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

by Kit Morgan

  “I’m glad you’re here, Mother,” Harrison said excitedly. “I wish Jefferson was too.”

  She patted his knee. “Don’t worry, my love, he’ll be behind you. He knows you’ll do a good job.”

  Harrison grinned and glanced out the back of the wagon. “Should we have raised the wagon beds?”

  “Jefferson felt there was no need. Besides, it would take too much time getting them set on the blocks correctly and whatnot.” She also glanced behind them. “I do hope nothing gets wet.”

  “Me too. Are you ready?”

  “Yes, dearest. Try not to get so excited that you fall in.”

  Harrison laughed, slapped the oxen with the lines and the wagon lurched forward. This was it. She held on as they drew closer to the river. When it was their turn, Harrison let the oxen drink before urging them further. Judging from the wagons jerking this way and that, the bank was rocky, so quicksand wouldn’t be a problem. What would was the swift current and high water. Most of the wagons ended up further downstream and not all of the far side was as accessible as the main crossing. But everyone had managed so far.

  Harrison urged the team deeper into the water, and her grip tightened. She felt like closing her eyes but didn’t dare. “All right, Mr. Sayer, take us across!”

  “Yes, ma’am!” he said with a grin.

  The wagon rocked back and forth, and she thought she heard something crack beneath it. Or was it from the wagon behind them? She twisted around and, sure enough, saw Sam smack Jack over the head as he reached for the lines. “Oh for Heaven’s sake,” she said with a frown. “Don’t tell me they’re arguing over who gets to drive!”

  “What’s that?” Harrison called over the river’s roar.

  “Jack and Sam appear to be having a disagreement,” she shouted, facing forward again. “Don’t look, dearest – concentrate on what you’re doing.”

  “I’ve seen them argue enough. I don’t need to see them now.”

  They were three-quarters across when they heard a shout and a splash. Honoria turned again, and not only was Jack gone, but Sam was falling! He landed in the water and was immediately pushed into the wagon by the current. He grabbed it to keep from going under. Honoria feared he might be crushed by one of the wheels if he wasn’t careful. There was no sign of Jack anywhere and she prayed he hadn’t been swept underneath.

  Men began to shout from both sides of the river as the wagons kept moving forward. Thankfully Jack and Sam’s team kept going on their own, pulling the wagon toward the far side.

  “What’s happening now, Mother?” Harrison asked.

  She gasped. “I don’t see Jack! And Sam’s in the water!” She also didn’t see Jefferson, who was in their last wagon – he’d put himself there in case of something just like this. She spied Duncan jumping into the river, then Colin. “Oh good Lord!”

  “What now?” Harrison shouted.

  “Keep going, darling. Get us to shore.” She didn’t want him jumping in too. Suddenly she saw a body carried by the current, Duncan swimming furiously after it. Was it Jack or Sam? “No, no, no …”

  “Mother?” Harrison squeaked.

  “Keep going!” she snapped.

  Harrison gave the team another slap of leather to urge them on. Unfortunately, the team of the second wagon had stopped, and the wagon itself was tilting at a dangerous angle. She frantically looked further downstream and saw Duncan pulling Jack onto the riverbank. “Oh, thank the Lord.” But where was Sam? And Colin? “Hurry, darling!”

  “Almost there, Mother!”

  As soon as the oxen set their feet on dry land she started to climb off the wagon seat. “Careful, Mother!” Harrison warned. But she leaped anyway. She fell, scraped her hands and knees but didn’t care, running down the riverbank, dodging rocks and brush in an attempt to see what was going on. She found Duncan on his knees next to Jack, who was throwing up water. “Oh thank God, thank God,” she whispered, scanning the river again for any sign of Colin or Sam but seeing nothing.

  A shout drew her attention as Frank Turner and Pete Smithers ran past, and she spotted Colin and Sam on the bank, unmoving. She lifted her skirts and ran after the men. Smithers didn’t strike her as the heroic type, yet here he was, patting Sam’s face in an attempt to revive him. “Colin! Sam!” she cried when she got there, falling to her knees between them.

  Sam opened his eyes and spit out water. “Thank the Lord you’re all right,” she sighed in relief.

