Oregon Trail Boxed Set

by Hutton, Callie

  All the blood left her face when a short outlaw, with a scar from the corner of his eye to his chin, pulled out a pair of her drawers and sniffed. He wiped his drooling mouth with the undergarment and smiled at her, shoving it into the waistband of his filthy pants.

  She fought the black dots dancing before her eyes.

  I will not faint. I won’t give them the satisfaction.

  After gathering what they wanted from the trunk, leaving clothing and possessions scattered all around, the men remounted their horses. The fat man cried into his handkerchief.

  “A pleasure doing business with y’all,” the leader said. Then he glanced in Angel’s direction. “If you want to come along, honey, hop on up.”

  She stepped back, crossed her arms and stared him in the eye. He laughed uproariously, tugged on the brim of his hat, and took off. Clouds of dry dirt billowed behind them as they made their escape.

  “Are you crazy?” The fat man said to Angel, wiping his forehead with his handkerchief. “You could have gotten us all killed.”

  “You certainly weren’t any help.” The knitter eyed him as she began picking up pieces of clothing.

  “They had guns!” His voice trembled.

  Angel shook her head in disgust and knelt next to the driver, who moaned. She helped him to sit.

  “And what good were you?” The large man shouted at the driver. “You’re supposed to protect us from these things. I’m going to write to the company, and file a complaint.”

  “Oh, hush.” Angel glared at him. “Help me stand him up.”

  Between the two of them, they got the driver to his feet. He’d been bashed on the head, but assured them he was fit enough to continue the trip. He ordered the passengers to pack up their stuff.

  As each trunk was closed as best as it could, the driver tossed it on the top of the coach and strapped it down. About an hour after the outlaw’s departure, with the driver pale and shaking, they continued on their journey. The doctor remained unconscious, not realizing his pocket watch, money clip, and a ring were gone.

  3

  “Papa, I don’t understand why we have to wash and put on fancy clothes to meet our new mama.” Luke wiggled as the wet cloth in Nate’s hand swirled over his face.

  “Do you want your new mama to think we’re all a bunch of hooligans?”

  “What’s a hooligan?”

  “Someone who’s dirty and smelly, and a no-account.”

  “What’s a no-account?”

  “Someone who looks ragged and grubby.” He quickly dried the boy’s face. “Now stop all the questions, and get dressed.” As the boy took off, he added, “Send John down here so I can wash him up.”

  Nate glanced for the tenth time at the gingerbread shelf clock near the cook stove. What was he thinking to send for a mail order bride? As the time grew near for his new wife to arrive, doubts assailed him. He took a calming breath. His life was chaos, he needed−heck, the whole family needed−a woman who could take over. The only women in town willing to take on five kids had expectations. He’d seen the way they looked at him, what they wanted from him. They would expect courting, love, things he had no time or inclination for.

  Through their letters, Nate had learned Angel was twenty-two years old, and had lived in New York City all her life. She wanted change, and longed for the adventure of the west. She never once mentioned expectations of love, or tender feelings of any kind.

  According to her letters, she could cook, clean, and run an efficient house. She adored children, and would love to be a mother to his. Sounded like a true spinster, but right now he would take old Mrs. Darby to wife if she would straighten up his life. In fact, the more unattractive she was, the better. The last thing he wanted was the temptation of a pretty bride. His brood was large enough, thank you.

  Nate conducted a final inspection. All the boys lined up at the door with clean faces and hair slicked down. Julia-Rose wore a new dress and bonnet Mrs. Darby had made for the occasion. He took a deep breath.

  Time to go.

  As the boys solemnly walked out the door, Nate frowned. “John, go put on shoes.”

  * * *

  “Next stop, Oregon City.”

  This was it. A jolt of panic hit Angel smack in her middle, and raced through her veins. Her heart sped up, threatened to jump out of her throat. Her stomach rolled over and played dead, and all the moisture in her mouth evaporated. With shaky hands, she tried to smooth the wrinkles out of her torn dress. Her hat had been smashed under the fat man’s bottom when they returned to the coach after the hold up. She tried her best to set the once-fashionable bonnet to right, but without a mirror there was no way to tell.

