[Oregon Trail Time Travel 04.0] Angie and the Farmer

by Susan Leigh Carlton

  “That is so sad,” Mandy told her.

  “Can we talk about something else?”

  “What was it like flying in those things that went so fast?” Mandy asked.

  “Most of the time, it’s just like sitting in a chair. If you look out the window, it’s hard to tell you’re moving because you’re so high, except when you’re landing.”

  “How high?

  “Thirty-five thousand feet. That would be six or seven miles.

  “I would be so scared I would probably wet myself,” Mandy said.

  Angie laughed. “They have bathrooms where you do that. A lot of people are afraid to fly, but just think, as far as you traveled in seven months, you could go in four or five hours.”

  “Now that would be nice, but we wouldn’t have been able to see you in the tree from that high up.”

  “Jeremy would have found me. His curiosity never ends.”

  “I’m glad you’re here with us, but I wish there had been an easier way for you to do it.”

  “So do I. My feet are still tired.”

  “That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” Mandy said. She pulled Angie into an embrace and held her. “I love you. My whole family loves you.”

  “If you try to kiss me, I’ll slug you. I love all of you too. And, I’m grateful to you too. Now let’s drag this tree out of here.”

  “You sound just like your husband.”

  When they went back inside, Angie said, “Look at the needles on the floor. Mama is going to be all over us. I’ll get the broom.”

  Sophie came from the bedroom while Angie was sweeping. “I just swept this morning.”

  “It made a mess when we dragged the tree out. I thought I’d better get it cleaned up before you saw it and got mad.”

  “It’s a good thing you did. I can be mean when I’m riled.” Her smile showed she was joking.

  “I know, Jed told me.”

  “He’s certainly been on the receiving end enough to know.”

  “I was always the good child,” Mandy said.

  “You got your share of it too, little girl.”

  “Speaking of little girls, has Seth been to see his little one since Christmas?” Angie asked.

  “He was here yesterday,” Sophie said. “He even looked a little better. Hiram said he will have a livable place in another week or two.

  “He told me yesterday he has put an advertisement in the Matrimonial News for a wife.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Mandy said.

  “Why don’t you answer the ad?” Angie asked Mandy.

  “I can’t answer it if I don’t see it.”

  “Oh come on Mandy, there are ways. The next time we go to town, we can see if the mercantile knows anything about it. Where would it come from anyway?”

  “I imagine the one in this area would come from San Francisco,” Sophie said. “There was a man on our train that told us it was published in three places. I would guess you have to get it in the mail though.

  “I didn’t know you were that interested in getting married,” her mother said. Your pa and I were talking about it the other night.

  “Of course I would like to get married,” Mandy said. “It’s just we don’t have too many unmarried men coming around here.”

  “You have one,” Angie pointed out.

  “He’s still grieving for Polly.”

  “He has a daughter that needs a mother. That should speed up the process,” Angie said. “You would be a good mother for Martha.”

  “You’ve been sweeping that same spot for ten minutes. I think you’ve gotten all of the needles by now,” Mandy said.

  “I’m thinking.”

  “Don’t go matchmaking for me, Angie.”

  “Seems to me I said something just like that to you a while back. Why shouldn’t I? You kept at me about Jed until I finally gave in. The least I can do is return the favor.”

  “Seth probably thinks of me as a young girl, not as a woman.”

  “You don’t know that. If he opens his eyes and takes a good look at your figure, he’ll know you’re not a little girl.”

  “My figure?” Mandy asked.

  “Yes, your figure. Your butt, and your boobs are not those of a little girl.”

  “That’s almost scandalous you thinking that way,” Mandy said.

  “You mean to tell me you’ve never looked at yourself in the mirror when you have no clothes on? I certainly look at myself.” Mandy’s face colored, because she had done the same.

  “All girls do. The honest ones admit it,” Angie said.

  “So do older women,” Sophie said. “I want to be attractive for my husband.”

  “This conversation is getting beyond embarrassing,” Mandy said. “Seth has never…”

  “He was happily married, and now he’s not anymore,” Angie said. “He’s a good man. If you’re interested, don’t let him get away.”

  Later…

  “Angie, do you really think I should set my cap for him?”

  “Now you know no one can answer that for you. You’re talking about something that would affect three people for the rest of their lives… You, Seth, and Martha.

