Wagon Train Reunion (Journey West)

by Linda Ford

Ben laughed. Travel had never sounded so inviting. He rode toward his sisters and Abby and the others with a heart so light he laughed for the sheer pleasure of being alive, of seeing all those he cared for alive.

  Abby and his sisters hurried toward him, expressions full of gratitude.

  Martin rushed past and enfolded Sally and Johnny in a grateful hug.

  Mr. Bingham went to the wagon. “Mother, we are safe. Thanks be to God. I have never prayed so hard in my life.”

  Ben didn’t hear Mrs. Bingham’s reply. His entire attention was on those waiting to greet him.

  He swung to the ground as his sisters rushed to him. Emma broke into tears and he pulled her to his side to comfort her.

  “I’m glad to see you’re safe.” Rachel gave him a playful punch. “Don’t ever scare us like that again.”

  He laughed and pulled her to his other side. “I’d like to make such a promise, but I can’t.”

  He met Abby’s gaze as she stood two feet away. Her eyes were wide and dark. Of course she’d been frightened. They all had been.

  But was she frightened for him?

  “Abby.” Her name was but a whisper on his lips.

  She shuddered.

  His sisters reached for her and drew her close.

  Ben was almost nose to nose with her. Close enough to see the strain about her mouth, the tension in her eyes. He could smell the campfire smoke, and the fear clinging to her. “We’re all okay,” he murmured, wanting nothing more than to pull her into his embrace.

  He dropped his arms from his sisters’ shoulders. They edged back a few inches. “Abby.” He lifted his hands, pressed them to her shoulders. Felt her lean into him. “Oh, Abby.” Her name came from deep inside, from a place of needing, wanting, a secret sacred place reserved for her and her alone.

  “Abigail Bingham Black, what are you doing? I need your help.” At her mother’s voice, Abby sprang back. The color drained from her face. She lifted her eyes to Ben.

  “I can’t. I can’t.” And ran to the wagon.

  Ben stared after her, as wave after wave of shock, disappointment and confusion shuddered through him. He could fight an unseen prospect in Oregon, even a suitor on the wagon train.

  But how did he fight the hold her mother had over Abby?

  He hugged his sisters again. The Binghams and Littletons joined them for a hurried meal.

  Ben couldn’t help but notice the little furrow in Abby’s forehead as she bent over her plate. Why did she let her mother control her so firmly? There had to be more to it than fidelity but what?

  He wished he could get her alone to talk to her but life suddenly became very busy. They had reached the point in the trail where they had to cross the South Platte River. Sam suggested a way to do it. Remove as much stuff as possible from the wagons, cover them with skins and float them over. The job took a long time.

  Ben grew tired of listening to the men and women bicker about what they would take and what they would leave behind. Thankfully Emma and Rachel had already chosen wisely so only had to leave behind a chest of drawers.

  They moved from the river crossing to Windlass Hill. The path down looked perpendicular. How would they get the wagons safely down without them ending up splintered at the bottom?

  “Cast off anything that will make your wagons heavier,” Sam called. “Unless you’ve got a wish to see everything you own broken and scattered at the bottom.”

  It surprised Ben to see that people still carried extra stuff. Soon belongings were scattered across the landscape. Some enterprising fella could make a nice living collecting all the things and selling them.

  The oxen were taken down, then the wagon wheels chained to stop them from rolling. Small trees were tied to each wagon to hold it back then men attached ropes and by means of pulleys lowered the wagons to the bottom.

  Ben’s palms bled from the ropes. But he couldn’t stop.

  One wagon hit a stump on the way down and snapped one of the ropes holding it. The wagon flipped over and over and shattered on the ground. Thankfully no one was hurt and the occupants who had watched helplessly from the top of the hill were taken in by another family.

  With no time to nurse sorrow, the men prepared another wagon to lower it. To one side, Clarence Pressman fell back and let his rope slacken.

  “Hold tight,” Ben called. “Or we’ll have another wreck.”

