by Linda Ford
Mrs. Shepton held a cup of tea and some biscuits. “Please take these while I get inside.”
“I could take them to her,” Luke said. In fact, he couldn’t think of anything he’d rather do than share a few more moments with her.
“You could, but I need to check on the new mama and baby.”
“Of course.” His cheeks stung as he realized Donna Grace would be wanting a woman to assist her.
“You have the rest of your lives together. A few minutes apart won’t hurt either of you.” Mrs. Shepton climbed in and Luke handed her the food and drink. Little did she know how short their time together would be. But all he could think of at the moment was the thrill of seeing the baby and being able to give her his name. Elena Rose Russell had a very nice ring to it.
He sauntered back to the fire, unable to stop smiling.
“Proud papa,” the reverend commented.
Let him think that was the case. But although Luke thought Elena Rose beautiful, it was the stolen kiss that had him smiling so widely. A kiss, that as her husband, he had every right to.
Mrs. Shepton left the wagon, carrying the lantern. “I think we should try and get some sleep.”
“Donna Grace,” he said. “If you need anything, don’t be afraid to call out.”
“Thanks. I’ll be okay.” She sounded drowsy so he settled close to the wagon in a place where he could keep the fire going, not only for their protection, but to make it possible for Donna Grace to see to tend the baby in the night.
He slept lightly, coming fully awake when he heard the baby fuss. He waited a moment and when the baby didn’t settle, threw another log on the fire. Twice more he wakened to the sound of crying. And once to the howl of a wolf. Each time he threw more wood on the fire.
It would be a relief to catch up to the others and know the safety of numbers.
He was up before dawn, added more wood to the fire and set a pot of coffee to brewing.
Donna Grace called out. “Is Mrs. Shepton up?”
The older woman climbed from her wagon and went to see Donna Grace. Although Luke strained to hear the conversation, he couldn’t make out the words.
Mrs. Shepton left Donna Grace. “She’s hungry.”
Luke chuckled. “That’s good, right?”
“Very good. She has to eat for two now.” The woman set about putting oatmeal to cook and frying bacon and potatoes. When it was ready, she took a plateful to the wagon.
Luke waited for her to return. “How long before she can travel?”
Donna Grace heard him. “As soon as breakfast is over.”
Again, silently, Luke asked the question of Mrs. Shepton.
“As long as she rests in the wagon for a few days, she’ll be okay. She’s young and strong.”
“And stubborn,” Luke added.
“I prefer to think of it as determined,” Donna Grace called.
Luke chuckled as he went to the back gate of the wagon. “I want to see for myself you are both well and able to travel. May I come in?”
“You may.”
He climbed in. In the morning light, things looked different. He saw them more clearly, but if anything, they were both more beautiful than last night. He knelt by Donna Grace’s side. “You sure you’re up to travel? We can wait another day if you want.”
She pressed her hand to his arm. “Thank you for suggesting it.” She seemed to consider her next words. “Bearing in mind what you said, I’m trying not to think how I’ve inconvenienced you. But I know we need to catch up to the others so, yes, I am ready to travel and so is this little girl.”
Luke studied the baby in Donna Grace’s arms. “Ma loved paintings of the Madonna and child. They never meant much to me until now.” His throat clogged with emotion. “Now I see the beauty of a mother and infant.” He couldn’t go on and hoped Donna Grace wouldn’t guess the way he choked up.
Her gaze was on her baby. “I had not guessed how overwhelming my love could be.” Tears leaked out. “I will do everything in my power to make sure she receives the love and care as she deserves.”
Luke caught a teardrop from each eye between his thumb and forefinger. “I will help you.”
Her gaze came to him.
He would believe he saw nothing but gratitude in her eyes. He would not admit a flicker of warning existed. For now, they were united in name and in the desire to care for and protect this child.
“Maybe you should hitch up the mules,” she said, with a note of amusement.
