“Two years. I left shortly after Miriam’s death.” The older man focused on the oxen.
Flynn felt the loss of his fiancée again. It wasn’t the heartbreaking hurt of two years ago. No, it was more a feeling of guilt. He didn’t want to dwell on those feelings. “Did you retire from doctoring?”
“For a year or so, I did. I lost my drive. Lost my will to heal.” He looked at Flynn. “You know, a doctor has a calling, much like a preacher. It has to motivate you above all else. You know...that Hippocratic oath and all.” He slapped the reins calmly across the oxen to speed them up a bit. “For a while now, I’ve been itching to start up again, and when I ran into an old friend in the saloon, he suggested I make a fresh start in Oregon. Well, I thought on it, rolled it round in my noggin a few minutes, then decided that Oregon is as good a place as any to open a new practice. And then when that friend backed out just as Clarkson found he needed another man, it seemed like everything fell into place like it was meant to be.”
A new start. Wasn’t that what most of the people on this trip were looking for? Why not a doctor? “I believe you’re right that Oregon will be a good place for all these people to start a new life.” Flynn glanced back at his own wagon. Mrs. Edwards was looking for a fresh start. He realized he probably needed to learn her given name before they got married.
The thought unsettled him, slightly. After Miriam’s death, he’d vowed never to marry. But in a few hours, he would marry a woman he knew nothing about, save the fact that she was a widow and had a small child. She was also beautiful, with big brown eyes and a plump mouth that curved lovingly when she kissed her baby’s head. Flynn knew he was helping her to escape from Independence, but he was also using her to make sure no one suspected he was a lawman.
“What are you doing on this trail? Still looking for Miriam’s killer?” Doc asked as he arched a bushy, graying eyebrow.
Despite their friendship, Flynn felt it was best to stick to the cover story he’d prepared. After all, you could never be sure who might be listening. Even though they were sitting on the wagon, their voices could be carried on the wind or anyone could be walking beside the wagon at any given time. “I’m looking for a new beginning, too, Doc. As you can see, I’m not wearing the badge any longer. I guess you heard I’m getting married here in a few hours.” It wasn’t a lie: the sheriff’s badge was in his pocket, not on his vest as it had been in the old days. His deputy had been keeping his town safe, but soon they’d want him to return. Even he had to admit two years was a long time to be gone.
The doctor chuckled. “Sure did.” He slapped the reins across the oxen’s backs. “Not sure it’s a love match, though. I was here when you proposed and then sneaked to the back of your wagon to persuade the soon-to-be bride to marry you.”
“Aw, she’s a pretty little thing. I have had my eyes on her since early this morning.” Again, he wasn’t lying. He had seen her several times.
Dr. Shipman looked up at the sun. “So, about three hours ago?”
Flynn laughed. “I reckon about that long. Long enough to know she needed me, and I need her.”
“I hope you find the happiness you deserve, Flynn.” The doctor bumped shoulders with Flynn. “Maybe Oregon is just what we both need to get on with our lives.”
Was it? Would Oregon give Flynn the peace he had been asking for from God? Did a man ever truly get over the losses in his life? Especially when it was a love loss. As Flynn examined his life, he realized for the first time in two years he felt an excitement about what his future would hold. Maybe it was hope. Not because of the marriage per se, but because he soon would put his fiancée’s murder behind him. To let go of all the focus he’d put on one single thing for such a long time would be a mighty change, indeed. He shrugged his shoulders, lifting and twisting, and it was then he realized his load had lightened somewhat. The heaviness that usually settled in his neck had lessened. A new beginning. Something new to experience. To look forward with eagerness to what was offered. Yes, Dr. Shipman had said it well... It was time to get on with their lives.
Chapter Three
News traveled fast on the wagon train. Any thoughts of having a simple, quiet wedding floated away on the noonday breeze as Cora stepped down from the wagon bed and into the midst of five women. “Um, hello, ladies.”
