Wagon Train Wedding

by Rhonda Gibson

  “You better hurry, Flynn! You’re gonna be late for your own wedding,” Bob Blackstock called from the sidelines, garnering a few snickers from the men around him.

  Flynn ignored Bob. He straightened his back and walked to where Cora stood. Her cheeks were flushed as she looked up at him.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  He handed the flowers to her and leaned down and whispered so that only she could make out his words. “Don’t worry. I’m sure you didn’t plan all this.” Flynn placed a light kiss on her cheek before standing.

  “You’re supposed to wait until you’re hitched before the kissing begins!” another male voice called out, followed by an “umph.”

  Flynn hoped that the last sound came due to the rude commenter’s wife putting an elbow in his ribs. He ignored the laughter that followed and turned to the minister.

  Taking his cue, the minister began. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to unite this man and this woman in holy matrimony.”

  Flynn glanced sideways at Cora, who stood with the flowers held steady in front of her and her head high. He wondered if her insides were shaking as badly as his. Was she questioning her decision to marry him?

  As if she felt him gazing at her, Cora turned to look at him. Her hair was piled high on her head. Ringlets framed her face. Her brows furrowed and big brown eyes clung to his, analyzing his reaction. Her gaze was penetrating, searching—and unrelenting. She almost seemed to be challenging him to be the man she needed him to be—one she could rely on and trust. One who would soothe those fears he still saw lingering in her eyes, nearly hidden behind her strength and resolution.

  What was she afraid of? Him? Their future together? That he would not keep his word and set her free at the end of their journey?

  Flynn didn’t know and there was no way he could ask her now. The preacher’s voice droned on in the background. Silently, he tried to convey to her with his eyes that he would protect her and Noah with everything he had in him. If she would let him, he would wipe away Cora’s fears and make the trip to Oregon safe for her and Noah.

  Then Flynn asked himself, could he live up to those promises? If Miriam’s killer was on this wagon train, would Cora be safe? Would any of them?

  * * *

  Cora sighed as she put the baby down to sleep for the night. Thankfully, their wedding had gone smoothly. Flynn had turned her from the prying eyes of the rest of the wagon train and gently tilted her head and kissed her cheek. Then he’d released her so that they could turn and greet their well-wishers. As the crowd of people pressed forward, he’d kept her close to his side with a protective hand. Following that, they had all quickly finished lunch before returning to their wagon and the Oregon Trail once more.

  Now that they were stopped for the night, dinner had been eaten and babies put to bed, she could hear the fiddle playing a merry jig and knew Flynn waited in the firelight for her to join him for their first dance. Why had she agreed to attend the festivities? Her body ached along with her heart. She missed Gracie so much. Cora knew it was expected of her to celebrate her wedding; that was the only reason she had agreed. Still, it would have been nice just to curl up on the sleeping mat she had created earlier for her and Noah. It had been such a wearying day—and she felt so distant from the woman she had been just one day before.

  “Is the baby asleep? Joe’s sister Martha has offered to watch him.”

  She turned and looked at Flynn. He looked as tired as she felt. Was the stress of the day weighing heavily on him, too? Cora offered what she hoped was a sweet smile. “He’s just dozed off. Would you mind if I stay with him for a few moments longer? I want to make sure he’s sleeping soundly before leaving him.”

  The wagon shifted as Flynn pulled himself up into it. “I think that’s a good idea. I wish we could join him.” He looked down at the baby, who had two fingers between his bow-shaped lips.

  Cora yawned. “Me, too. This has been a long day.”

  “You know, you don’t have to come to the dance. I can make your excuses.” Flynn squatted beside the baby. “He really is a cute little tyke.”

  She smiled. “He is, isn’t he?”

  Flynn studied her face as if seeing it for the first time. She recognized the questions in his eyes. He wanted to know about Noah’s father, wanted to ask why she was so insistent on coming with the wagon train. And the biggest question of all—could he trust her?