“I’ll get right to it.” He paused long enough to brush his knuckles across her chin. “Take care of yourself and our baby.” And before she could protest, he hurried from the wagon.
A short time later, they were back on the trail. Luke hoped they would catch the wagon train by noon. Aware of how vulnerable they were traveling alone, he looked back at the trail several times.
Of course, Donna Grace noticed. “You expecting company?”
“One can never be too cautious.”
An hour later they saw the dust of the wagon train in the distance. They clattered across some ruts in the trail and the wagon jerked roughly. He looked back. “I hope that doesn’t cause you undue discomfort.”
She chuckled. “Compared to yesterday, this is like riding a rocking chair.”
He understood what she didn’t say—that she had been in labor long before she admitted it. Stubborn woman.
In half an hour, they would overtake the wagon train. He took one last look behind him and sat down hard. Two men followed. They were a goodly distance back, and might simply be travelers on the trail, but he would be relieved when they were safely with the others.
As he’d predicted, the train was nooning by the time they caught up. He drew up behind the Russell wagon.
Mary Mae and Judith rushed toward him. “Where is she? Is everything okay?”
Donna Grace poked her head out the back opening. “I have a little girl. Who wants to see her?”
The women crowded around, demanding to know everything.
Luke rocked back on his heels watching them. No one noticed him, nor saw how his chest swelled enough to strain the seams of his shirt.
Warren came to his side. “A baby girl?” His words were heavy with sorrow.
Luke clapped him on the back. “I hope our joy doesn’t make your pain worse.”
Warren shook his head, but his face revealed how much this reminded him of his own loss.
Mary Mae took the baby and admired her perfect rosebud mouth, so much like Donna Grace’s ruby mouth. “What’s her name?”
When Donna Grace said, “Elena Rose,” Mary Mae broke into tears.
Polly sidled up to her. “I thought you would be happy.”
“I am. These are happy tears. Elena was my mama’s name. Would you like to hold her?”
“Can I?”
“Sit down and I’ll put her in your arms.”
Polly sat on the ground and Mary Mae settled the baby on Polly’s lap, holding her securely.
Polly stared at Elena, touched her fingers and her fluff of black hair.
“What do you think?” Donna Grace asked.
“I think babies are better than pets.”
The remark brought a smile to all the adults clustered around and served to break Warren free of his sorrow. He moved toward Mary Mae and bent over to look more closely at the baby. “She’s a beauty, isn’t she?”
Several voices murmured agreement.
Luke lifted his gaze to Donna Grace’s. He moved closer so he could whisper for her ears only. “I think this is it.”
“What?”
“The happiest moment of my life.”
She nodded, a warm smile in her eyes. “Me too.”
He didn’t point out that the moment would be taken away from both of them when they ended their marriage. They’d deal with that when the time came. In the meantime, he fully intended to enjoy what each day held.
Until Santa Fe. Then what?
He wouldn’
t answer himself.
11
Two days later, Donna Grace, at Mrs. Shepton’s insistence, took part in the Sunday evening service from the confines of the wagon. She joined in the singing and listened to the short message Reverend Shepton delivered.
“It’s like what Grandfather Ramos would do to me,” she groused as she sat at the back of the wagon able to see only a fraction of the world—the circled wagons, the darkening sky and mile after mile of prairie, now gray and disappearing into the night.
Of course, she thought with some sharpness, Luke overheard her. “What would your grandfather do?”
“Confine me to my quarters because he deemed something I did as unacceptable.” She was feeling sorry for herself, but the inside of the wagon was crowded. Every time she moved she bumped into something. Her legs begged to be free to walk.
“I hardly think this is the same. You’ve done something marvelous in bringing Elena Rose into the world. It was a big job and you need time to recover.” Luke leaned over the tailgate and brushed a strand of hair off her cheek. “Better to rest now than to regret activity later.”