Flynn rode around the back of the wagon. “Ladies.” He tipped his hat at them from atop his horse.
“Mrs. Edwards,” one of the women said, stepping forward. “I know you don’t know any of us, but we’re going to be spending the next five months together, and well, we would like to help you with your wedding.” The woman was tall, with blond hair and blue eyes. She looked to be about thirty years old. When she smiled, Cora could see the wide gap between her front teeth.
Cora offered what she hoped was a friendly smile. “I appreciate—”
“See? I told you she wouldn’t mind, Sarah. You always make too much of everything.” The gap-toothed woman waved her hand in the direction of another woman, who Cora guessed to be about ten years older than Cora’s own twenty years.
Sarah stepped forward. “Mrs. Edwards, please forgive my sister Abigail’s rudeness.” She stared at her sister for a full half minute before returning her attention to Cora. “My name is Sarah Philmore. I am Joe’s mother, and this—” she waved in the direction of her sister “—is Mrs. Abigail Moore, my baby sister. She means well, but Pa always said Abbie is like a bull in a china closet. She always charges into every situation headfirst—and she has no filter. Whatever comes up comes out.”
Cora couldn’t help but smile at the expressions on the sisters’ faces. How many times had she and Gracie acted the same way? Gracie being the impulsive one and Cora the more restrained. “It’s all right. I’m sure Mrs. Moore meant no harm.”
“My friends call me Abbie. Sarah only calls me Abigail when I’m right.” She wrinkled her nose at her sister, daring her to argue with her further.
Sarah chose to ignore her sister and pointed to a woman in her forties. “This is Mrs. Mable Young.”
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Young.” Cora felt overwhelmed as the ladies smiled at her.
“Please, call me Mable.” She twisted her apron in her hands.
Sarah continued with the introductions. “Beside Mable is Mrs. Ella Blackstock and Mrs. Opal Murphy.”
Cora smiled at them, wishing they’d tell her what they wanted to do so that they could get on with it. Butterflies filled her stomach and doubts swirled in her mind. Was she doing the right thing for Noah, for herself? “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Blackstock and Mrs. Murphy.”
Both women responded, “It’s nice to meet you, too.”
Mrs. Blackstock pushed her bonnet back, revealing black hair. “Please, call me Ella.”
Mrs. Murphy nodded. “And I’m Opal. We decided not to be formal on the trail.” Opal’s wrinkled face broke into a smile. “We’re going to need each other, and formality isn’t going to make us feel comfortable.”
Cora nodded. She hadn’t thought about making friends on the trail—but it was nice to feel a little less alone. There were so many things that she hadn’t thought of, and she knew there were many things that she would think of later. It would be useful to have support and people she could turn to for help. “Then you ladies need to call me Cora.” She glanced up and saw Flynn smile before turning his horse away. Had he stuck around to protect her? Or just to see how she would handle herself with the women? Either way, he seemed pleased by how things were going. And for some reason, Cora felt good about that.
“I brought you a necklace to wear. If you already have jewelry you planned to wear, I understand.” Ella handed her the simple chain with a clear teardrop-shaped stone.
Cora touched the stone. “It’s beautiful. Thank you, Ella. I would love to wear it.”
“I brought you something also.” Abbie held up a cream-colored ribbon.
“If we pull your hair up, we can weave it about the bun.”
The bun? Cora smiled. “That sounds beautiful.” She honestly had no idea how it would look, but she wanted to be polite.
“I’ve brought you something that my grandmother gave me.” Opal took a thimble from her pocket. She extended it out to Cora.
Cora took it, admiring the short thimble that was blackened with age. “Thank you, Opal. It looks very old.”
Opal’s eyes rested on the thimble, seriousness lining her face. “It is. It belonged to my grandmother’s mother.” She raised her gaze to Cora’s. “My grandmother told me that a thimble protects a woman’s fingers as she pushes a sharp needle through material, which is just what a husband does for his wife. He protects her from the sharp things in life.”
