by Emily Woods
Tommy didn't reply, but Jeremiah could feel the younger man's eyes on him, evaluating his reply.
“If you say so, boss,” was all he said as they finished loading the last crate. “But this is going to put a strain on the horses, you know.”
“It's fine,” he responded dismissively. “They can handle it. Well, it's about time for you to turn in. Last night before doing guard duty. Might as well enjoy it.”
Starting from the next day, each capable man would take turns standing guard for two hours at a time, he and Tommy included. Strangely enough, it was one of his favorite jobs. As the people settled down for the night, the land took on a quiet that was like no other. The only sounds were from animals and the wind. It was one of the few times he felt truly at peace, connected to...something.
“Hope you can sleep,” Tommy replied. “See you in the morning.”
Jeremiah grunted a little and secured the wagon. It was no secret that he suffered from sleeplessness. Having grown up destitute, he never felt at ease, especially not in the night when darkness covered everything and people were at their most vulnerable. He could sleep in the daytime no problem, but sleeping in the dark had never been easy. That was another reason he enjoyed the nighttime watch. He usually took the fourth watch of the night, from two o'clock to four. He knew it was the worst one and didn't want to impose it on anyone else except for Tommy, who took it every other night. Also, he didn't want to give another man the responsibility of waking up the others. If they fell asleep, it ruined the whole day.
As he lay in his tent, Emma's face jumped to his mind. Her inner strength might have been what drew her to him first, but her honesty over her cooking and her sweet smile had him nearly spellbound. He had to be careful not to let her know how much power she had over him. After all, how well did he know her? She might very well be the type of woman who would take advantage of him and then offer nothing in return.
Sighing, he rolled over and adjusted the blanket to cover him. His heart continued to beat heavily inside his chest, but there was nothing more he could do tonight. Tomorrow, he would tell himself to be careful.
He hoped he would listen to himself.
The sound of a gun being shot caused Emma to sit straight up in alarm and stare wide-eyed into the darkness. Both boys cried out as the sound woke them as well. They clung to their mother and whimpered.
Then Emma recalled what Captain Holt had said to her. This was their wake-up call.
“It's okay, boys. The sound just means it's time to get up.”
Robbie recovered first. “That was loud!” he exclaimed with a shiver of excitement in his voice. “Is he gonna do that every morning?”
Emma nodded, forgetting the darkness was covering her actions. “Yes, he will. That's what Captain Holt told us yesterday.”
Fumbling around, she managed to light the lantern and helped her boys get dressed.
“It's so dark out,” Jacob complained. “How am I supposed to find my way to the bathroom?”
“We'll go together.” Emma finished getting them ready and led them out of the tent. As she tried to find somewhere private for them to take care of their business, she saw the others getting out of their tents with lanterns in their hands. The sky was pitch black, save for a few stars peeking out from behind the clouds. The moon was nowhere to be seen.
“Good morning, Missus Riley,” she greeted the preacher's wife.
“And to you to, my dear. But won't you please call me Grace? I’d like to think that we will become fast friends.”
Emma's eyes well with unexpected tears. “If you'll call me Emma,” she returned.
They smiled at one another and a look of understanding passed between them. Although they were in different situations, Emma could recognize a kindred spirit. Grace Riley hadn’t had an easy life either, she’d be willing to bet.
Once her boys were finished, she led them back to their tent and encouraged them to rest while she got breakfast started. Thankfully, Grace had given her tips on how to bake the bread in the Dutch oven. It was tricky for her, considering how little experience she had with cooking in general.
She had no intention of letting anyone else know, but she'd never cooked a meal in her life until her husband passed away and her in-laws abandoned her, leaving her practically penniless. Only through the sale of her house had she been able to afford to buy the supplies and pay Captain Holt his fee. She'd also bought six cows to bring to Oregon, but knew there was a possibility only half of them would make it there, God willing for that much.
“Smells good,” Captain Holt commented as he neared the fire. “You seem to know what you're doing with that.”
“Missus Riley showed me,” she admitted, still referring to the woman respectfully to him. “I have no idea what you'd be eating without her instruction.”
He studied her a little. “Never baked bread in a Dutch oven before then?”
“No,” she answered truthfully, not adding that she had never actually baked bread ever. Even after Norman had died, she still bought her bread from the local bakery, never mind that it had cost so much more than making it. She figured the boys would starve if they had to eat only whatever she could muster.
One of her biggest regrets was not asking her former cook for some basic instructions before she had to dismiss the woman due to lack of funds, but the thought had just never entered her privileged mind.
“So, I owe her some thanks then?” Jeremiah asked, bringing her back to the present.
“Who? Oh, yes. This is a lot trickier than I would have imagined. However, in two hours’ time, you'll have fresh bread.”
It was still a little before five, so they had time to let the bread bake. It wouldn't just be their breakfast, but their lunch as well.
“I'm looking forward to it,” he replied, tipping his hat and striding away.
Emma didn't mean to watch him leave, but there was something in his easy gait that caught her eye. The man seemed so comfortable in his skin, so relaxed and pleasant to talk to. And not too hard to look at either, she decided.