  “Listen to me giving advice to someone two years older than I am.”

  “This is the reason I always wanted a sister so I’d have someone to talk with about things like this.”

  “I’ll say it again. If you’re interested, don’t let him get away. You can see how happy I am married to Jed. I have hope and I’m looking forward to the future.”

  “If you could go back now, would you?”

  “I think I would under two conditions. One would be if Jed could go too. If he couldn’t, I would go only if I was sure I could come back here.

  “There’s no point talking about it. I can’t go, and I’m happy now. That’s what counts.”

  “You never know. Strange things do happen,” Mandy said.

  “Especially around me,” Angie said.

  The End… (for now)

  Epilogue

  Angie and Jed had four children, two boys and two girls. The oldest daughter was named Alexandra after Angie’s mother, and the youngest was Sophronia for her paternal grandmother. Their oldest child, Hiram, was named for his grandfather. The youngest boy was named Jedadiah after his father.

  The Lewis farms were a financial success, and were combined into one when taken over by Jedadiah after his father decided to retire. Jed passed away in 1920, and was followed by Angie in 1925.

  When Angie passed, her daughters, Sophie and Martha arranged the funeral. When they sorted through her possessions, they found the small pink, rectangular object they had seen their mother holding many times. Neither knew what the object was, and when they asked about it, their mother told them it had been a Christmas gift from her father.

  The two girls decided to put it in the coffin with their mother. She was buried in the Lewis family cemetery.

  Mandy’s story will be chronicled in a sequel to Angie and the Farmer.

  In 1937, portions of the original farm were taken by eminent domain process to be used as a school site. Almost all of the graves in the family cemetery were relocated to another part of the farm... It was almost all, because one was missed.

  Excerpts

  The following pages are excerpts from other books in the Oregon Trail Time Travel Romance Series.

  You are invited to visit my website, Susan Leigh Carlton for more information. You are also invited to sign up for my reader’s list where you can receive unedited, pre-publish first chapters of my new books. I do not spam, nor do I sell email addresses. You have the option to unsubscribe at any time.

  Thank you for your interest in my efforts.

  Susan Leigh Carlton

  Romance in Time

  The deafening crack of thunder startled her; followed by a spectacular flash of sparks and flame as the bolt of lightning split a tall Ponderosa pine down the middle leaving both halves smoking; and their branches consumed i
n flames. Momentarily blinded, Abby swerved and lost control of her Subaru. Even though she was buckled in, she felt the sensation of flying through the air. She could see the ground beneath her, so she knew she was not in a car. She flew through a wall of blackness and found herself in the middle of nowhere.

  No highway, no buildings, just the two men on horseback. And what seemed like an endless stream of wagons, some pulled by oxen, others by horses. Most of the animals were controlled by men who walked along side. Some wagons had women on the seat, while others had women walking alongside. They all looked weary, not a smile on any of them. Small children peeked out of the arched coverings in the rear of the wagons. The dust kicked up by the hundreds of hooves and wheels hung over the wagons like a low hanging tan cloud.

  The man in the brown duster, who looked to be about forty-five, was astride a dun colored horse, asked, “Miss, what are you doing outchere all by yourself? If one of the Lakota raiding parties had found you instead of us, there ain’t no telling what they’da done. Did you get lost from one of the trains on up ahead of us? I ain’t seen you on ours before.”

  “No,” Abby replied. “I wasn’t on a wagon. I don’t know how I got here.”

  “You don’t know or you don’t remember?” the previously silent man said, pulling the reins of his large roan horse, causing it to back up. He was wearing jeans, a denim shirt, and a wide brimmed hat. He had a stubble on his chin with dark curly hair touching his collar.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Lightning struck a tree; I lost control and here I am.”

  “Your horse throwed you?” the first man asked.

  “I didn’t have a horse, and I don’t know how I got here.”

  “Well, you didn’t just fall out of the sky,” the older man said.

  “I don’t think I did either, but I don’t have an explanation,” Abby replied.

  “Jack, I think she’s likely been in the sun too long,” the older man said.

  “What’s your name, ma’am?” Jack asked.

  “Abigail Sanders.”

  “I’m Caleb Watson, the wagon master. This here’s Jack Calhoun. He’ll take you back to the preacher’s wagon; we’ve got to keep moving if we’re going to make it to the next water before dark.” He waved his arm in a circle over his head, signaling the wagons to begin rolling.