Cora nodded. “But there is more, isn’t there?” She knew instinctively that there was more.
Opal smiled. “The thimble also allows the user to create something beautiful. Grams said when we get married it is like sewing a beautiful quilt or dress. We build a family, and if we allow our husbands to protect us, then we create a beautiful life for ourselves, our children and the man we love.”
Cora closed her hand over the thimble. “Thank you. I’ll make sure you get this back.”
Sarah stepped forward. “Well, my gift is something I’ve made but haven’t worn.” She held up a dress. It was light purple with small white flowers. “I think it will fit you if you want to wear it.” She smiled.
Cora looked to each woman. Joy shone in their eyes, knowing that they were going to be a part of her special day. “I don’t know what to say, other than thank you.” She reached out and touched the dress. What would these women think if they knew this was a marriage of convenience? She dropped her hand from the dress. “I’m not sure I should use these things. Flynn and I were just going to have a simple wedding.”
Opal touched her arm. “We know that this isn’t a love match, Cora. Lots of women have married out of necessity or because their parents arranged the marriage. But that doesn’t mean love can’t blossom between you. Give your marriage a chance. You may find that Flynn is the perfect man for you and your little boy.”
Cora didn’t want a marriage without love. But she also knew that love came with ties. And sometimes it even came with ties that bound, and not in a good, loving way. Gracie had paid the price for loving Hank. She had allowed him to ruin her life and then cause her death. That was not going to happen to Cora. She wouldn’t let it. Not when Noah needed her. Flynn might not be Hank, but how would she know? Cora felt sure her sister hadn’t expected Hank to turn into the man that he was today. Instead of sharing those thoughts and feelings with the other women, Cora simply nodded and smiled.
Ella said, “The other ladies on the train are preparing a meal for everyone to share after the ceremony. It will be simple but good.”
Her chest tightened as Cora realized that these women were offering friendship in the only ways they knew how, through gifts and food. Too surprised to do more than nod and offer a brief “Thank you all” at such open kindness, Cora gave each lady a brief hug. She hoped that expressed to them what their thoughtfulness meant to her.
Sarah tucked Cora’s hand inside her arm and said, “Come on. Let’s get you ready for your wedding.”
“Wait! Noah is taking a nap. I can’t...”
“Don’t worry about him. My daughter Martha has agreed to look after him. My youngest is about the same age, and Martha watches him all the time. I think the children will get along just fine once your baby wakes from his nap.” Sarah patted her hand, nodding toward a tall young woman standing at the tailgate of the wagon. Cora guessed that Martha might be somewhere between sixteen and eighteen years old.
Martha inclined her head. “I love babies. I’ll take good care of him for you.”
Cora didn’t want to leave Noah but felt uncertain how to turn down the women’s generosity without hurting their feelings. Eventually, she smiled in agreement, but was quick to say to Martha, “Please, come get me the moment he wakes up.”
“I will,” Martha promised. She pulled herself up into the bed of the wagon and grinned down at Cora. “He’s such a darling little thing.”
“He is that.” Cora felt her worry lessen as she watched the adoring look light in Martha’s eyes.
The women tugged her around the wagon and away from baby Noah. Things were changing so fast in her life. Last night, she was planning a test for her students; this morning, she’d said goodbye to her sister and had taken on custody of her nephew. Now here she was, about to promise to be a wife to a stranger. Could things get any more catawampus? How had she lost all control over her own life? What in the world would she face next? Should she admit to herself that a tiny bit of excitement stirred in her breast at just the thoughts of the marriage she was about to begin?
* * *
Flynn walked about the prairie, picking the little purple, yellow and white flowers that covered the area. Every bride should have flowers on her wedding day. Once more, he asked himself if this had been a wise decision. He had not taken the time to pray about it; he had simply reacted. Would he regret this act? Flynn hoped not.
