Wagon Train Wedding: Christian historical romance (Love on the Santa Fe Trail Book 2)

by Linda Ford

  She slowly brought her gaze to him. “Not the children.” She watched Anna playing contentedly with a piece of wood slated for the fire then eased her gaze back to Gil. She didn’t know what she wanted or expected but he was the seasoned traveler. Surely he could offer some sort of reassurance.

  He watched Anna. “From what I know, it starts with a fever and sore throat. Looks much like a cold. She certainly looks healthy enough.”

  Judith bolted to her feet. “We can do nothing but sit here and wait.” She watched the flames of the fire where her traveling companions sat and visited. The mournful notes of a mouth organ danced across the prairie and took up residence in her heart. “What if she gets sick?”

  He stood behind her. She felt the warmth of his body and despite herself, drew comfort from his calm strength. “First, we will pray she doesn’t get sick and then, if she does, we will do our best to nurse her back to health.” He moved forward so he could look into her face. “Do you believe God takes care of each of us?”

  “I used to. I want to, but now it’s not so easy.”

  “Because you lost your fiancé?”

  “You lost yours too.” Wasn’t that what he said? Or had he only said she had been unfaithful? “Does that make you wonder if God is watching over us?”

  “I struggled for a while then came to accept that He gives us a free will. So we can choose to turn aside from the right way. That doesn’t change who God is.”

  She considered the idea. “You’re saying God won’t stop bad things from happening when we choose a wrong way? Doesn’t that mean there are no second chances? What hope is there for us?”

  “God gives us as many chances as we need. We simply repent and He forgives.”

  “Why am I telling you my doubts? It will simply give you more reason to see me as inadequate.”

  He caught her hands. “When did I ever say you were inadequate? All I’ve said is I expect you to be faithful to our marriage vows.”

  She pulled her hands free. “If something happens to Anna, we will have no reason to be married to each other. Then what?”

  She was grateful for the dim shadows so she couldn’t see his expression better but she saw enough to know her question had angered him.

  “All I asked of you and you agreed to was that you be faithful and yet, here you are already looking for a way out.” He stalked to the edge of the light of the campfire and stared across to the others.

  A dozen arguments crowded her mind. She’d only married him so she could keep Anna. He’d been clear that he didn’t want the marriage any more than she did. Whatever his fiancée has done to him, whatever her act of unfaithfulness, it had hurt the man deeply. Her heart softened toward him as she recognized the same sort of sorrow in him that she carried like a shield.

  She wished she had words of comfort to offer him, but she had been unable to find them for herself, and certainly had none for another.

  Still she took a step toward him, but Anna let out a wail and they both rushed to her.

  “Mama,” Anna sobbed.

  Judith scooped her up. “I wondered how long it would be before she realized her parents were missing.” She bounced the baby up and down. “Mama’s not here, sweetie.”

  Anna leaned from Judith’s arms, reaching for the wagon.

  “Maybe she thinks her mother is in the wagon,” Gil said.

  Judith took Anna to the back of the wagon. Gil lit a lantern and brought it along. He held it over Judith’s head so Anna could see the wagon was empty.

  Really empty, Judith thought. “All our belongings must be crammed into the other wagons. Will they leave my things behind if diphtheria takes me?”

  “See, no mama,” Gil said.

  Anna wailed louder and thrashed about in Judith’s arms until she could hardly hold her.

  With an arm on Judith’s shoulder, Gil steered them away from the wagon. “Sufficient to the day is the evil thereof.”

  Judith wanted to be annoyed at his quiet acceptance of things, but instead found herself calmed.

  “No one has the diphtheria yet and we are going to pray.” He set the lantern on the ground, took Anna in one arm and one of Judith’s hands in his hand. “Lord God, maker of heaven and earth and all that is therein, healer and protector, the one who loves us enough to meet all our needs, I ask for Your protection over us against illness and evil. In Your name we trust.”

  Anna continued to cry and tried to throw herself from Gil’s hold. He had not raised his voice to pray. Yet each word had carried power and conviction straight into Judith’s fearful heart.