  He coughed and sputtered some more, then nodded and glanced at Colin. “Is he?” he rasped.

  Mr. Turner took Colin in his arms and smacked his face a few times. “Colin! Come on, lad, don’t leave us!”

  Honoria’s hands went to her mouth. “No …”

  Sam sat up and put an arm around her. “He saved me,” he said in disbelief.

  Mr. Turner continued to poke and prod Colin in an attempt to rouse him.

  Colin’s mouth opened and water spewed out all over Mr. Turner. He coughed a few times and looked right at Sam. “Oh, jolly good. You didn’t die.”

  “Nope, I didn’t,” Sam managed. “Thanks to ya.”

  Colin waved dismissively. “Don’t mention it. It’s what … cough … what brothers do.”

  Sam’s eyes widened. “Yeah.” He glanced at Smithers. “’S what brothers do.”

  Pete’s eyes darted between them. “Well … the two of ya are no worse for wear. If ya can help us get that wagon outta the river, then get up. Yer stupid oxen decided to rest a spell.”

  “I’ll take care of it.” Frank Turner turned to Colin and Sam. “You two boys follow yer ma back to yer other wagons.”

  Colin climbed shakily to his feet. “I’ll help you –”

  “No, you’ll do as I say.” Frank looked down the shore and waved to Duncan and Jack. Duncan waved back and nodded.

  Honoria sighed in relief. Her boys were okay. All of them.

  “Did we lose much?” Jefferson asked.

  Honoria stood in the back of the middle wagon, now rescued from the Snake River thanks to Jefferson, Frank Turner, Henry Fig and (surprisingly) Cyrus Van Cleet, who’d apparently been a swimming champion in his youth. Now she was checking their supplies to see how much got ruined. “We lost most of our flour from here,” she stated dismally. “But we still have what was in the wagon Harrison was driving – I had it stored higher up.”

  She knew they should have raised the beds – they’d lost some cornmeal, jerky and a pillow from the two wagons that got across with no trouble. But it took a lot of time and effort to raise a wagon bed between the uprights, keep it in that position with wooden blocks between the rockers in the bottom of the bed, and square the blocks at each end. Plus, Jefferson would’ve had to figure out how deep the river was and cut the blocks to accommodate that. It would’ve meant at least a day’s delay, and Mr. Kinzey didn’t want to wait.

  Jefferson nodded solemnly. “Anything else?”

  “The dried fish is ruined, and a bag of salt.” She made her way out the back. “It could’ve been far worse, I suppose.”

  He helped her down. “That ain’t too bad. I told you we’d be all right.”

  “All right?” She laughed scornfully. “Four of our boys almost drowned today!”

  “But they didn’t,” he pointed out. “Thanks to you.”

  “To me? I didn’t do anything.”

  “You made sure Duncan and Colin knew how to swim. If not for them, I might have lost Jack and Sam today.”

  “You should be thanking them,” she said softly.

  “I will, but I wanted to say it to you too.” He drew her into his arms and held her close. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if it was you in that river.” He looked into her eyes. “Don’t get me wrong, I love my boys. But the thought of losing you …” He shook his head.

  She put her arms around his waist and held on. Would he say the words now, the ones she longed to hear?

  “I’d, uh, better go check on the boys,” Jefferson let her go,
nodded and started off. She watched him disappear and sighed.

  “Everything all right?” Grandma Waller asked as she came alongside her.

  Honoria sighed again. “Yes, thank Heaven. Everyone’s alive and well.”

  Grandma gave her a sidelong glance. “And how are you doing, child?”

  Now she did laugh. “As well as can be expected, all things considered.”

  “Which things?” Grandma prompted.

  Honoria wiped her hands on her apron. “I almost lost four of my five sons today.” She glanced at the wagon behind her. “And most of my flour is gone.”

  “Flour ain’t nothing, child – we have plenty. But your boys are another matter. Still, they all came through, and I heard your youngest did a very fine job with the wagon.”

  Honoria chuckled. “Yes, Harrison is still excited. Poor poppet can’t sit still.”

