and tearful and asking for her mama and papa. Something about the child’s woefulness had touched a familiar chord in Judith’s heart. She’d felt weary and tearful and abandoned when she’d learned of Frank’s death. Still did, if truth was to be told.
She’d promised to help Anna find her parents.
Now, she silently promised, she’d give the child the love and attention her parents would have given.
All she had to do was convince Gil, with his quiet stubbornness, to let her keep Anna.
2
Gil took a swallow of water and passed the canteen to Judith. She swallowed twice and returned it to him. He capped it firmly. Hot coffee would have been a nice treat but he had no trouble accepting the necessity of keeping their whereabouts as secure as possible.
“She hasn’t cried much,” he observed.
“I think it means she trusts me.”
“Could be.” He’d said about all he meant to on the subject of Anna staying with Judith and hoped she would let it go.
“I think her trust should be honored.” She said it with such conviction he wondered if she had more reason than little Anna for her statement. If he knew her better he might be tempted to ask. Would she tell him if he did? Perhaps someone had not honored her trust. He knew how that felt. He thought of Lillian and how she’d told him what she thought he wanted to hear. Or what served her best with no regard for the truth.