  “Amen,” she whispered and withdrew her hand.

  Gil walked around the campfire murmuring reassurances to the distraught little girl. “You’re safe with us. We’ll take good care of you and someday build you a castle in the sky out of fluffy white clouds. You’ll wear a crown of golden flowers and dance among the roses. You will be the fairest girl in all the land. Judith and I will be your new family.”

  His words, full of imagination, made her see a perfect future for Anna. One that she and Gil would be a part of.

  Anna’s sobs grew less frequent and then ended except for a catch in her breathing.

  “I think she’s fallen asleep,” Gil whispered. “Do you want to lay her down in the wagon?”

  Judith climbed inside, took the baby from him and settled her on the blankets. Her heart kicked in alarm. “She’s awfully warm,” she told Gil.

  “She’s worked up a sweat from crying.”

  Judith’s heart calmed. “Of course.” She waited a moment to make sure Anna stayed asleep then slipped from the wagon and gathered up the few dishes from their meal.

  “I’ll check on the animals.” Gil disappeared into the darkness.

  Judith stared after him feeling alone and adrift. What was to stop someone from sneaking in and robbing them? Or worse? Killing them like they had Anna’s parents.

  “Everything is fine out there.”

  She hadn’t heard Gil return and squealed.

  “Did I frighten you?”

  “A little.”

  “Sorry. Next time I’ll give a whistle.”

  “Not necessary. I was just thinking there is no hiding from those people who murdered the Harrises. We have a fire. And Anna has cried. We might as well send off fireworks to announce our presence.”

  “We are close to the others though. That will give anyone pause to attack us.”

  “I expect you mean to sound reassuring but I know how easy it would be to slip in under cover of darkness.” She looked past the wagon into the night, feeling very exposed. “Maybe we should make some sort of rope enclosure about this high.” She indicated her knees. “That would trip them. Maybe hang on some cutlery and pot lids to make a racket and scare them away. At least waken us though I don’t think I’ll sleep a wink.”

  “Don’t think you can stay awake for a week. That’s how long before we’re sure we’re out of danger.”

  She couldn’t help smile at his drool tone. “Maybe we can take turns staying awake.”

  “No need. Buck has posted a guard.”

  She jammed her fists on her hips and glared at him. “Why didn’t you say so in the first place instead of letting me ramble on.”

  His low-throated chuckle rumbled inside her chest. “It was too much fun listening to all the things you were going to do.” He chuckled again.

  She smiled. “I did go on, didn’t I?”

  “Maybe a tiny bit, though it’s reassuring to know what lengths you would go to make sure we’re all safe.”

  She stared into the distant darkness. If only Frank had realized she would have stood by him and helped him even though his stepbrother had stolen the money Frank needed to get his supplies. “Not everyone would agree.”

  “Who doesn’t agree?”

  She should not have opened that door. She could never tell him, or anyone, the shame she felt at Frank choosing death over standing by her side.

  “I know
what it feels to have someone be unfaithful. I gave you my word on that matter and I will stick to it.” Again, she had hinted at a conversation she didn’t care to have.

  “Someone was unfaithful to you? Your fiancé?”

  Before she had to find a way to deflect his question, Anna screamed and they both rushed to the back of the wagon.

  Gil jumped in before Judith could pull her skirts out of the way and he scooped up the crying child.

  “Mama,” she wailed, arching her back.

  “She’s warm,” Gil said.

  Judith’s heart gave a sluggish beat. “Bring her out.” Gil jumped down. Judith pressed her palm to Anna’s forehead. Indeed, she felt hot.

  “We must sponge her.”

  Anna wailed at being undressed. She wailed louder when Judith applied wet cloths to her tiny body. Gil held her as Judith continued her ministrations.

  Finally, with a gulping sigh, Anna relaxed in Gil’s arms.

  “She’s fallen asleep,” he murmured.

  Judith sank back on her heels. “Poor baby. Do you think it’s—” She couldn’t bring herself to utter the word that meant agony and death.

