Trail to Clear Creek (Thanksgiving Books & Blessings Collection One Book 3)

by Kit Morgan

  “Looks like you had a setback,” Grandma Waller said as she joined her next to the fire. “What happened? You were doing so well.”

  Honoria wiped her brow with the back of her hand. “It’s nothing, Grandma. Family squabble. Don’t worry, I’ll get it sorted.”

  “Sorted, eh?” Grandma said. She always seemed to delight in Honoria’s Britishisms – or Mary Mulligan’s Irish expressions, for that matter. Heaven help her if she ever met some Frenchmen – she’d probably swoon at their bon mots. “Anything I can help with?”

  “Are you referring to my ruined supper or something else?”

  “You’ve handled enough burnt dinners to deal with that yourself. I’m talking about the other thing.”

  “Oh, that. It’s nothing, really – I expect it would have happened sooner or later.”

  “Oh?”

  “Jefferson thinks Duncan is up to something.”

  “Can I help?” Grandma repeated.

  Honoria smiled at the older woman. She appreciated that Grandma didn’t ask what the problem was. She was no gossip, unlike Fanny Fig and her Indian tales of terror. “Thank you, but I think I can handle this. Jefferson and I have five sons between us, all grown or nearly so – they’re not going to get along easily.”

  Grandma took the other stool. “Can I give you some advice, child?”

  “I’d welcome it.”

  Grandma put her hands in her lap. “Doc and I don’t have any kids – we tried, but things didn’t work out for us. Still, over the years we’ve taken care of hundreds of younguns, seen them through lots of different situations. You and Jefferson are trying to bring two families together that, if it ain’t too bold for me to say, don’t want to be. I’ve seen how Jack and Sam look at your boys and vicey-versy.”

  Honoria’s eyes widened. “Come now, Grandma – my boys wouldn’t…”

  “Sure, they would,” Grandma interjected. “And have – that’s what boys do. I figured it was just a matter of time before Duncan and Sam locked horns, them being the oldest. I’m surprised it hasn’t happened yet.”

  Honoria stared at her in shock. But, if she really thought about it – something she’d been avoiding all day – she had to admit it was true. Just as Duncan, Colin and Harrison had dealt with Benedict’s death in their own way, they were doing the same with her marriage to Jefferson. “Colin pulled practical jokes after he lost his father. It’s how he coped. You don’t think Duncan is doing something similar, do you?”

  “Duncan’s a man now, child – young, but still a man. Who knows how he’s dealing with this? What does Jefferson think?”

  “I’m not sure. All I know is he wanted to speak with Duncan about Irene’s accusations.”

  “Irene?” Grandma said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Irene accuses everyone of something. She’d accuse a bullfrog of swallowing a teacup.”

  Honoria laughed. She appreciated Sarah Waller’s turns of phrase as well. “Still, to have your new husband accuse your son of thievery doesn’t set well.”

  “No, but things happen, sometimes not as we intend,” Grandma said. “And by the time the news reaches others, the story has changed. Maybe Duncan borrowed something from Wilfred, forgot to bring it back and now she thinks he stole it. Happens all the time.”

  “You’re right, it does. But how do you explain the others things missing around the camps?”

  Grandma stood. “That’s a mystery to me. I hope it’s solved – I’m missing my best set of knitting needles.”

  Honoria gasped. “You are?”

  “I had them last night, but now I can’t find them anywhere.”

  Honoria scanned her own camp. “I haven’t seen them. And you didn’t have them here with you before all the ruckus started?”

  Grandma shook her head. “Maybe I’m getting forgetful. At my age it starts to happen.” She turned to leave. “Take my advice, child, and talk to Jefferson. Side with him, not against him.”

  “And accuse my son of stealing?” Honoria asked in shock.

  “Not at all. Just help him find the truth. You’re a team now – you have to learn to work as one. You’ll need to where we’re going. Life is hard in a new land and you can’t waste time on silly arguments.”

  Honoria nodded as Grandma’s words sank in. She was right – she shouldn’t let Jefferson’s actions upset her. There had to be a simple explanation. “Thank you for your advice. I’ll heed it as best I can.”