  A hole in her stocking near her ankle gaped at her as she shook out her dress. She’d fallen getting out of the coach at the last station. Her face and neck were coated with sweaty dirt. If she tried to clean up with a handkerchief, she’d do nothing more than create mud to smear around.

  The coach slowed as it took a turn onto a main street. Her nausea got stronger. She looked out the window. Muddy streets, crowded, weather-beaten buildings. No elegant stores or restaurants. Nothing similar to what she’d left behind. Well, certainly better than the miles of prairie she’d crossed. But surely Oregon City would be more of a city?

  Was this even part of the United States? Had she left the States completely behind? Of course she had. Hadn’t she? Maybe she should stop the coach and hurry into the sheriff’s office they just passed and peruse a map.

  I’m becoming hysterical.

  She inhaled a deep breath to calm herself. However, with the restriction of her corset, all she managed to do was make herself dizzy.

  Why, oh why did Sylvia do this to her? She should’ve refused, fled to one of her friends’ houses. Anything but face a strange man who expected to be her husband in a very short while.

  Angel allowed the knitter and the large man to precede her out of the coach. The doctor had departed a while back, never noticing his missing possessions. No one felt the need to enlighten him. She reached for the driver’s hand to step out of the coach.

  Good heavens—I smell!

  No blinding sun here, the cloud cover gave everything a dull, lifeless appearance. She looked around, and aside from a crowd standing in front of the post office, she didn’t see a man who should have been here to meet her. Maybe Mr. Hale had changed his mind, and she was stuck here with no money, job, or a place to stay.

  Should I be relieved if he had?

  Movement caught her eye as she watched a group in front of the post office walk toward the stagecoach. Her eyes grew round, and sweat trickled down between her breasts. With horror, she realized this most likely was her new family. Mr. Hale had brought all his children to meet the stagecoach.

  Tall, blond, and broad shouldered under a brown suit, the handsome man carried a little girl with blond curls and a pretty pink dress and bonnet. Four boys, with varying shades of blond and brown, slicked back hair, followed behind him. With clean faces, and wearing church clothes, they resembled chicks trailing a mother hen.

  Angel tried to smile, fought the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. Her stomach clenched, and her hand rose slowly to her throat. She fisted the cloth reticule in her other hand until the whole thing was a wrinkled mess, much like the rest of her.

  * * *

  Passengers alighted from the stagecoach. Nate breathed a sigh of relief when a pudgy woman, carrying a knitting bag, waved to a young woman, holding an infant in her arms, and two toddlers clinging to her skirts. For a moment, he thought she was Angel. A huge man followed, who wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. Several moments passed, then a young woman put her foot on the step of the coach, and accepted the hand of the driver.

  From what he could see, she could have been pretty, but it was hard to say. As he approached, he noted her appealing figure, but other than that, she was a mess. Her hair hung down in clumps from her bun. A hat, which had apparently been through hard times, teet
ered on her head like a squashed doughnut. The dress she wore was stained and dirty, gaping at the waist. Her entire body was covered with a fine coating of road dust. He stopped in front of her. Sweat ran down from her temples, leaving tracks of white skin against the dirt.

  “Angelina?”

  “Yes,” she stammered, “I’m Angel.”

  “Papa.” Luke tugged on Nate’s arm. “Is our new mama a hooligan or a no-account?”

  Angel’s eyes darted from side to side, then she looked directly at him, grabbed her middle, and threw up.

  “Papa!” John shouted and jumped back, banging into Nate. Startled, Julia-Rose wailed at the top of her lungs.

  “I told you I don’t want no goldarned new mama,” Mark yelled as he turned and ran back toward the post office.

  Angel buried her head in her hands and cried.

  Nate looked helplessly around with a screaming daughter in his arms and a distraught bride-to-be wailing in front of him.

  Heaven help me, please. Now what?

  He dragged his hand down his face, then breathed a sigh of relief as Mrs. Darby stepped out of the mercantile. She bustled over to the distraught family, immediately taking charge.