  Cora wasn’t ready to answer the unspoken questions. She searched her tired mind for something else to talk about. She realized she had not thanked Flynn for bringing her with him. Cora broke eye contact with him by reaching for the baby’s blanket and covering him up. With her eyes on Noah, it was easier to speak. “Thank you, Flynn, for rescuing us and marrying me today. I know that wasn’t what you had planned when you woke up this morning, but I don’t know what I would have done otherwise.”

  When he did not reply, she continued, “We should get to that dance. I would hate to disappoint the ladies who helped me get ready for our wedding. They all seemed so excited about joining us for our first dance.” She turned her head and moved closer to him. “You do know how to dance, don’t you?”

  A smile touched his lips and a dimple in his right cheek made an appearance. “Do I know how to dance?”

  She chuckled. “That’s the question.”

  Flynn took her by the hand. “Come on and I’ll show you.”

  Cora tiptoed across to the wagon gate with Flynn. They were careful not to jostle the wagon. She realized that she wanted Noah to stay asleep because suddenly she felt like dancing with her new husband. Cora had to admit that she liked his lighthearted joking.

  Flynn jumped to the ground, then turned to help her down. As soon as her feet touched the ground, Cora withdrew from his hold and turned toward the music. Her skin still tingled from where he’d held her hands.

  “Mrs. Adams, I’ll take good care of the baby while you are gone,” Martha said, climbing into the wagon.

  “Thank you, Martha. I’m sure he’ll be fine.” Cora hoped the baby would continue to sleep. She knew very little about her nephew and even less about his sleep patterns.

  Flynn extended his elbow and smiled down at her. “Ready?”

  She placed her hand in the crook of his elbow. From the sounds coming from the dance floor, everyone was already enjoying themselves.

  They walked to the sidelines and stopped. Cora saw several young couples dancing merrily, along with a few older men who had no trouble keeping up with the fast beat. Their smiles and laughter were contagious, and she found her face stretching into a smile, as well.

  The beat slowed and everyone moved to the sidelines.

  Joe called from across the way. “We’ve been waiting for you to lead us in the first slow dance.”

  Flynn placed a hand on Cora’s back. “Ready?”

  She swallowed. Dancing was not her strong point, nor was she comfortable with having every eye on her. Gracie had been the outgoing twin, not her. She shifted from foot to foot. Taking a deep, unsteady breath, she stepped forward.

  They walked to the center of the circle of people and faced each other. Music filled the night air, slow and sweet. Flynn gently took her into his arms, and they moved in unison around the dirt dance floor. Cora felt like she was floating. After several moments, others joined them.

  Her husband whispered against her ear, making a shiver run down her spine. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  She raised her eyes to find him watching her. His breath fanned the hair on her forehead, making her aware of just how close they were. “No.” Her voice came out in a whisper. “Not bad at all. In fact, I quite like dancing.”

  Flynn chuckled and stood straight once more. He expertly turned her into a dip, causing a tingling in the pit of her stomach that had nothing to do with lack of balance. His gaze was as soft as a care
ss. They both remained motionless for a moment. Then he seemed to collect himself and brought her back into the circle of his arm. He pulled her closer to him and she felt the deep breath he inhaled. So she wasn’t alone in feeling the electricity between them. But how could that be? They’d just met earlier this morning. She remembered her mother saying she fell in love with their dad at first sight, but she had never believed in it herself. Whatever this was between her and Flynn wasn’t love—couldn’t be. They were both overtired and that was the reason they were feeling romantic. That and the fact that they had just gotten married.

  He inclined his forehead and touched it to hers. She tilted her chin up and his warm breath mingled with hers. “Cora?”

  “Yes, Flynn?”

  “I promise to care for you and keep you and Noah safe.”

  The intensity in his lowered voice and the security of his arms had an indefinable feeling of rightness.