  “It was a good thing he was driving that wagon. Otherwise Duncan would have been driving with Colin. Maybe only one might’ve jumped in after Jefferson’s boys.”

  “We don’t know that,” Honoria said.

  “No, we don’t,” Grandma agreed. “Would one of them have tried to save the wagon and get it across while the other tried to save Jack and Sam? Who knows? One thing’s for sure, though – you can bet Jack and Sam will be a lot friendlier with your sons. Might even ask to teach them how to swim.”

  She laughed. “That would be an answer to prayer, Grandma.”

  Grandma Waller smiled and winked. “Remember, I’ve got flour to spare. I don’t mind sharing it with you good folks.”

  Honoria watched her go, then decided to string up a line and hang all their wet clothes and blankets. Hopefully, they’d be dry enough by the time everyone turned in. She also needed to gather some firewood. They hadn’t run across any buffalo for weeks, so buffalo chips were out of the question. But enough pine and juniper filled the landscape that finding ample wood shouldn’t be a problem. Finding dry wood might be – it looked ready to rain.

  Sam approached, his eyes on her but drained of their usual rancor. “Can I help with anythin’, Honoria?”

  She stared at him in surprise. It was the first time he’d asked the entire journey. “Why, yes, Samuel. Can you gather firewood?”

  “I can do that. And get ya what ya need to make supper.”

  She smiled as her chest warmed. “Thank you. The kitchen chest is in the back of the middle wagon.”

  He nodded, headed over, and returned in a few moments with a cook pot, a large spoon and a knife. “Anythin’ else ya need?”

  “Just the wood, thank you.”

  Sam took his hat off and twisted it in his hands. “Thank ya too,” he said quietly.

  She blinked a few times. “For what, may I ask?”

  “For … for bein’ kind. Even though I hain’t been.” He shrugged.

  She licked her lips, unsure of what to say. “I understand,” she finally managed.

  “Good,” he said. He nodded, turned and left to collect the wood.

  Honoria shook her head and glanced at the sky. “That took long enough. But only in Your time, eh?” She smiled at the clouds passing overhead, closed her eyes and sighed in satisfaction.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The days went by and the small miracles kept on coming. Jack and Sam not only helped on a regular basis, but Sam even complimented Honoria’s cooking. Honoria wasn’t going to argue whether it was due to her prayers or not. Her new family was getting along for once. Now if only it would last – she feared Sam would soon forget that Duncan and Colin saved him and Jack from drowning. Time would tell.

  Jefferson, on the other hand … “Jack, Samuel – I want to speak with you,” he said sternly.

  Honoria stopped stirring the soup she was making. “Is something the matter?”

  “I still want to know how those boys managed to land themselves in the river.”

  Honoria blanched. She thought Jefferson had spoken with them already about that. She had, and though their explanation was weak, at least they had one. Like squabbling children, they’d come to blows over who was going to drive and managed to unseat each other. That, combined with the hard rocking of the wagon, had sent each flying into the river. It was a stupid thing to do and almost cost them their lives. She had no idea if they’d said the same to Jefferson – if they did, maybe he’d just realized they’d lied to him. “Jefferson …”

  He turned to her, a hard look on his face. “Don’t protect them. I’ll handle this.”

  “Jefferson.” She tossed aside the dishrag she’d been using to hold the pot steady. “Be glad they’re alive.”

  “I am. But I need to keep them that way. These two are a bigger danger to each other than anything else.”

  She couldn’t argue with that, and didn’t. It was true and all of them knew it. Colin had the decency to keep his mouth shut and slink off behind a wagon, knowing that now was not a good time to start laughing. He and Duncan had saved their new brothers, and were of the opinion they shouldn’t have had to.

  “Boys,” Jefferson snapped. “Come with me.”

  Jack and Sam exchanged a glance, shrugged and followed their father between the wagons and out of camp.

  Harrison popped up behind her. “Mother?”

  “Oh my goodness!” She jumped. “How long have you been back there?”

  “I just got here.” He looked around. “Where did Jefferson, Jack and Sam go?”

  She retrieved her dishrag and went back to the soup pot. “Jefferson wants to talk with them.”