  Grandma winked. “That’s the spirit. Now finish cooking supper for your menfolk.” She headed back to her own camp and left Honoria to her thoughts.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “So what do you have to say for yourselves?” Pete Smithers asked.

  Jack and Sam exchanged a look. “Whaddaya want?” Sam asked.

  Pete sat next to him and leaned his back against the rock with them. “Hain’t ya heard? More stuff’s gone missin’. Rumor ‘round camp is yer new brother’s the thief.”

  Sam’s eyes lit up. “That so?”

  Jack shook his head. “Here we go again.”

  “Be quiet,” Sam snapped. He turned back to Pete. “Why’re ya tellin’ us this, anyway?”

  “Ain’t no secret you can’t stand them boys.” Pete glanced around and lowered his voice. “Rumor also has it Cyrus Van Cleet’s travelin’ with a tidy sum of coin.”

  “What?” the brothers said at once.

  Pete nodded. “Yep. Keeps it in a chest in the back of his wagon – even sleeps with it.”

  Jack and Sam exchanged another look. “What for?” Jack asked.

  Sam smacked him in the chest. “To guard it, ya idjit!” He narrowed his eyes at Pete. “Ya thinkin’ of stealin’ it?”

  “Me? I’d get fired!” Pete wiped his hands on his trousers. “Well, I guess I’ll mosey along …”

  “Wait a minute!” Sam stood. “Why tell us that, then leave? What’re ya up to?”

  “Me?” Pete said with an innocent shrug. “I’m just passin’ along news. What ya do with it is yer business. But, say, if Van Cleet’s chest went missin’ and all that other stuff is also missin’ and Duncan Cooke is found with it …”

  Jack jumped to his feet. “No. Absolutely not.”

  “Shut up,” Sam said, his eyes still on Pete. “What’s in it for us?”

  “Half the take,” Pete whispered. “If ya pull it off.”

  “Pa’ll kill us!” Jack groaned.

  “Not if he don’t find out,” Sam snarled. “And yer not gonna tell him, are ya?”

  Jack studied the two other men. Sam could be nasty when he wanted to be, and he was sure Pete Smithers could too. “Leave me out of this.”

  “Not after ya just heard it,” Pete sneered. “Yer already in the thick of it, boy.”

  Jack felt his gut sink to his toes. “What if I don’t want no part in it?”

  “You’ll do as yer brother tells ya,” Pete replied. “I been thinking about this ever since things started disappearin’. So long as it keeps happenin’, we cain’t miss.”

  “We’ll miss our heads if our pa finds out,” Jack said. “Not to mention a few other things. There ain’t no law out here – what if we get caught and the Van Cleets want us lynched?”

  Pete rolled his eyes. “Kinzey’s the law and he’ll side with me. There won’t be no lynchin’ unless ya get caught.”

  “Hey, wait a minute,” Sam said. “What ‘bout all yer talk when ya first spoke with us? Ya flapped yer gums ‘bout how you and yer boys didn’t dare cross Mr. Kinzey.”

  “Things change. Kinzey ain’t goin’ back to Independence – he plans on settlin’ in Oregon City. I need money, gents, plain and simple.”

  Sam glanced at Jack and smiled. “What’s yer plan?”

  “Ya get me the money, we pin it on Duncan, we split the loot. By the time anyone figgers it out, I’ll be long gone.”

  “What about us?” Jack asked.

  “You’ll think of somethin’. But we cain’t do this ‘til we get closer to Oregon Cit
y.”

  Jack looked wary. “This don’t sound like a good deal to me.”

  “Too late – ya heard me say it,” Pete said. “Ya don’t do this, ya won’t like what happens to ya when we reach Oregon City.”

  Sam rubbed his jaw, glanced at his brother, then held out his hand. “Count us in.”

  “Sam, no!”

  “Quiet,” Sam sneered. “Ya never did have no backbone. ‘Bout time ya got some.”

  “But Pa …”

  “I don’t care ‘bout Pa. He settled for that woman. I want no part of her or her li’l boys. I’m gettin’ mine.”