  Chapter Four

  Flynn listened to the baby’s soft cries and the soothing sound of Cora’s voice as she attempted to comfort him. Noah had woken when they arrived back after their dance. Sadly, the baby had not settled down yet, despite crying for nigh to an hour. The music continued in the distance. He could make out Martha and a young man dancing. He’d seen them earlier and wondered if there was a relationship brewing. She had looked at the young man with so much joy on her face. Such a contrast to Cora, who carried such sorrow in her eyes. She must have loved Noah’s father very much to be grieving so hard for him. Only for a moment had he seen the flush of happiness on her face—when they’d danced together. He wondered when or if he’d see it again.

  Mrs. Philmore stepped out of the darkness. “He’s not settling down, is he?”

  Flynn stood taller. “No, ma’am.”

  She made a soft tsking sound. “He’s probably fussy because of all the changes.” She held out her hand. “Here, this might soothe him some.”

  Flynn accepted the small, cone-shaped item. He brought it closer to his face. The fabric covering it was thin, but he couldn’t quite tell what was inside. Mrs. Philmore had tied the top with some sort of twine. “What is it?”

  The smile lines around her bright blue eyes crinkled up as she grinned. “We call it a sugar treat.”

  “It has sugar in it?” Flynn frowned, unsure what it was for. “Um, what am I supposed to do with it?”

  Mrs. Philmore laughed and shook her head. “It’s for the baby. Tell Cora to chew on the end and get it damp enough for the boy to suck on.”

  He must have wrinkled his nose or shown some other sign of disgust, because she laughed harder than she had before. “It’s perfectly natural, Mr. Adams, for mothers to soften things for their children. The sweet will calm the baby down and then you’ll be able to get some rest tonight. You have a lot to learn as a new father.” She shook her head and started to walk away, then stopped. “Oh, and just in case she’s never used one before, tell her to make sure not to let the lad keep it in his mouth after he’s asleep.”

  Flynn nodded. “Thank you, Mrs. Philmore.”

  She nodded and then continued back to her own wagon.

  Flynn pulled himself up into the wagon. It shifted slightly under his weight. Cora’s troubled gaze met his. He held out the sweet for her to take. “Mrs. Philmore brought this. She says it will help the baby sleep.” He still didn’t see how giving a baby sugar would help it sleep but prayed it would be effective. Both he and Cora needed to sleep.

  Cora took it and turned it over in her free hand. She clutched the baby in her other arm. “What is it?”

  Flynn felt his face scrunch up as he said, “She called it—” he paused “—a sugar treat.”

  “Oh, I heard a couple ladies talking about making them one day at the general store.” Cora stuck the tip between her lips. A smile touched her lips after she pulled it out. “Would you get me a little water in the bottom of the dipper?”

  “She said you’re supposed to chew on the tip until it’s damp,” he explained, happy that he knew something she didn’t.

  Cora nodded. “I know, but it will be faster to wet the end.”

  Noah shrieked at the top of his lungs, setting Flynn into action. He hurried out the back of the wagon to the water barrel and grabbed the dipper. Flynn’s heart pounded in his chest at the child’s obvious distress. He filled the bottom of the oversize spoon and then climbed back inside. He held the water out to Cora, who dipped in the end of the cone.

  She rocked and cooed to Noah. Then when he opened his mouth to let out another bloodcurdling scream, she slipped the sweet treat inside. A single drop of water dripped from its tip onto the infant’s tongue.

  For a moment, Flynn held his breath and silently prayed the baby would understand and stop his howling. Noah opened his little eyes and met Flynn’s gaze. He closed his lips around the sugar treat and sucked greedily, his lips smacking. Flynn released the air from his lungs and grinned at Cora. “It worked.”

  Cora’s shoulders relaxed and she cradled the baby close to her body. “Thank the Lord.”

  “Mrs. Philmore said that will help him nod off but not to let him keep it in his mouth once he’s sleeping.” Flynn watched as Noah’s little eyes began to drift shut as if to confirm the older woman’s words.

  “Flynn?”

  He turned his attention to her. “Yes?”

  She ran her fingers across the baby’s forehead. “Do you think we can get a milk cow at the first fort?”

  Flynn shrugged. “Maybe. Why?”