  “Do tell? About what?”

  “About the river.” She gave the soup a stir. “Please don’t be too amused.”

  “I’m not,” he said with a shrug. “Perhaps a day or two ago I was, but not anymore.”

  She smiled warmly. “I’m happy to hear it. But it’s a serious matter to Jefferson.”

  “I thought he already spoke with them.”

  “So did I. Perhaps he was still deciding on the consequences. And how to teach them. When you have children of your own, you’ll find you never pass up an opportunity to teach them something. At least I hope you won’t. How else will they learn?”

  Harrison’s face scrunched up as he thought about it. “True. But Jack and Sam aren’t children anymore, Mother.”

  “When you’re a parent, your children are always your children.”

  He shrugged. “Do you need any help? I know Jack and Sam have been helping …”

  “Yes,” she interjected, “and I’ve appreciated it greatly. Have they treated you and your brothers better?”

  Harrison nodded as he peered into the soup pot. “Yes, they have. Took a brush with death to do it, but I’m not arguing.”

  “Just remember to be kind, Harrison. All of you need practice at it. This transition hasn’t been easy for any of us.”

  He straightened and looked at her. “No,” he said softly, “it hasn’t.” He slowly turned and walked away.

  Had she struck a nerve? She knew her sons didn’t like her marrying Jefferson, but they would just have to live with it. That marriage had gotten them this far and would see them settled in a new land.

  When it came to fulfilling Benedict’s dream, however, she wasn’t sure how much of that she could manage. She’d brought up several times over the last few months the idea of starting a cattle ranch. Jefferson had mused over it, but he was a farmer through and through and didn’t think raising cattle was as viable. Also, while they didn’t have the capital between them to start a cattle ranch, they did have enough to start a farm. Cattle, it seemed, would have to wait.

  She hadn’t gotten up the courage to tell Duncan, Colin and Harrison that, though. She would have to, however, and soon.

  “Mrs. Cooke! Mrs. Cooke!”

  Honoria turned to see Fanny Fig rushing over. “Good heavens, what is it?”

  Fannie put a hand to her belly and tried to catch her breath. “It’s … Tommy Turner … boy’s gone missing again!”


  “What?” she said as her eyebrows shot to the sky. “For Heaven’s sake, what next? How long has he been gone?”

  “Don’t know … least an hour … according to Lucy Holman.”

  Honoria’s hands went to her hips. “Don’t tell me she lost that child again?”

  “Don’t take much with that boy,” Fanny said, looking better as she fanned herself with her hand. “I’d better go tell the rest of the folks.” And she was off again.

  Honoria sighed, gave her soup one last stir, took it off the fire and set it aside. She didn’t want it to scorch while she was searching.

  She found Grandma peeking under her own wagon when she arrived at the Wallers’ camp. “Any luck?”

  Grandma wiped her forehead as she straightened. “Land sakes, that child keeps disappearing like this, Abijah’s gonna have to treat me for a bellyache.”

  Honoria laughed. “I’m sure Tommy will turn up – he always does. You go that way and I’ll go this way.” She pointed in opposite directions.

  “All right. If you find him, you know where to take him.”

  Honoria smiled. So did everyone else in camp. Poor Tommy – his mother would have a fit. She went down the wagons, peeking under and into each one. “Not there … not there … where is that boy?” She listened for a shout that would tell her if someone else had found him, but no such luck.

  After a few minutes she stumbled into Jefferson, Jack and Sam, all three of them red-faced and Sam looking ready to explode. “I apologize if I’m interrupting,” she said, “but Tommy Turner has gone missing again.”

  “Again?!” they said in unison. At least the news erased their sour expressions.

  “I’m afraid so. Can you help me look?”

  “Fine,” Jefferson said with a shake of his head. “Jack, Sam, you know what to do.”

  “Right, Pa,” Jack said. “C’mon, Sam.” He yanked his brother’s coat sleeve.

  Sam wrenched his arm away. “I cain’t believe we gotta look for that brat again.”

  “Sam,” Jefferson snapped, “keep your opinions to yourself. Last thing the Turners need is to hear you complaining about having to look for their boy.”