Easy for him to say. She tried to remain disgruntled, but her thoughts followed the path of his fingers as they trailed along her face, down to her chin. His thumb rested on her lips. She remembered how he’d kissed her after Elena’s birth when he was overcome with awe at the little life cradled to her side. She’d not spoken of it. But now her curiosity and something more—a deeper need, a longing she was loath to admit—urged her to lean forward. “Why did you kiss me?”
He thumb stilled. “Because you deserved it.”
“Oh.” She had no response for that. “Because I had a baby?”
“Partly, but mostly because you are so strong, so determined, so kissable.” He leaned closer, his intent to kiss her again very clear. He moved slowly, giving her plenty of time to withdraw. She didn’t. Instead, she lifted her face and met him halfway. His lips lingered, sweet and claiming.
She told herself to pull back. There was no place for kissing in their agreement, but instead, she wrapped an arm about his shoulders and pulled him closer.
Luke was the first to ease back. He chuckled softly. “That, Mrs. Russell, signifies my appreciation of who you are.”
He strode away, a cocky swagger to his steps.
Appreciation? Humph. She sat back. What else did she expect? Or want? She grabbed a damp towel and tossed it to the corner. How had life gotten so complicated? She laughed. When hadn’t it been complicated? Certainly not since her mama had died.
Elena fussed and Donna Grace picked her up. “I think Mama would be very happy to know she has a little granddaughter named after her.”
Or would she disapprove because of the circumstances of Elena’s conception? Donna Grace sank back to her narrow bed on the floor of the wagon, the baby cradled in one arm. She pulled the quilt to her chin and closed her eyes, the shame and misery of the moment she realized she wasn’t married to Melvin sweeping over her. Tears stung her eyes, but she would not let them escape.
“Little Elena Rose, if I have anything to say about it, you will never know a moment’s shame because he didn’t have the right to father a child with me.” At least Luke had allowed Elena to have a father’s name.
Donna Grace swiped away an errant tear. Luke had given her a lot—a name for Elena Rose, his support and even a kiss.
She flung an arm over her head. It was getting harder and harder to remember that their marriage was pretend and temporary. She’d have to tell him not to kiss her again. But then he’d surely think she put more store in it than she should. The best thing she could do was pretend it meant nothing.
It meant nothing. There she’d said it. That made it true.
She refused to admit her reasoning was askew.
The next day it rained but Buck insisted they must move on.
Donna Grace remained under the leaking canvas as the rain continued hour after hour. Was there anything more depressing than being cooped up inside, with nothing to look at but sodden canvas and grey skies? Her only alternative was to study sweet Elena’s features or stare at Luke’s back. Water dripped from his hat to the shoulders of his black slicker. She dug a dry towel from her meager stack and handed it to him. “Dry your face. It will make you feel better.”
“Thanks.” He scrubbed at his face then handed the now-damp towel to her. “The oxen do better in the cooler weather, but if the rain doesn’t let up soon we’ll be struggling through mud.” Tension crackled in his voice.
Now was not the time to ask if he’d ever lost a wagon or had his goods ruined. She sought for something else to say. “I don’t suppose this day will go down in the happy memory side of things.”
Luke laughed. “Don’t think so, but, on the other hand, it’s not the worst day either.”
She longed for something to say to comfort him. Could think of nothing, so she switched subjects. “Where did you learn that hymn you sing? I don’t recall hearing it before.”
“Do you like it?”
“The words give me comfort.”
“Remember how I told you about the naturalist who traveled with us?”
She murmured acknowledgement.
“He taught it to us. Said it was a fairly new hymn that he’d heard while he was back in Philadelphia. What he loved about it was all the references to nature.”
“What do you like about it?”
“All the ways God is described—the King—full of power and love, our shield and defender. When I think of the words, and even more when I sing them, I know God is both powerful and loving, and I feel—” He stopped.
“Luke, what do you feel?” She spoke softly, feeling as if they were walking a sacred trail together.
“Safe,” he whispered. “I feel safe.”