  Clarence sat on the ground, spent.

  Ben shook his head. What was a weakling doing on this trip? His own muscles strained to the breaking point under the added weight of trying to hold the wagon back.

  Suddenly, a mountain of a man grabbed Pressman’s slack ropes. He nodded at Ben as if to say everything was under control.

  “Thanks,” Ben called, and turned his attention back to his task.

  As soon as the wagon was down, he strode over to thank the man again.

  “Nathan Reed, at your service.”

  Ben immediately liked the man despite his unkempt look. Black hair to his shoulders. Ebony eyes. And a way of looking directly into one’s gaze as if he saw the whole world there.

  “Where are you headed? We could use a man like you on the train.”

  Nathan shrugged. “Going to Fort Laramie to stock up.”

  Ben took that for agreement to join the wagon. After a few questions, he ascertained the man was a hunter and trapper who spent much of his time exploring the great plains. “I’ll introduce you to Mr. Bingham. He needs someone to help him.”

  “Don’t mind being that someone.”

  Nathan grabbed a rope as they prepared to lower the next wagon.

  They finished up by dark and Ben introduced Nathan to the others at the camp. “Nathan is going to accompany us. Mr. Bingham, he’s willing to partner with you.”

  Mrs. Bingham’s mouth pursed like she’d bitten down on a lemon but Mr. Bingham held out his hand to Nathan. “Glad to have some help. I fear I struggle with the oxen, among other things.”

  Ben sat back, weary clear through. Emma dressed his palms and wrapped strips of cotton around his hands.

  “You’ll have to keep them clean until they heal.”

  He leaned his head back against the wagon wheel and half closed his eyes. But he couldn’t resist letting his gaze slip to Abby.

  Her mother clung to her side, hands clawing at Abby’s sleeve as if afraid Abby would run off.

  Abby looked directly at Ben, her expression guarded perhaps so her mother wouldn’t take note of it. But he saw the longing that filled her eyes.

  At least he told himself he did. He was too tired at the moment to contemplate any other reason for the way she looked at him.

  After supper, James moseyed by and signaled to Ben.

  Ben joined him outside the wagons.

  “Look what I found.” James showed him a piece of scrap wood with H.P. burned into it. “I believe it means Henry Plante. This is from his wagon. Remember, the robbers back in Independence stole his wagon. I’m even more certain that the man who robbed the safe is among us.”

  “Where did you find it?”

  “Up the hill. It was part of a broken chest. I’m guessing whoever threw it out had no idea the initials were on it. We need to keep a sharp lookout for this man.”

  They walked the perimeter of the circle as they talked but could detect nothing amiss.

  “I have to say this for the man,” James said a couple of hours later. “He’s cunning.”

  A little later, Ben bid him good-night and returned to his family. Everyone had already retired except Nathan who wrapped himself in a fur and lay under the wagon.

  “Trouble?” he asked.

  “I hope not.” He wouldn’t be sharing any secrets with Nathan, for despite his help this afternoon, Ben had no reason to trust him. Just a
s he had no reason to trust Abby.

  He wished he could convince his heart it didn’t matter.

  * * *

  Abby listened for Ben to return. Heard him wishing James a good night. So he preferred James’s company over hers.

  Or had Mother’s words quenched his interest in her? She brushed her lips. How could he kiss her with such warmth if he didn’t care? But he’d managed to avoid her since that night. Oh, she understood he was busy but was it more than that?

  Then he’d assigned Nathan to help Father. That meant Ben wouldn’t need to in the future.

  Was it just another means of staying away from her? She shuddered.

  Was this to be the punishment for her guilt over Andy’s death?

  Her insides coiled and tightened so that she had to lie on her side and draw her legs up.

  She pulled the covers over her mouth lest anyone hear her sigh.

  Oh, God, how I long for Your peace.

  Did she deserve it?

  The next morning when she arose, Ben was already gone. He returned a little later to eat breakfast. But he and Nathan talked together.

