by Linda Ford
“Thank you.” He scrambled to his feet and pulled her up beside him, holding her arm in his as they made their way back to the camp.
He went immediately to the back of their wagon, pulled out the tent and quickly set it up. Warren set up Judith’s tent at the same time.
Done, Luke asked, “Do you want to sleep in the tent or the back of the wagon? I’ll be nearby sleeping under the wagon.”
His assurance of being close should have brought a protest to her lips. Where were the words that she didn’t need him, nor want him? But there were no words. She put it down to being too weary to argue. “I tried the wagon. It wasn’t all that comfortable.” It rocked and banged over ruts. She knocked her elbow into the trunks several times. Even standing still, it would be too crowded for comfort. “Mary Mae and I will sleep in the tent.” She took her blankets from the wagon.
“Wait.” Luke went to the back of the Russell wagon and lifted out a buffalo fur. “This will cushion you.” He ducked inside the tent with it.
She wanted to protest. There was no point in her getting used to having him help. But to say anything would surely arouse curiosity in those around them so she kept still. “Thank you,” she murmured, when he backed out.
He paused close to her side to whisper. “Doesn’t hurt a bit to accept help, does it?” He strode away before she could answer, grabbed his bedroll and settled under the wagon.
“Donna Grace, go to bed,” he said.
She scurried into the tent and lay beside her sister.
“Did you have a nice walk?” Mary Mae asked in such an innocent voice that Donna Grace wasn’t sure if she was truly interested or wanting to tease.
“Yes, I did.”
Mary Mae giggled. “You both looked like a cat who’d been in the cream.”
“We did not.”
“Yes, you did. But that’s okay. After all, you are married. Newly married. Of course, you want time alone to do… well, what married people do.”
Donna Grace would not ask her sister to elaborate. “You have a very vivid imagination. Plus you always see things through wishful eyes.” She found Mary Mae’s hand and squeezed it. “Someday you will find the love you so desire. I know it.”
“How can you be so sure?” Mary Mae asked the same question Donna Grace and Luke had asked each other.
Donna Grace smiled. “How can you doubt it?”
The next morning, she sought out Mrs. Shepton after breakfast. The two woman walked side by side as the wagons began moving.
“How can I help you, my dear?”
Donna Grace explained her frequent cramps. “I call them Charlie horses.” She smiled as she recalled Luke saying he didn’t like Charlie and his horses.
Mrs. Shepton asked several questions as to when they occurred, and how severe they were. “They could be something as simple as your muscles complaining about the load you’re carrying and the amount of walking you’re doing.” She chuckled. “Even when you’re riding in the wagon, the constant jarring puts a strain on your muscles.” Her expression sobered. “Or it could be false labor.” She stopped and held her hands out toward Donna Grace’s stomach. “May I feel the baby?”
Donna Grace nodded.
Mrs. Shepton’s hands were firm, yet gentle. The baby kicked hard. Mrs. Shepton chuckled. “He’s strong. I could tell more if you were lying down, but your baby is big. I think you are closer to your delivery time than you think.”
Donna Grace blinked back tears. “I want my baby born in a real home.”
“Child, your baby isn’t going to know the difference.”
Donna Grace realized she cradled her arms the way Luke had shown her. Her gaze found him. He watched them, though the distance was too great for either of them to see the other’s eyes clearly. She nodded. He was right. Her baby would find what it needed right here in her arms.
Even so, she still hoped to make it to Santa Fe. She recalled words from the hymn Luke sang for her. Frail children of dust and feeble as frail. In thee do we trust, nor find thee to fail.
She had given up trusting God some time ago. Perhaps around the time Grandfather Ramos tried to make her go to his church and renounce the things her father and mother had taught her. Maybe it was time, for the sake of her unborn baby, to start trusting God again.
She thanked Mrs. Shepton and hurried toward the wagon. Luke stopped long enough to help her up to the hard bench.
He noticed the way she eyed the plank of wood and reached back and got a cushion. “Try this.”
She sat on it.
“Better?”
“Much. Where did you find that?”
He waggled his eyebrows. “I have my way of getting things done for my wife.”
She should protest the claiming way he said that, but she didn’t. Nor would she admit she rather liked the way it made her feel.
“What did Mrs. Shepton have to say?” he asked.
She told him.
“Are you ready if the baby should come before you get to Santa Fe?”
“I believe so. And Mrs. Shepton assured me she has everything needed.” She lifted one shoulder. “I’m not the first person to birth a baby.”
He laughed. “Nor the last I would hope.”
She laughed and then turned to him.
“What is it?”
His quick assessment of her need surprised and pleased her.
“That song you sing?”
He sang the first line to indicate he understood what she meant.
“Could you sing it for me again?”
He did so, holding her gaze throughout the entire time.
“‘In thee do we trust, nor find thee to fail.’ I want to have that kind of faith.” Her voice caught with longing.
“Then I believe you do.”
She blinked. “Just like that?”
“What else is necessary? You trust or you don’t, and by saying you want to, aren’t you?”
“Luke, is everything so simple and plain for you?”
He considered her question for several minutes. “Right now it is.” His look informed her she had something to do with his answer.