  “He needs milk.” She kept her head bowed and didn’t look up. Whether she was embarrassed or ashamed, he couldn’t tell.

  “How did you feed him today?” Flynn asked, painfully aware they were talking about a sensitive subject. He didn’t dare ask why she needed outside means to feed her baby.

  “I had a glass jar with milk inside. But it’s empty now.” Her voice sounded as if she were about to cry.

  Flynn swallowed. Like most men, he hated to see a woman cry. He considered for a moment, then asked, “Have you thought about asking one of the other young mothers to help us, until we get to Fort Laramie?”

  “I’ve thought about it but...” Her voice cut off and she didn’t seem to be able to get out any more words.

  He laid a soothing hand on her shoulder. “Maybe Mrs. Philmore can help us with this problem, too. You can ask her first thing in the morning. Until then, why don’t you lie down with the baby and get some rest? This has been a long day for all of us.”

  Cora looked up at him. Her eyes swam with unshed tears. “Thank you, Flynn. I don’t know what I would have done without you today.”

  Flynn merely nodded and hurried to leave. He scooped up his bedroll and climbed out the back of the wagon. The weight of the day rested heavily on him as he spread the bedroll under the wagon. Crickets and other insects sang as the camped wagons settled in for the night. What had he done? How had the direction of his life changed so drastically? And why wasn’t he more upset about that? His focus should be on finding a killer, not on buying a cow so a baby who wasn’t even his would have milk.

  * * *

  Inside the wagon, Cora was hoping and praying that Flynn wasn’t plagued with the uncertainties she felt herself. Approaching Flynn about her inability to give the baby milk had scared her spitless. What must he be thinking? Had he figured out that Noah wasn’t her child? Why else would she not be breastfeeding the baby?

  Cora wished for her soft bed as she lay down on the hard wooden floor of the prairie schooner. The baby made a sucking sound against his small fist. She closed her eyes in order to silently pray and ask the good Lord above to supply a means of feeding the baby. She would try him on small pieces of mashed-up egg in the morning with a bit of mush. Hopefully that might hold him till milk could be found. She’d seen her sister popping little bits of different types of food in his mouth when he was barely s
ix months old, so it wasn’t like he’d never tasted solid food—but she didn’t know for sure what he’d had and what was safe for him. So many things she’d need to learn about Noah; and what about herself? She’d only ever worked at teaching. Could she handle all the tasks expected of a wife till they arrived in Oregon? Would she always feel this tired at the end of the day?

  The wagon jerked, waking Cora from a sound sleep. She looked about in confusion, certain that no more than a few minutes had passed. Why were they leaving in the middle of the night? Noah continued to sleep on her chest, sucking his small fist.

  She eased into a sitting position, keeping the child cradled against her. The sounds of men calling to their animals and women’s voices carried on the breeze. Cora looked through the wagon’s entry and could see sunlight through the tarp flap. Her gaze swung to where Flynn had retrieved his bedroll the night before. It rested against the pile of blankets. How long had she and the baby slept?

  Her hand flew to her lips and she gasped. What about breakfast and breaking camp? Had Flynn gone without rather than wake her and the baby? Heat filled her face. Had the other women noticed how lazy she had been? That she hadn’t taken care of her campsite or new husband? Were they talking about her right now?

  Noah squirmed against her. She gently laid him down and swaddled him tightly into a soft blanket. Then Cora finger-combed her hair. Once she had her hair up in a light bun, she stuck her head through the wagon slit and found Flynn driving the oxen.

  He glanced her way. “I’m sorry. I had hoped you would be able to rest a little longer.” He scooted over on the seat and motioned for her to join him.

  Cora awkwardly climbed onto the seat beside him. “Thank you, but the wagon isn’t conducive to sleeping when it’s moving. I wish you had awakened me earlier. I could have fixed you and Joe breakfast.”

  Flynn leaned over until their shoulders touched. “You and Noah had a rough night. Besides, Joe brought me over a hot biscuit with fried bacon in it.” He grinned at the sound of her stomach growling in response to his description of the breakfast he had enjoyed.