  “Nate, is this the new bride?” She took the crying Julia-Rose out of his arms.

  “Yes.” He cleared his throat. “This is Angel. I mean Miss Angelina Hardwick.”

  “Oh, you poor dear.” She shifted the baby and caught Angel by the arm. “I’m Mrs. Darby. Come with me into the mercantile and we’ll get you all cleaned up.”

  Nate looked at the mess on the bottom of his pants and shoes. He shrugged and walked to the horse trough in front of the saloon, then tried his best to clean up with his handkerchief.

  The twins rolled on the ground, holding their throats, making gagging noises. Matt had gone after his brother, who headed in the direction of home.

  Well, that was a promising start.

  With the family scattered and his bride swept away, a quick beer was definitely in order.

  “Luke, you and your brother get off the ground.” He walked over to their rolling bodies and hauled John up by his collar. “You two go with Mrs. Darby.”

  Assured his sons were safe in the mercantile, he ducked into the saloon. Several men stood at the bar, scarred work boots resting on the metal railing that ran along the bottom. Nate nodded to the ones who turned in his direction and leaned on the bar, raising two fingers to the bartender.

  “What happened out there, Nate?” The bartender slapped a cold glass of foamy amber liquid in front of him.

  He gulped the beer and slid the glass over for a refill. “My new bride arrived.”

  “Good luck.” The bartender placed the refill on the counter, and walked away, whistling a nameless tune.

  Nate took the beer from the bar and wandered over to a table near the large window, with a good view of the street. Too late to have second thoughts. Angel looked a wreck, and there’d been clear terror in her eyes right before she let loose at his feet. Hopefully it was just nerves and there wasn’t something wrong with the woman. He sighed, and downed the rest of his drink. A glance at the dark clouds overhead told him a storm brewed. It was time to get everyone gathered up and back home.

  * * *

  Angel followed Mrs. Darby through the front door of the mercantile and down the tight passageway, past shelves of food and clothes, and barrels of pickles, flour and sugar, directly to the back of the store.

  “Gertrude Stevenson, come on out here and help us.” The strength of the woman’s voice caused several customers in the store to stare in their direction.

  A short, thin woman, with spectacles perched on the edge of her nose, hurried out from behind a curtain. “What’s the matter, Mamie?” She took a deep breath and patted her heart. “You scared me to death.” Gertrude slid her spectacles back up on the bridge of her nose and peered at Mrs. Darby holding the howling baby in one arm and Angel following behind, wiping her face with a soggy handkerchief.

  “Help me get this poor woman cleaned up.” She led Angel through the curtain to the living area, and sat her in a chair.

  “Who is she? And what happened?” Gertrude moved to the sink and filled a pan with warm water from the reservoir.

  “She’s Nathan Hale’s new bride, just arrived a few minutes ago. The poor thing emptied her stomach out there on the street.”

  “Oh, dear. Not a good beginning, I’m afraid.” Gertrude gathered soap and a clean cloth from under the sink and washed the dirt off Angel’s face. “What’s your name, honey?”

  She stared at the woman, worked her mouth to say something, and then whispered, “Angel.” New tears fell from her swollen eyes.

  Gertrude looked questioningly at Mrs. Darby. “Her name’s Angel.” Mrs. Darby dipped the edge of a wet cloth in sugar and gave it to the baby, which she immediately began to suck on, her eyelashes clumped with tears.

  The store owner proceeded to clean the dirt from Angel’s face and neck, and then handed her a glass of water to rinse her mouth. The entire time, tears continued to run down her cheeks.

  “Where’s Nate?” Gertrude asked Mrs. Darby as she offered Angel a towel to dry her face.

  “I’m not sure where he went. I brought her here right away. Most likely he’s still outside, waiting.”

  One of the boys poked his head around the curtain. “Papa wants to know if our new mama is cleaned up yet. He wants to get home before the rain starts.”

  “Well, he can’t be bringing this young woman home until they stand before the preacher,” Gertrude said, aghast. “You go tell your pa to come on in here, so I can speak with him.” Rinsing the cloth, she huffed, “The very idea!”