  “Is it possible she’s just missing her mama and papa?” he asked. “That’s a mighty big loss for someone her age.”

  “For anyone any age,” she said.

  “Granted. I didn’t mean otherwise, but she’s too young to understand, yet old enough to think they must be hiding somewhere.”

  She had to agree. Anna had looked in the wagon. Insisted on going around the wheels and tongue. She’d even pointed toward the other camp as if her mama and papa were visiting over there.

  Judith touched the baby’s forehead. “She doesn’t appear to be warm now. But is that from sponging her, or—?” She wished she could consult a doctor or a medical book.

  They sat by the fire that was now glowing coals. Neither of them seemed inclined to add more wood. After all, it was long past bedtime. The flames across the way had died out. Everyone had settled for the night.

  Everyone but Judith and Gil. Gil must have read her mind. “You might as well get some sleep. I’ll hold her a bit longer.”

  Judith looked longingly at the wagon. It would be so nice to stretch out and rest but she feared to take her eyes off Anna.

  “I’ll stay here and try and get a bit of sleep.” She got a blanket and pillow from the back of the wagon and wrapped up. She lay on the cold ground, wishing she had a fur robe under her like the one Luke had provided for Donna Grace, but of course, they couldn’t risk having to burn it so she’d have to make do.

  Gil tossed a bit of wood on the coals and soon flames provided some warmth. He leaned back against the wagon wheel, a blanket swaddling Anna.

  For now, things were peaceful. She had barely closed her eyes when Anna began to cry again, plaintive sounds, demanding sounds, sorrowful wails.

  Judith threw off the blanket and sprang to her feet.

  Please, God, not the diphtheria. Not when she’d married a man simply to provide a home for this child and then promised to be faithful to him.

  Please God. Don’t let it be for nothing.

  4

  Gil pressed his hand to Anna’s forehead as he’d seen Judith do. “She doesn’t seem overly warm.”

  Judith hovered over them. “I hope she’s just upset at her loss. Not that I like to see her so sad, but I know the end for that will be better than if she was sick.”

  Gil pushed to his feet and rocked the baby.

  Anna screamed and reached for Judith. She took the fretful child and jiggled her, singing a lullaby she had learned from her mother.

  After a moment, Anna calmed, two fingers in her mouth. Gil looked at their wood supply. Almost gone. “We’ll have to ration wood until we reach the Arkansas.” He lit the lantern for light.

  Anna watched him with accusing eyes.

  “I’m sorry, little gal. I wish I could make you feel better.”

  Judith crooned soothingly. Anna’s eyes drooped.

  “I think she’s asleep,” Gil whispered.

  “I’m not putting her down.”

  “Try and rest.” He moved the pillow toward her. She eased down and let out a sigh. He covered her with the blanket then settled himself with his head on his saddle and his old blanket over him.

  He barely relaxed when he was jerked up at Anna’s wail and slipped the baby from Judith’s arms.

  Judith sat up. “I’ll take her.”

  “Get some sleep.”

  “I’ll trade places with you in a few minutes.” She turned over, folded her hands under her cheek and sighed.

  He wrapped a blanket about Anna and walked up and down the side of the wagon, humming and murmuring to her. She fought sleep, unhappy and unsettled, but buried her head against his chest as if defeated by her sorrow.

  His heart cracked open and bled at his helplessness. “Little gal, I wish I could do something to ease your pain but I can’t. I couldn’t even find a way to deal with my own other than to ride away.” He realized it no longer hurt to think of Lillian’s unfaithfulness. “Guess being on the trail heals broken hearts. Maybe it will do the same for you.” He watched Judith sleeping. She’d been hurt too. Her fiancé had died. Something she’d said…skimmed over without allowing him to ask about it…pulled at his thoughts. Not everyone would think she would stand by them. What did she mean by that?

  So many things he didn’t know about her. And she didn’t know about him. He supposed they had the rest of their lives to learn things if they cared to.

  He’d been so lost in his thoughts that when Anna threw herself backwards, he almost dropped her. “Whoa there, little gal.”