She couldn’t think how that could be. Much of her life, she had heard how she complicated things for others. How could it be different with Luke?
Luke had to remind himself more and more frequently that his role in this relationship was temporary and mainly for show. But how could he pretend his heart didn’t slam into his chest when he saw Donna Grace fall to her knees, groaning? How could he ignore her pain and distress? Not offer her comfort? He couldn’t, and in doing so, he wavered on the brink of a line he didn’t want to cross. He wanted to protect her, but not open his heart to the pain that caring would surely bring.
Besides, caring was not part of the agreement between them.
He watched as she considered his words that trust was as simple as saying she wanted it.
She pressed her hand to her stomach and looking into the distance, smiled as if anticipating a new home at their destination.
Her serenity pulled at some deep longing in him. It took a moment to recognize it as his long-ago dream of home and family. He thought of the letter in his saddlebag in the Russell wagon. It was from an acquaintance who had headed to California some time ago. There is land here aplenty. Great for cattle. You couldn’t find a better place to start ranching if you’re still interested. But going back to the land meant going back to his dream. His dream was dead.
“Luke?”
Donna Grace’s voice brought him from his troubled thoughts.
“Would you be embarrassed if I let you feel the baby?” She patted her stomach to indicate what she meant.
He’d watched Mrs. Shepton pressing her hands to Donna Grace’s tummy and wondered what she felt. “Not if you aren’t.”
“I want you to feel this.” She took his hand and placed it palm-down on her belly.
The firmness of it surprised him. He’d expected it to be soft.
“Do you
feel that?”
“Is that the baby kicking?”
She nodded, her eyes glowing. “He’s strong, isn’t he?”
“Maybe it’s a girl.”
“It doesn’t matter to me either way.”
He couldn’t look away from the intensity of her gaze, full of love and promise. It sucked at him, making him want to be a part of what she felt.
“You want to feel more?” At his nod, she added. “Sing again.”
He did so and what he could only think were little feet, fluttered against his palm. He laughed. “What’s he doing?”
“Maybe it’s a girl.”
He laughed again at the way she imitated him, her face alive with teasing and something more… something he couldn’t name. It made him think she had opened her heart and invited him in. He knew he should think twice about that idea, but she answered his question at that moment, distracting him.
“The baby likes to hear you sing.”
Their gazes went on and on, the mules proceeding down the trail without any guidance from Luke. It was as if her heart was wide open.
His wasn’t and he withdrew his hand and turned his attention back to the task of driving the wagon. “It’s nice the baby likes my singing. But perhaps you are only imagining it.”
“I’m not.”
He didn’t want to argue with her any more than he wanted to be pleased that she thought the baby responded positively to his singing.
She settled back, seemingly content.
He did not feel calm and stared hard at the trail ahead. They were in the lead today and he suddenly pulled back on the reins and stared at a muddy draw.
Buck sat on horseback eyeing the spot. “It’s not deep.” The mud on his horse’s legs came to its knees.
Plenty deep in Luke’s estimation. And he said so.
Buck shook his head. “Sorry. There’s no way around it for miles. We’ll have to cross it but by the time the last of the wagons crosses, it will likely be a sinkhole.” He waved Luke forward.
Mud spattered up from the heels of the mules and the turning of the wheels. With a final slurp they reached the other side and climbed up the slope. He continued onward a hundred yards, then stopped. “I’ll have to see to the other wagons.”
Warren pulled up beside him with the Russell wagon, and jumped to the ground. The two of them hurried back to the mud hole.
The first ten wagons made it across easily enough, the teamsters driving the oxen with whips.
Each succeeding wagon struggled more, the wheels sinking deeper and deeper.
“Three wagons left to go.” Luke hadn’t realized the women stood nearby watching, until Donna Grace spoke.
“Will they make it?”
“They’ll make it.” They would not abandon three heavily-laden wagons.
The first stuck in the mud. The teamster drove the animals mercilessly, the air as foul with curses as the mud beneath the hooves of the oxen.
Slowly, with a slurping sound, the wagon inched forward. Everyone cheered as it climbed to dry ground.
The second wagon likewise inched through the quagmire.
The third one settled into the mud hole and refused to move despite every effort.
“What are they going to do?” Donna Grace asked.
Luke answered her question. “They’ll use a second team.” Already, rested oxeen were being unhitched. It took time to get the second team in place, but eventually the animals strained together. At first, it looked impossible; then the wheels turned. Inch by inch the wagon crept forward to the grassy bank.
All the wagons were safely across. Men and animals were mud-crusted.
“Let’s get on the trail,” Buck called. Luke and Donna Grace hurried back to their wagon. He helped Donna Grace up, then paused to brush off the mud that had mostly dried.
They traveled onward until Buck called out, “We’ll noon here.”
The weary animals needed the rest, and were turned out to graze and drink from the nearby stream. Most of the men cleaned up in the stream as well. Then, as soon as they’d eaten, they stretched out for a rest.