  “Sir… Mr. Watson, I was going home to my grandfather’s ranch outside Laramie. How can I get there?”

  “I don’t rightly know. We must be fifty or sixty miles from Fort Laramie. We can’t turn around and go back. That’d be three days or more, and we can’t spare the time.”

  “Not Fort Laramie, Just Laramie. I had been to the fort and was going back home.”

  Jack helped her onto the horse behind him. “Hold on, Miss Sanders, I don’t know how far back the preacher’s wagon is. You’ll like them. They’re nice people.”

  Belle of the Ball

  Anna was in the Ladies Room when the lights flickered. She quickly took note of where she was in the room in case they went out. The shaking increased in intensity. Water sloshed from the toilets. The lights flickered, then went out. With her hand on the wall for orientation, she made her way to the door. Surely the emergency lights in the hall would be on.

  They weren’t. A ceiling beam had fallen and blocked the exit to the ballroom. She remembered the instructions from some long past school lecture and stood in the doorway. It was pitch black in front of her as well as behind. She could touch both sides of the doorway, so she decided to stay put, and started to sit down. Sliding her hand down the doorframe as a guide, it reached the bottom and felt water. So much for that. She couldn’t sit.

  An explosion rocked the building as a ruptured gas line ignited. Anna was thrown back against the wall. A piece of the falling ceiling struck her on the head. On the verge of panic, she heard a soft voice say, “Follow me. I’ll show you the way. You can’t help them now.” She saw a woman in a long, flowing white dress.

  “How? I can’t see anything. It’s as black as a cave.” Then, off to her right, she saw a faint glow as the woman walked down the hall to her right.

  “Follow the light,” the soft voice said again.

  Her hand touching the wall, she stood, and moved slowly forward toward the only thing she could see, the pale glow surrounding the woman.

  The glow became brighter, but she still couldn’t see the end of the hall. The brilliance of the light was far greater than she had ever seen. “Don’t be afraid,” the voice said. “You’re near the end, and I am with you.”

  I’m dying. There’s no pain. Can you die without pain? Lord, let mom and dad know I didn’t suffer. I should have died when the train hit the bus. I knew it.

  “My work here isn’t finished and this is where I leave you. Go through the door. All will be well.” The glow and the woman vanished, leaving her in the stygian blackness.

  Anna felt for a knob, found it and turned it. She pushed against the knob and the door swung open easily. She stepped through and looked to her left… and fainted.

  The water from the damp cloth on her forehead ran into her hair. Where am I?”

  “You’re in my office. I’m Doctor Carter Palmer; this is my wife, Elizabeth. Do you know what happened to you?”

  “I was in the Ladies Room and everything started shaking. I guess it was an earthquake. I waited until it stopped. It was black and I couldn’t see. The normal way out was blocked and someone led me out another way. I went out through the door and looked around. That’s all I remember.”

  “You were found at the end of an alley and they brought you to my office.”

  “Why didn’t they take me to the ER?” she asked.

  “I don’t understand,” Carter said.

  “The emergency room at the hospital, in the ambulance.”

  “Miss… excuse me, I don’t even know your name.”

  “I’m Anna Reeves.”

  “Anna, there is no hospital in Helena. I’m the only doctor in town.”

  Panic filled her face. “I was born in the hospital in Helena. They fixed my broken wrist there. I don’t know what’s going on. Call my mother and dad right now or I’ll call the police.”

  “Miss Reeves, I’ll send someone for your parents,” Carter assured her. “I’ll send for the sheriff if you like. We don’t have a police department.”

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Susan Leigh Carlton lives just outside Tomball, Texas, a suburb twenty-six miles northwest of Houston. She began writing and publishing on Amazon in August of 2012.

  Susan observed the eighty-second anniversary of her birth on April 17th. She says, “I quit having birthdays, because they are depressing.” Susan and her husband celebrated their fiftieth wedding anniversary on April 16th, 2016, the day before her birthday.

  Susan has said many times, “One of the joys I get from writing is the emails I receive from readers that have read and liked my books. I even like the letters that are critical of the writing because it means the writer cared enough to take the time to write.

  Visit my website at www.susanleighcarlton.com and sign up to receive advance copies of the first chapter when I start a new book.

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