He bowed his head and prayed. “Lord, please bless this union. Help me to be a good husband, even if it is for a short time. Keep us safe as we travel to Oregon.” He thought about asking for help with catching Miriam’s killer but suppressed the thought. Over the last two years, he had asked for help more times than he could count. God’s answer had been to bless him with the patience and determination he’d needed to continue his search.
But for this, for his marriage, he could only hope the Lord would lead him to the right choices for himself and the wife and child who would be in his care for the next several months. He looked up at the clear blue sky. “Amen.”
The flowers held a soft, sweet scent. He continued to pick them until he had a large bouquet in his hands. He hoped his soon-to-be wife liked them. If so, he planned on keeping her in fresh flowers for as long as they were in season.
Flynn glanced toward the covered wagons that were now arranged in a circle. The animals were in the center of the circle. He could see children playing and women working over firepits that had been left behind by earlier wagon trains.
Joe leaped over a wagon tongue and came rushing toward him. He stopped short of running into Flynn. “The preacher says they are ready for you now,” the boy huffed.
Flynn’s heart accelerated. It was one thing to think about the wedding but another thing to actually say the words that would put them together as man and wife. He pulled his shoulders back and nodded. “Then I guess we shouldn’t keep them waiting.”
“Nope, I guess not,” Joe agreed. He walked alongside Flynn. “Do you really want to marry her?” he asked.
Did he? Flynn nodded. “I would not have asked her if I didn’t.”
“That’s good. I was worried that I had put you in a bad position with my interfering.” Joe pulled a blade of grass from the earth. “She sure is pretty.”
Flynn couldn’t argue with that. Cora had big brown eyes flecked with a ring of gold that were unlike anything he had ever seen. Since he’d met her, he’d seen them filled with some indefinable emotion. Maybe he’d learn what that was as they spent more time together.
Her long eyelashes curled up at the end, reminding him of a deer’s eyes. He had seen his fair share of deer. Their eyes were pretty but always filled with caution or panic, much like Cora’s had been earlier this morning. He gave an impatient shrug, pushing the thought away. It was just the lawman in him making assessments. There was no way he could name the emotions in Cora’s eyes after knowing her all of three hours.
“I’m glad you asked her to marry you.” Joe stuck the grass between his teeth.
He couldn’t imagine why Joe would care one way or the other. “And why is that?”
The boy’s cheeks flushed red before he admitted, “If you hadn’t, I was going to.”
“You like her that much?” Flynn asked. Would Joe’s infatuation become a problem?
Joe shrugged. “I don’t know her, and I don’t want to get married just yet, but I don’t think I could have left her in Independence. There’s something about her that makes me want to protect her and little Noah. I believe she’s scared of something or someone there.”
With a deliberately casual movement of his hand, Flynn managed to say offhandedly, “So you aren’t sweet on her?” He didn’t mind if it was just protectiveness that Joe was experiencing. He understood that feeling all too well. Hadn’t he offered to marry Cora for the same reason?
Joe laughed. “Naw. Ma says I am too young to be sweet on anyone. She said I need to make something of myself before I start getting all dewy-eyed over a lady.” They walked along in silence for a few moments more. “Besides, she’s too old for me. If I was going to go all dewy-eyed over a girl, it would be Ruby Harper. She’s the prettiest girl on the wagon train and she’s almost my age.” He cut his eyes at Flynn.
Flynn knew the boy expected a good ribbing, but he didn’t say anything. Joe would get enough of that from his family, no doubt.
Joe’s cheeks turned red, and he said, “I’ll go let them know you are on your way.”
“Thanks, Joe.” Flynn watched as the young man ran back to the wagon train. He walked faster himself. His and Cora’s wedding would be simple and to the point. At least, that was what he hoped. Who knew what the ladies had cooked up? With long, purposeful strides, he covered the distance between them.
He stepped over the wagon tongue and stopped short. Cora and the preacher stood in the center of the circle. It looked like the whole wagon train had turned out for the event. Kids sat on the dirt at their parents’ feet and all eyes were turned on him.
Wagon Train Wedding Page 4