  Angel sat on the kitchen chair, her head down, hands clasped in her lap. Her hair still hung tangled in front of her face. She patted the top of her head, but the battered hat had slid over to one side.

  I’m so tired. All I want to do is lie down and sleep and wake up when this nightmare is over.

  The reality of seeing the man in the flesh, along with the children, sucked out the last bit of strength she’d had. All those kids! And he was ready to hand them over to her. She was no more prepared to take over than she was to be Queen of England.

  “Ma’am, you sent for me?” Nate entered the kitchen.

  “Yes, I did, Mr. Hale.” Gertrude drew herself up to her full height. “You understand you can’t bring this young woman into your home until you’re married, don’t you?”

  Angel peeked at her intended, expecting to see anger in his eyes. Instead, he tilted his brow, looking at her uncertainly.

  “Uh, yeah, that’s what I originally had in mind, but Miss Hardwick doesn’t seem to be in any condition to get married right now.” His gaze darted toward her again. She lowered her eyes.

  “That doesn’t matter.” Gertrude waved a dismissal at the minor problem he presented. “I cannot allow you to compromise her in that way, Mr. Hale.” Gertrude oozed all the vengeance of the archangel Gabriel.

  “Well, ma’am, I’ll be happy to comply.” He spoke quickly. “If one of you ladies could notify the preacher, I’ll go and round up the rest of my family.”

  Mrs. Darby rose, and with the baby asleep on her shoulder, headed to the door. “Gertrude, see if you can fix Miss Hardwick up a little, maybe pull another dress out of her trunk. I’ll tell the preacher we’re coming to his house.”

  Angel took a deep breath. This was it. No reprieve from being married to the stranger with all those children. Of course, the woman was correct. It wasn’t proper for her to go home with him unmarried, but any last-minute rescue from this debacle seemed unlikely.

  * * *

  After dragging Matt back to town by the collar of his shirt, and rounding up the rest of the boys, he’d gone to the preacher’s house where Angel, Mrs. Darby and Gertrude waited for them. Aside from acknowledging her name when they’d first met, his bride hadn’t uttered another word, or given him more than a cursory glance since their first meet
ing.

  Pastor Michael Dunn was a pleasant man with thinning white hair and thick spectacles perched on his nose. He smiled warmly at them. Caroline Dunn, the pastor’s wife, touched a handkerchief to the corner of her eye.

  Angel stared at the floor the whole time, mumbling answers to her shoes. When Pastor Dunn told Nate he could kiss the bride, he bent his head, and when Angel didn’t move, he gave her a kiss somewhere along her hairline.

  I hope I haven’t just married a woman who’s touched in the head.

  Gertrude and Mrs. Darby hugged Angel. Mrs. Darby whispered something in Angel’s ear. The comment went unacknowledged. Uncertain about his new wife, he escorted her out of the house, and into the wagon.

  Nate had taken care of having her trunks loaded in the back, and with a nod, the four boys climbed in alongside them. They were all exceptionally quiet, darting furtive glances at Angel. Nate plopped Julia-Rose on Matt’s lap, and climbed on the seat next to Angel. With a flick of the reins, they started for home.

  Angel had fallen asleep, her chin resting on her chest. Even in sleep she looked tired and worn. Thankfully, the ride to his house wasn’t long, since she’d likely topple into the dirt. A soft rain fell before they reached home, plastering curls to her head and face. Dark smudges lined the delicate skin under her eyes. Not even the water running down her nose and dripping in rhythm on her chest woke her up.

  Try as he might, he couldn’t ignore the swell of her breasts, or the outline of her legs where the wet dress laid against them.

  Tarnation, the girl looks worn to death, and you’re thinking about her body parts. No wonder you have all these damn kids.

  Nate pulled up in front of the white clapboard house. Flower pots that Amy used to keep full of seasonal flowers stood empty. Before they left, he’d swept the scattering of toys away from the door into a pile on the porch. The vegetable garden on the side of the house, where he brought the wagon in, was overgrown with weeds. Haphazardly pinned wash, now wet again, dropped fat circles of water, creating muck. He was in desperate need of help.