  Jack stared at him in shock.

  “What’re ya lookin’ at?” Sam said. “’Bout time ya start thinkin’ ‘bout leavin’ too. We ain’t a couple of younguns need lookin’ after, we’re men!” He jabbed himself in the chest for emphasis. “Let Pa have his new li’l family. He don’t care ‘bout us no more – if he ever did.” He turned back to Pete. “Tell us when and where. We’ll take care of it.”

  Pete smiled. “I knew ya would.”

  Honoria lay in their makeshift bed in the back of the wagon. Colin and Harrison often slept underneath another wagon, while Jack and Sam bedded down in the third. Duncan either slept in the back of one or under it, depending on where Colin and Harrison had settled. When it was raining or cold, they put some of the supplies underneath, then everyone slept inside the wagons. Thank heavens they had three of them.

  “Are you warm enough?” Jefferson asked.

  She smiled. “I will be.”

  Jefferson cuddled closer. “Will my work never cease?”

  She laughed. Things had been peaceful the last few days. She’d taken Grandma’s advice, and now was as good a time as any to implement it. “I never did ask – how did your conversation with Duncan go?”

  Jefferson chuckled low in his throat. “It went well. Mystery solved.”

  She propped herself up on one elbow to look at him. “Mystery?”

  He put his hands behind his head and stared at the canvas overhead. “Seems your son was missing meals on account of Irene feeding him. And not just on guard duty nights. Seems the woman can really cook. Who is he to argue if she offered? She just wasn’t taking into account how much the boy ate when she did them inventories of hers. I talked to her and Wilfred afterward, and I think it’s all straightened out. Unless she forgets again.”

  She sat up. “Somehow I can’t picture Irene offering anyone anything other than an accusation.” She folded her arms, turned, and stared at him with an arched eyebrow. “She’s quite good at accusations.”

  Jefferson sat up as well. “True enough.” He leaned over and kissed her. “I’m glad you’re not still upset.”

  She picked at the loose threads of their quilt. “I was.”

  “I know,” he said. “And you had every right to be, if I was actually accusing Duncan of thievery. Which I wasn’t. I just wanted answers, is all.”

  She smiled weakly. “Jefferson, I’m sorry I didn’t listen very well. I should have trusted you.”

  He lay back down, settled himself, then tugged at the sleeve of her night dress. “Come here, wife.”

  She scooted next to him and snuggled into the crook of his arm. “I know you’re trying to protect us.”

  “Yes, and sometimes protection looks different to different folks.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He twirled a lock of her hair around his finger. “It’s like when our boys were small. I’m sure you scolded them for doing something you knew would get them in trouble, maybe get them hurt.”

  “What mother doesn’t?”

  “Exactly. Well, to the child, you’re spoiling their fun. They don’t see it as protection.”

  “I suppose not.”

  “I come down hard on Jack and Sam at times, but it’s the only way they listen. I do it to protect them – oftentimes from themselves. So if I do it to Duncan, Colin or Harrison, it’s because I’m protecting them.”

  She sighed. “But they’re not children anymore, especially not Duncan. He’s a fine young man. To think he would do something like steal …”

  “Which I found he didn’t,” Jefferson added.

  “Thank you for that,” she said.

  “Thank you for listening this time,” he said.

  “Jefferson?”

  “Hmm?”

  “I’ll do my best not to interfere. Benedict handled things differently. I’m sure Mary did too.” He sighed, bit his lower lip and said nothing. Had she struck a nerve? “We have our work cut out for us, do we not?” she continued. “Going into a new land, blending two families together and here we are in the middle.”

  His shoulders shook with silent laughter. “That’s one way to put it.”

  She repositioned herself to look at him. “I’ll do my best. I hope Jack and Sam will do theirs.”

  “I’ll see to that,” he said sternly. “Harrison, Colin and Duncan?”

  “I’ll speak with them. We’ll make this work, Jefferson. I know we will.”

  “Hopefully without any casualties,” he replied with a small chuckle. He put a hand in her hair and brought her face to his. “Now let’s get some sleep. Tomorrow’s another long day – crossing the Green River if we reach it in time. I don’t know if that’s good or not - you prefer getting wet at the end of tomorrow or the beginning of the next day?”