Heat seeped into her cheeks, and she was glad for the cover of darkness, although there was a slight lightening of the sky that indicated sunrise was not too far off. “What are you doing thinking about a man when your husband is barely cold in his grave?” she muttered to herself.
Sighing, she pounded the dough over and over again the way Grace had explained and tried not to think about Norman. It had only been three weeks since he passed, but it felt much longer. She'd quickly gotten accustomed to life without him and found herself smiling more. The boys were still sad from time to time, but neither of them seemed too devastated over the loss of their father. They'd barely seen him, and when they did, he didn't have a lot of time for them. However, they had witnessed his temper on several occasions.
“Did God take Father away because he was bad?” Robbie had asked her at the funeral. The question had startled her so much that she couldn't form an answer. However, Catherine, her mother-in-law, had overheard and pounced on the boy.
“How dare you say such a thing?” she'd nearly shouted at him. “Norman was a wonderful man, a good husband and father.” She'd turned her icy blue eyes on Emma. “You need to teach your son some respect.”
The woman’s friends had led her away, but not before shooting judgmental looks at Emma and her boys. In that moment, Emma knew she wouldn't be able to stay in Kansas City for long. The very next day, she'd set out to explore her options and found out about the wagon train going to the West.
With determination in her heart, Emma had made plans to move her family away for good, and for their good.
“Please, God,” she whispered as the wagon train started to move west. “Let it be for our good.”
4
The weather on the first day of the journey was mild, something Jeremiah always took as a good omen. Although he didn't believe in God specifically, he found himself being grateful when things went well. And today was such
a day.
From atop his horse, Jeremiah had the best vantage point of the entire train. Other men rode their horses too, but he'd told them to stay near their wagons. He alone circled the wagon train, making sure everything was as it should be. If he needed any assistance, he'd ask for it.
When he got to the back of the train, he smiled. Four astride, the wagons made a pretty picture as they traveled. He knew that some masters drove the wagons in a single line, but that was a mistake. People had to eat too much dust that way. He preferred that they ride this way, each set of wagons taking turns being at the front, to be fair to everyone.
“Captain Holt!” a strident voice called out. “Captain Holt!”
He nudged his horse, simply named Rider, in the direction of the voice.
“Hey there, young man,” he greeted Robbie, Emma's youngest. “What's the matter?”
The boy walked alongside the wagon, just as the other women and children did. Sitting in the wagon was too uncomfortable with all the bumping and jostling. The only time they might climb in with their belongings was if the weather turned bad.
“How long are we going to walk?” he asked, his face slightly pained. It was then that Jeremiah noticed the boy had a slight limp.
Frowning, he looked at Emma. “Is he hurt?”
She shook her head. “No, he'll be fine.” A look of steely determination rested on her face. When Jeremiah continued to stare at her, frowning, she sighed and shook her head. “He was sick a few months ago. He recovered, but one leg is a little weaker than the other. The doctor said he's lucky.”
Looking down at the boy, Jeremiah saw that one leg was slightly thinner than the other. He'd heard of this sickness before, but not for a long time. His grandmother had it and although she recovered, she'd walked with a pronounced limp for the rest of her life.
“You didn't declare that when you filled out the form,” he rebuked her lightly. “I asked if anyone had any special conditions.”
Her face changed from determined to grim. “I knew you wouldn't take us if I told you.” She looked up at him beseechingly. “Please don't make us go back. I need to leave, and this is the only way.”
Jeremiah didn't know what to say. If he allowed her to continue, it would set a bad precedent, but how could he turn her away? His heart softened measurably when he looked down at the small boy, his face screwed up as though he was fighting not to cry.
“You know what? I need a helper. An extra set of eyes is always a good thing, but it's hard to see anything from down there. Come on up here with me.”
He held out his arms for the boy, and Emma, propelled more by shock than understanding, picked him up and handed him over.
“I—I... Thank you,” she whispered. “I'm sure he'll improve as we travel. He's so much better than he was a month ago even.”
“I believe you,” he answered, giving her a little nod. Even though he hadn't acted with the intention of making her indebted to him, he realized that was probably going to happen. Still, he refused to let himself dwell on that. He wanted her to accept him as a husband because he was right for her. His own parents had married out of convenience, and he was a first-hand witness of what a tragedy that was.
No, he would earn her affection, but not through manipulation. This current situation would likely endear him to her, but he would earn the right to ask her to marry him.
“You have a nice horse,” Robbie complimented. “Can I pet him?”
Jeremiah chuckled a little. “Yeah, sure. Just don't lean forward too much. Can't have you falling off.”
Robbie reached out a small hand and patted Rider's neck. The horse whinnied a little in response.
“Does that mean he likes me?”
A smile tugged at Jeremiah's mouth. “I think so.”
To his credit, the boy didn't squirm much even though Jeremiah knew he couldn't be that comfortable. The saddle was meant to carry one person and didn't allow for even a small child.
“Keep your eye out for buffaloes,” he murmured. “We need to be careful in case there's a stampede.”