  Judith pushed the blanket to her feet and stood up. “I’ll take her. You get some rest.” She touched Anna’s forehead. “Thankfully she doesn’t seem to be fevered.” She lifted the baby from Gil’s arms. “Go lie down.”

  She offered the Anna a drink of water then broke off a bit of biscuit and gave it to her.

  Anna sucked on it and seemed content.

  Weary from too many nights of broken sleep and too many sorrowful events, he settled again with his head on his saddle.

  Seems he had barely closed his eyes when Anna screeched and he bolted to his feet. “What’s wrong?”

  Judith bounced the baby and rocked back and forth on her feet. “I don’t know. How do you know what’s wrong with someone too young to tell you?”

  “Guess?”

  Anna quieted a bit to listen to them then threw herself backwards and wailed.

  “Poor little gal.” Gil took her from Judith. “You’d think she’d be so exhausted she would sleep despite herself.”

  Flames flared across the way. “Freighters are up. It’s morning.” She yawned. A second fire flared closer to them as Warren lit a fire for the travelers. “I wonder if anyone got sleep last night.”

  Buck rode toward them. “Is the baby sick?” he called from a safe distance.

  “Not that we can tell,” Gil raised his voice to be heard, setting Anna into another bout of loud crying.

  “Mrs. Shepton would like to speak to you.”

  “I’ll go,” Judith said, and in the thin morning light, went toward the woman who waited outside the circle of wagons. Judith stopped after a few steps keeping a goodly distance away.

  Gil strained to hear what was said.

  “It’s good to think the baby isn’t sick.” Mrs. Shepton called.

  Judith gave a mirthless little laugh. “I’m sorry we kept everyone awake.”

  “It’s not your fault. I venture to say Anna hasn’t been weaned so is missing her mother for more than just her absence. I’ve prepared a sugar rag. I’ll leave it here. See if that helps.” The woman put something on the ground and then withdrew.

  Judith hurried to the spot and picked up the object. She brought it back to their lonely wagon.

  It was a piece of heavy linen fashioned to something the thickness of Gil’s thumb and about half as long. “W
hat is it?”

  Judith grinned. “It holds a lump of sugar. Anna can suck on it and be soothed.” She stuck it in Anna’s open mouth.

  The baby spat it out and wailed.

  “Come on, try it.” Judith put it in again. Again, Anna spit it out.

  “Just a minute.” Judith sprinkled water on it to dampen the material. She waited a moment until she was satisfied then again put it in Anna’s mouth.

  Before the baby could spit it out, she tasted the sweet and her eyes widened. She closed her mouth around the rag and sucked. Within minutes she fell asleep in Gil’s arms.

  He looked down at her peaceful face and something as strong as the prairie wind and as sweet as the sugar rag rose inside him. His heart had opened to love for the first time since he’d discovered Lillian in another man’s arms. This love was not at all the same. This love was full and free, protective and pleased. All he wanted was to be to this child, a father, a provider. All he wanted was a chance to love her freely.

  He lifted his gaze to Judith. She must have read something in his gaze for her eyes softened and a tiny smile curved her lips. If he knew her better he would be tempted to say she liked what she saw.

  “I’ll put her down.” She slipped her arms around Anna. For a moment they both held the baby. She lifted her gaze to his. Something about the realization of his feelings for Anna had caused a crack in his heart, one that let some tiny, unfamiliar feeling escape. Or did the feeling enter? He couldn’t say. Couldn’t even say what to call the feeling. Nor if he welcomed it or feared it.

  Judith took the weight of the child and carried her to the blanket she had used off and on throughout the night and settled her there. She stood over Anna for a second, making sure she would remain asleep.

  Gil went to Judith’s side and they watched over the baby.

  Judith reached for Gil’s hand. “We are all she has.”

  He squeezed Judith’s hand. “We will take care of her. Together.” They had exchanged marriage vows that seemed but distant bells clanging. This vow united them far more than those had.

  Oxen mooed and mules brayed. Men called out to the animals. It was time to prepare for the day’s journey. Gil slipped away. He had a job to do.