  “It’s July Fourth,” Emma said.

  Ben chuckled. “And we are free to travel.”

  “You mean we aren’t going to celebrate?” Rachel sounded disappointed.

  Ben and Nathan were on their feet ready to leave. Ben paused to answer his sister. “Maybe Sam will let us stop early this evening.” His gaze slid to Abby. Stopped there long enough to make her heart rattle against the roof of her mouth. Then Mother jerked on her sleeve and Ben turned away.

  They moved on. Travel travel travel. Was that all there was to life?

  But by late morning, a ripple of excitement hurried down the line of wagons. “Ash Hollow. Sam says we’ll camp here.”

  Abby and Rachel rushed ahead to see what was so special about Ash Hollow.

  They stopped and stared. “It’s the most beautiful campsite I’ve seen,” Abby said. Thick, shady ash trees and a spring of water.

  Rachel laughed and caught Abby’s hands, swinging them round and round in a crazy, happy dance.

  “This is where we’re celebrating the Fourth.” Ben’s voice sounded amused.

  Abby stumbled. She hadn’t seen him stride up and he was gone again before she could gather her thoughts together.

  “A celebration!” Rachel cheered. They hurried back to camp, and under Rachel’s watchful eye, Abby made a spice cake while Rachel and Emma made currant pies. Everywhere, the women worked hard preparing a special meal.

  The children played in the water. The men filled the water barrels.

  Rather than each group eat separately, the women spread the food down the center of the camp on barrels and upturned tubs. Everyone was in high spirits at having made it this far.

  “We must be halfway,” young Jed Henshaw said.

  “We’ve come five hundred miles,” Sam said.

  “Only a quarter of the way.” Jed sounded dejected.

  “And the worst is yet to come.”

  Sam’s words robbed the celebration of its joy. Then they dismissed his warning. How could it be worse?

  Emma looked about. “Have you seen Delores Jensen?”

  Abby searched the crowd. “I don’t see any of them.” She’d been so caught up in her own concerns, she’d forgotten everyone else. Except for Ben and he was enjoying himself down the row with Miles and James.

  She hurried back to the wagons, Emma at her side. They ran past several until she located the Jensens.

  The two older girls sat holding the babies.

  “Ma’s inside,” Annie said.

  “The twins are poorly,” Betty added.

  “Delores?” Emma climbed up to peer in. “What’s wrong?”

  “They’re fevered.”

  She scrambled inside. “How long have they been this way?”

  “Since morning, I guess. I confess I didn’t notice at first.”

  Abby watched from the back as Emma examined the twins.

  “Could it be the measles?” Delores asked.

  Emma stared at her. “I thought all your children had them.”

  “The girls did.” Delores looked troubled. “When the twins didn’t get them when the babies did, I assumed they were going to be spared.”

  Emma nodded. “It could be measles, but there’s no way of knowing until the rash comes out.”

  Delores glanced about, her expression tight. “I don’t know how I’ll manage what with the babies...” She shook her head.

  “I’ll stay and help,” Abby offered. It’s not like anyone would miss her at the celebration. Mr. Henshaw had a fiddle. He could play for them.

  “I’m grateful. The baby needs nursing, but the twins won’t let me leave.”

  Abby swung into the back. “Will you let me take care of you?” she asked the twins.

  Cathy nodded, but Donny barely looked at her.

  “Do what you can to lower the fever,” Emma said. “I’ll check back in a little while.” She sighed. “I’d really hoped this was done.”

  Abby sponged the twins. She sang to them. And she remembered when she and Andy were sick. Always at the same time. Always competing for attention from the nurse. Mother would visit once or twice a day. She’d hover over Andy, brushing his hair off his forehead. She’d pause at Abby’s beside and nod.

  “You’re doing fine.”

  Abby had longed for a warm touch from Mother. She still did. But those, for the most part, had been reserved for Andy.