  She smiled. He always kept her safe on the riverbank while the wagons were crossing. Sure, she got wet on horseback, but she could swim. Some of the women couldn’t and were terrified at every crossing. “I’m sure we’ll all do admirably, whether we get drenched after breakfast or just before supper.”

  “At least there aren’t any clouds,” he said. “The only thing worse than a river crossing is a river crossing in the rain.”

  “Thank Heaven it isn’t going to,” she said with a smile.

  He kissed her then, wrapped her in his arms and, for the first time in days, Honoria knew she would get a good night’s sleep.

  My dearest Benedict,

  Jefferson said we’re about to cross a river, only we have no idea how close we are to it. All we know is that we’re bound to run across it soon. We joked last night about how messy river crossings are. I’ll get wet, I know, but I’m content with that as long as everyone gets across safely.

  Fanny Fig says things will get more dangerous at this point. She warned, as she does at every river, to let the horses and oxen drink at the bank before crossing. Mrs. Fig is a terrible gossip, but in this case what she says is true – many rivers have quicksand and if the animals stop to drink in the middle of it they can sink fast. Wagons have gone down and animals drowned because of this.

  I must say, my breakfast didn’t settle well after speaking with Fanny. But so far we’ve had wonderful blessings and no one has suffered anything too serious. Doc Waller has been kept busy with minor problems, cuts and scrapes and the odd case of heatstroke. I try always to wear my bonnet, a silly-looking thing but practical. Nothing like my favorite bonnet when we first married.

  I know at this point you’re wondering how things are going between Jefferson and I. Suffice to say things are better. A few days ago, when I felt I was fighting against him for Duncan’s sake, I found he was trying to help, not hinder. I was accusing him of something, whereas he wasn’t accusing Duncan of anything. It’s a long story and I shan’t go into it, but I was wrong.

  We passed Independence Rock some weeks back, something I should have recorded. It was a wonderful day of rest. I’m sorry I’ve not written in this diary lately. I was doing so well at first but things get chaotic in the mornings when we break camp and there’s not always time. Forgive me.

  Until next time, my love,

  Honoria

  They reached the Green River late that afternoon. The first few wagons watered their animals and crossed without incident. But Honoria saw the look on Jefferson’s face as he watched Mr. Kinzey bark orders to the people and wagons next to cross. �
�You look concerned.”

  “That’s because the current’s strong, though it don’t look it. I wonder if we should find another place to cross.”

  She noted the well-worn trail. “This is the usual crossing.”

  “Yes, but we’ll have to be careful nonetheless. We’re over halfway to Oregon City – I’d hate for anything to happen now.”

  She put her hand on his arm. “So would I.”

  He took a deep breath, sighed and nodded. “All right, then, let’s get ready.”

  Honoria climbed onto the wagon seat as Harrison mounted Duncan’s horse. She wanted to sit next to Jefferson this time. Colin, who’d been walking alongside their wagon, waved to them and headed for Jack and Sam’s. She wondered if Jefferson’s sons would be happy to see him and doubted it – they were still quiet and sullen around her and her boys. She was hoping that by now they’d have warmed up, but if anything they seemed colder. Especially Sam – Jack mostly avoided them.

  Well, Colin did tend to make friends easily and wasn’t one to back down from a challenge. Getting Jack and Sam to act friendlier was indeed a challenge.

  Jefferson got the wagon moving and guided the oxen into the water. She gripped the wagon seat and held on. The Green River wasn’t as deep as the North Platte, the last one they crossed, but the wagons lurched on the rocky riverbank. She hoped they didn’t break a wheel or axle. How horrible to get stuck in the middle of the river!

  “Easy now,” Jefferson called to be animals. “That’s it, steady on …”

  Honoria tried to look behind them but Duncan and their second wagon blocked her view of Colin, Jack and Sam. She’d have to hope for the best and trust Colin could win them over. She didn’t want Colin to be disappointed – or drowned – if his efforts went unrewarded.