Luke and Warren did the same. Luke pulled his hat low over his eyes and turned his head so he could watch Donna Grace. She rubbed her back often when she thought no one was looking. But she conscientiously did her share of the chores. The three women talked softly as they worked. He wished he could hear what they said. His eyelids drooped and he blinked them open to see Donna Grace watching him, unaware that he saw her.
A tiny smile curved her lips as she pressed her palm to her belly.
That claiming motion and her insistence that the baby responded to his voice, brought an answering smile to his mouth.
They settled into a routine over the next few days as the prairie rolled on mile after endless mile. Donna Grace alternately rode in the wagon or walked with the others.
He hadn’t seen her bend over with a Charlie horse the last two days. “No more cramps?” he asked.
“Mrs. Shepton was right. My muscles were simply getting used to all the walking.”
“That’s a relief.” Though how she could move with that heavy stomach, beat him. Of course it was more of a waddle than a walk, but he refrained from saying so to her.
They traveled beside a creek, with steep banks covered with trees and undergrowth.
Donna Grace looked that direction. “Might there be berries?”
“In the summer the bushes are laden with raspberries and gooseberries. There could still be some, I suppose.”
“Let me off.”
She would have jumped down as soon as he stopped, but he told her to wait and went round to help. She called out for Mrs. Shepton and Judith to join her. Mary Mae and little Polly heard and hurried toward them.
“Be careful,” Luke called, but she and the others didn’t hear him as they scurried toward the banks. He held his breath as he watched her descend, clinging to bushes to keep from sliding down the steep slope. And then she was out of sight.
“Be careful,” he said, for his own benefit. He would have slowed the wagon, stopped even, but Buck rode by and gave him a hard look. Please God, take care of her and the others.
He sat up straight as he realized it was the first time he had prayed for a woman since Ellen’s death. Not that it meant anything. Except, a tiny voice insisted, it did.
Well, of course it did. He had vowed to take care of her until they reached Santa Fe and he didn’t intend to fail.
It was nothing more than that.
Gil Trapper, the scout, rode toward the caravan. He spoke to Buck then fell in beside Luke. “Riders coming.”
“Indians?” Luke glanced to his right where the women had disappeared.
“Worse. Half a dozen, hard-looking men. Have your guns ready.”
Luke lifted his rifle from his feet and stuck his sidearm into his waistband. He wanted to rush after the women, but they were out of sight. So long as the approaching men didn’t see them, they were safe.
A cloud of dust announced the men’s approach before the riders came into view heading straight toward them on the trail.
Come on. Face a bunch of armed men. We’re ready. Just don’t go after innocent women and a child.
The leader reined in and pointed toward the creek.
Had they spotted the women?
Luke couldn’t breathe as he waited for them to make the first move.
They turned to his right.
“They’ve seen the women,” Luke shouted. Buck and Gil headed that direction.
Oh, for a horse! But it would take too long to catch one. He jumped to the ground and broke into a run. He heard pounding feet behind him and guessed Warren followed, and maybe even the reverend, but he didn’t take the time to glance back.
A flash of blue caught his eyes. Little Polly. The women would not be far away. He slid down the slope, jamming his boots against bushes in order to slow his descent. The intruders picked their way down the hillside, slowed by the necessity of g
uiding their horses.
Luke reached the bottom. He couldn’t see the women anywhere. “Donna Grace,” he called, as he raced toward where he’d last seen Polly.
He saw a movement ahead in the bushes. The riders had reached the bottom and rode his direction. Unaware of the approaching danger, Polly bent to examine something at her feet. Luke stumbled on the rocky bank, righted himself and hurried onward. So far the men’s attention was on Polly, but any minute now they would notice him.
He pulled his pistol out, and had it ready to use. He wanted to call to the child but didn’t want to alert the men any sooner than necessary.
Then Donna Grace stepped from the bushes, calling Polly’s name.
The men reined in. They saw him at the same time and pulled out guns.
“Drop your firearm,” the leader called.
Luke considered his options. With Donna Grace and Polly in the line of fire, there was little he could do. He lowered his arm, but kept hold of the gun and eased forward.
“Drop the gun.” The shout left little doubt that the man meant business. Then he gave a mirthless laugh. “Sure wouldn’t want to see either of these fine females hurt.”
Luke lowered the gun to the ground. If he kept it close…
“Kick it away.”
Polly stood frozen, staring at the six men leering at her.
Donna Grace looked ready to fly at them and scratch their eyes out.
He spoke softly. “Stay calm. Don’t do anything.” He took stock of the situation. Mary Mae, Judith and Mrs. Shepton had pulled out of sight. There came no sound of Warren or Gil or Buck. Wait, a twig snapped somewhere. The intruders didn’t notice and Luke eased his breath out. He needed to distract the men so the others could sneak closer.
“Polly,” he called. “Don’t move. Don’t be afraid. These men aren’t going to hurt you.”
That elicited raucous laughing. “Brave talk. This your woman and kid?” The man who sat in the front of the riders sneered. “Whatcha gonna do to protect them?”
A shot rang out.
Polly sucked back a sob and rushed to Donna Grace.
Luke leapt forward, pushed them to the ground and threw himself over the pair.
He would die before he’d let Donna Grace suffer the same fate as Ellen.