  Cathy’s fever lowered with sponging, but Donny grew warmer, tossing and turning and muttering nonsense.

  Delores returned from nursing the youngest baby. She shook her head after touching Donny’s forehead. “I don’t like this.”

  Nor did Abby. But she wouldn’t let the boy die. No, God. Not again. She dashed from the wagon and scooped icy water from the spring. She hurried back, unmindful of the water sloshing from the bucket and wetting her skirts. Back at the wagon, she found the oilcloth Alvin used and spread it on the ground. She briefly wondered where the man was. Perhaps it was his turn to be on guard duty.

  “Give me the boy. It will be easier to fight his fever out here.”

  Delores did so and saw what Abby meant to do. She quickly stripped Donny’s clothes off until he lay in his underwear.

  Then she and Abby sponged him with the cold water. After what seemed like an hour, they sat back, relieved that he was no longer dangerously hot.

  Emma returned. “So far these two are the only ones with these symptoms. How are they doing?”

  Delores explained what they’d done.

  Emma squeezed Abby’s shoulder. “Good job, but I expect his fever will return.” She turned to Delores. “Watch him carefully. Sponge him again when necessary.”

  Twice more Donny’s fever grew and twice more he responded to the cold water sponge.

  At the moment, he rested comfortably. Cathy had insisted she be with him, so they slept within reach of each other.

  She and Delores sat a little way from the children so they could talk freely. Delores nursed the baby again. Annie and Betty had taken the other little one and gone to bed.

  “I had a twin brother.”

  “Had? What happened?”

  “He died.” Realizing this was not the time to talk of a twin dying, she added. “But that’s in the past.”

  Delores squeezed Abby’s hand. “Not so far back it doesn’t still hurt. Why don’t you tell me about it?”

  Abby hesitated. “I don’t want to burden you with my concerns.”

  “Nonsense. I promise I won’t let it upset me.”

  “Very well. Andy was thrown from a horse. I confess I encouraged him to ride the animal eve
n though everyone knew it was a man-killer.” She’d found that out afterward.

  Delores squeezed Abby’s hand again. “My dear, you have to forgive yourself.”

  Somehow, Abby wasn’t surprised that Delores saw right to the heart of the matter. “I will never forget.”

  “I didn’t say forget. I said forgive.”

  Abby didn’t respond. How did one forgive when it was their fault?

  “I lost a baby, between Betty and the twins. I blamed myself. I heard the baby fussing in the night, but I was so tired I didn’t get up. In the morning, she was blue and cold. She’d vomited. If I’d checked on her she would be alive today.”

  Abby found Delores’s hand and squeezed it. “I’m sorry.”

  “For a long time, I didn’t want to live. Poor Alvin didn’t know what to do with me. He got my mother to come and care for the girls while I lay on my bed and stared at the wall.”

  Abby had no words of comfort to offer the woman. She knew the feeling of such despair.

  “But I recovered. I found the strength to continue and to forgive myself. You can, too.”

  Abby didn’t say anything. She could never forgive herself.

  “It was the Easter season and my mother made me get up and dress to attend church. My, but I resented her at that point but she knew what I needed. I saw the picture at the front of the church of three crosses. The preacher read the story. The only words I heard were those spoken by the one thief, ‘We receive the due reward of our deeds.’ I knew the due reward I deserved for neglecting my baby. I thought if I never enjoyed life again, I might pay a big enough price. But Jesus forgave that man. He wanted to forgive me, too, but I had to let Him. I found peace from my guilt at that service and God blessed me doubly with my twins and two more little ones.” She turned to Abby. “You see, my friend, if a righteous God can forgive us, we need to forgive ourselves.”

  Abby nodded. The words made sense, but could they apply to her? Could she forgive herself?

  Chapter Eighteen

  Ben looked about for Abby. Where was she? Didn’t she want to join in the celebration? He made his way through the crowd. The women were busy cleaning up from the meal. Perhaps Abby had gone back to the campsite but only Rachel was there putting away dishes.