“Why?”
Jeremiah hadn't had much contact with children, but he knew they were terribly inquisitive. He didn't mind. Answering questions kept his own mind sharp.
“If we get in their way, we could be crushed. But don't worry. It's never happened to me.”
Robbie nodded solemnly and then began dutifully scanning the horizon for the threat. Again, Jeremiah chuckled. Little did he know it, but taking Robbie on as an assistant was going to prove highly entertaining.
Emma had to keep swallowing hard to push down the lump in her throat. The sight of her little boy enveloped in the strong arms of Captain Holt made her want to cry. When had any man been so mindful of her child? Not his own father, nor his grandfather. They'd both been intent on making a man out of him, not coddling him, even after he’d gotten sick. But here was this extremely masculine man showing the greatest compassion.
Her heart welled up with an unfamiliar emotion. It took her a while, but she finally identified it as overpowering gratitude. When was the last time she'd felt this way about another human being? She couldn't recall. For much of her life now, she'd had so much and taken it all for granted. Then, in marrying Norman, she'd had so much taken away. Externally, she seemed like the luckiest woman alive. Not only did she have a lovely house and an enviable wardrobe, but she also had a handsome and seemingly devoted husband.
No one knew what Norman was like in private. He didn't abuse her physically, well, not often anyway, but he constantly demeaned her and crushed her spirit. If she voiced the tiniest complaint to anyone, her mother or her friends, they would criticize her and tell her she was spoiled. So, she kept everything inside and learned to expect nothing from anyone.
“Are you okay, Mama?” Jacob asked. “You look sick.”
“No, love,” she quickly replied. “I'm fine. How about you? I'm sorry that you have to walk when your brother is getting a ride.”
He shrugged a little. “I'm fine. I know Robbie isn't strong, so he should get a ride. Besides, if I was stuck on a horse, I wouldn't be able to hang out with my new friends.”
Now the tears did surface at his good attitude, but she covered them by turning her head and pretending to cough, wiping her eyes in the process.
“I think I need some water,” she said, her voice cracking a little. “How about you?”
He nodded, took the canteen from her, and sipped. When she took it from him and gulped, he frowned. “We have to ration our water, Mama,” he informed her seriously. “Captain Holt said so.”
That wasn't the man's precise wording, but her heart swelled up again to the point of bursting and she realized something important. She had experienced immense gratitude recently...to God for her boys. She praised Him silently and ran a hand over her son's head. He was growing quickly, but he was still young enough for her to show her affection without embarrassing him.
“Yes, my son. You're right. I'll be mindful of that from now on.” She didn’t correct him by saying that Captain Holt had actually advised them not to drink too much because it would slow them down. They would be following one river or another for most of the way, enabling them to have access to water.
The horizon stretched for miles in front of them with only a few trees and shrubs to break it up. Were they really going to walk for over a hundred and fifty days like this? It was hard to fathom, exhausting in fact, but she would do it for the sake of her boys.
However, when it came time to break for lunch, her feet were aching so much that she removed her shoes and waded into the river. She didn't care about preserving her dignity and suspected that a number of the other women would have done the same except that their husbands likely forbade them.
“Can we come in too?” her boys asked. She nodded, telling them first to remove their shoes.
The cool water felt good and she hated to put her shoes back on, but lunchtime meant food preparation, even if it was just bacon
from the morning pressed between two slices of bread.
“Did the water feel as good as it looked?” Grace Riley asked when she returned. Emma wondered if the comment was meant to scold.
She and Grace had chatted a little as they walked, their wagons abreast of one another. Even though the preacher's wife was kind, Emma wondered if she would judge her for the liberties she took.
Hanging her head slightly, she nodded. “I hope it wasn't too shameful of me.”
“Oh, my dear, I would do the same if I could, but I have so many to feed, and well, as a preacher's wife...”
“You have to set an example. I know.” She sighed and turned to the task at hand of preparing lunch. Again, Grace pointed out how to use some of the grease from the bacon to soften the bread. By the time Jeremiah came over, she had a number of sandwiches ready.
“You should break out some of the pickles,” he directed. “I also have some dried fruit.”
The deal was that she would prepare his meals, but he would supply the materials for himself. She wasn't sure if he was telling her to help herself to his supplies or if he meant for her to take from her own.
“Thank you, but we can't eat from your provisions,” she murmured, ducking her head as she handed him a tin plate with a number of sandwiches stacked on it. She also filled a tin cup with water from the bucket he'd brought over from the river.
“Well, the way I see it is that we can just join our supplies together. I don't expect it'll make much of a dent in mine. Your boys aren't quite big enough yet to eat their way through my food. Now, if they were teenagers...”
He was joking around with her. It felt nice to have a man be so kind, but it also put up barriers. No man was this kind for nothing...was he?
Since Jeremiah and Tommy shared their supplies, she also made sandwiches for the younger man. When he picked the first one up, she noticed a faint flicker of concern pass over his face.
“Something wrong?” she asked, working to keep her voice from sounding defensive.