“I like that.” She choked out her reply from a tightened throat. “I will remember it when I’m taking care of Elena on my own.”
Luke shifted to meet her eyes. His brimmed with determination. “You won’t be on your own as long as we are married.”
“I know.” Perhaps it was best not to think of how she must cope once they reached Santa Fe. Yes, she’d have Mary Mae, but she had no intention of preventing her sister from following her own interests. She retreated to the middle of the wagon and let the words of that hymn fill her mind and smooth away her worries.
The rain continued that night… a wet misery that held everyone in its grip. They couldn’t start a fire, and had nothing but cold biscuits and beans. What Donna Grace wouldn’t have given for a hot drink, but those outside needed it far worse than she.
The freighters hunkered under their wagons muttering about the discomfort. The animals tramped through the grass, turning it into a quagmire.
That night, Mary Mae crowded in with Donna Grace, who fashioned a little nest atop one of the trunks for Elena, for fear one of them would roll on her in their sleep.
It was a most uncomfortable existence. They wakened to still more rain, and ate a cold breakfast of the last of the beans and biscuits.
The men hitched and unhitched oxen to double harness and pulled wagons through the mud. Buck rode by often, yelling at the men to get moving. She overheard Luke and Warren worrying about how long it was taking to go a few miles.
“Sooner or later the rain will let up,” Warren said. “You know it always does. We just keep pushing ahead as best we can.”
“We’ve never had women folk to worry about before.”
Donna Grace could imagine the way Luke frowned as he said that and knew he meant, in a good part, her presence on this wagon train. She tried not to let the words sting. Somehow hearing them from Luke mattered more than it should.
Warren chuckled. “There’s almost always a few women on our journey.”
“I’ve never felt responsible for them before.”
“Likely because they weren’t your responsibility, nor did you feel a deep personal connection to them. Now you have a wife and daughter an
d that makes a big difference.”
“More than I thought it would.”
Warren laughed, but Donna Grace didn’t hear his reply as the men moved away to help pull a wagon through a mud hole.
She spent a few minutes trying to push away the sting of the overheard words. It wasn’t until Elena fussed for her next feeding that she achieved any degree of success. Why did she let it matter? She knew without a doubt that her presence had slowed Luke down, had complicated his life, but he would be free of her as soon as they reached Santa Fe.
A drop of moisture landed on Elena’s cheek. Donna Grace wiped it away then realized a tear had fallen from her eyes and she dashed them away. She had no patience with feeling sorry for one’s self.
The freight wagons were finally all on the move. Donna Grace knew there were more mud holes ahead. More harnessing and unharnessing animals in order to get through the bog, but for now, they inched forward. Mary Mae climbed into the wagon in preparation for their departure. She paused at the back of the wagon to take off her wet coat and shake the water from it.
“Oh for dry clothes and a hot drink,” Mary Mae murmured, then settled in a corner of the wagon, pulling a quilt about her shoulders in an attempt to get warm.
Luke climbed to the seat of their wagon and flicked the reins to get the mules to move. They leaned into the harness and pulled.
Donna Grace watched over Luke’s shoulders. “Those poor animals are straining so hard.”
“We have to keep moving.”
“I know.”
She heard the weariness in Luke’s voice. “Did you sleep last night?”
“Some.”
“Where?”
“Under the wagon.”
“I’m sorry.”
He glanced sideways at her and gave her a glimpse of the fatigue dulling his eyes and lining his face. “What are you sorry for? Making it rain? Turning the ground into mire? Having loaded freight wagons to pull through bottomless mud? Tell me, Donna Grace, which of those are you going to blame yourself for?”
She sat back on her heels, stung by his harsh words. Then something arose in her and she leaned close so he alone would hear her words. “I was going to say I’m sorry you haven’t been getting enough sleep and maybe even that the weather is so foul. But your mood is even worse.” She turned her back to him and pulled Elena into her arms.