by Emily Woods
4
Beth was shaking from head to toe by the time she got back to the wagon.
“What's the matter?” George asked, his brow lowering. “Did one of them Morris boys say something?”
He started to rise up from where he was seated on a chair that they pulled out of their wagon at mealtimes, but Beth held up a hand.
“No one did or said anything. It's me. Talking about those days...”
Blinking a few times, George fell silent and stared at the piece of wood in his hands.
“But it turned out well, I think,” she continued. “I'm pretty sure that Michael is going to stand up for his brother, so Hope and Gabriel will be happy.”
That had to be enough for now, she thought. It didn't matter that she wasn't happy. It didn't matter that revisiting the memories from the camp had brought back all the unpleasantness. Hope would have a chance at happiness, and that made her heart feel light.
“That Michael seems like a nice enough fellow,” George mumbled, probably to take her mind off matters. She decided to play along.
“Yes, I think so.” He was nice, and handsome too. Not that she had any business thinking about that.
“Guess I'll turn in,” George said, gathering up his whittling and putting it in the wagon. The chairs he left out for when they would have breakfast in the morning.
“I'm going to stay up a bit longer,” she replied. “Good night.”
The fire was still going strong, more for light than anything else since the night was warm enough, so Beth heated up some water to make the tea that Emma had given her earlier. It wasn't her favorite, but she knew that chamomile was good for sleeping.
Just as the water was boiling, a shape appeared near her side.
“Bit late for coffee, isn't it?”
Startled, she turned, her face pinched with alarm, but she relaxed a little when she saw it was Michael.
“It's tea,” she replied softly. “Would you care for some?”
He made a bit of a face and shook his head. “Not really a fan,” he murmured. “Uh, is it alright if I sit though?” He made a gesture toward the chair that George had just vacated.
“Of course,” she replied automatically. Even though she didn't want company, she could hardly refuse him a seat. It wasn't in her nature to be inhospitable.
Settling down in the chair, Michael folded his hands across his midsection and stared into the fire.
“Thank you, Missus Lewis.”
She flinched at the use of the title. “Could you maybe call me Beth? I don't think that it's necessary to use such formalities here.”
The corner of his mouth tipped up a little, and she tried not to notice how handsome he was when he smiled. “If you like. Well, I wanted to tell you that I talked to Henry and we've agreed to let Gabe go to Oregon City.”
“That's wonderful,” she whispered, her face lighting with joy. “I'm so glad. They're really in love.”
He looked up, gazed at her softly and nodded. “Yeah. It seems that way, but they're still young.”
“Do not let anyone look down on you because you are young, but set an example for the believers in speech, in conduct, in love, in faith, and in purity,” she quoted, her eyes focused on the fire.
Michael blinked rapidly. “What was that from?”
Beth felt her eyes widen. “Did I say that out loud?” she asked, her voice rising a bit at the end. “I didn't mean to.” She realized he was still waiting for an answer. “It's from the Bible. First Timothy four-twelve.”
“And what does it mean?”
Swallowing hard, Beth thought for a minute. “Well, I think it means that we can learn a lot from young people. Sometimes I think that the older we get, the more we forget how to live.”
Now he chuckled a little. “I hardly think you can put yourself in the category of older people.”
His laugh warmed her heart and she relaxed a little. “Maybe not in comparison to some, but I'm older than the two of them by a few years.”
Raising an eyebrow, he continued to look at her, a question between them.
“I'm twenty-five,” she murmured. “Too old to get married, and too young to be considered a spinster. It's the worst age.”
Michael didn't reply right away, but Beth didn't notice. She was lost in her own thoughts. It was hard to be single in her mid-twenties. People felt sorry for her, thinking that she'd been passed over, but no one knew the truth. She'd chosen to remain single.
“I'm twenty-three,” Michael said slowly, his eyes on her. “So I'm not sure which category I fall into, but I agree with you about young people. I admire Gabriel for his passion. I don't think I've ever felt so much enthusiasm for anything.”
She blinked a couple times and then gave him a confused look. “But...aren't you excited about going to California to look for gold?”
Sighing a little, he shrugged. “Maybe I was a little before we left, but that's just because Henry was so worked up about it. Now that you've told me what it's really like, well, I don't know if I want to go.”
Beth bit her lips a little. “I'm sorry for spoiling your adventure, but maybe it's better that you know now. It's not all that it seems.”
Michael rolled his shoulders a little and then stretched. “Well, it's too late. I can't let Henry go by himself. He's my brother, and it's not like I have something else in mind that I'd rather do.” Standing up, he nodded to her once. “Thanks for the pie you gave us earlier. It was real tasty. And thanks for sharing your story. I don't think I could have lived with myself if I'd been part of forcing Gabe to go and give up his dream.”
“You're welcome,” she murmured in reply. “Good night.”
He smiled and nodded again. “Good night.”
It wasn't until much later when she was lying down and about to sleep that Beth realized what she'd said to Michael. Bolting upright, she gasped aloud, nearly waking George. She pressed a hand to her mouth to prevent herself from making any more noise.
In a moment of weakness, feeling relaxed and safe, she'd revealed the secret that she'd sworn to keep.
She'd told Michael Morris that she was not married.
As he ambled back to his wagon, Michael mulled over the conversation he'd had with his Beth. Had she really told him that she wasn't married? Or did she mean something else? But even after considering several different angles, he couldn't fathom what else her phrase might have meant. Adding to that that she didn't want to be called Mrs. Lewis, he was nearly certain that she wasn't married to the man she was travelling with.
So, if George wasn't her husband, who was he? A boyfriend? That didn't seem likely. But what reason would they have for pretending to be husband and wife?
Then he thought about how they slept together in the same tent, and his stomach clenched. He really didn't believe that they could be living in sin, not given the fact that she'd quoted the Bible.
Finally his mind settled on the most likely answer: they were brother and sister.
He found it hard to sleep with this information roiling around in his mind, so when it was his turn for guard duty an hour later, he was still awake.
“I'm up,” he whispered to Henry who'd taken the first shift from eight o'clock to ten o'clock. The three of them rotated the first two shifts every four nights. Generally, they gave the first to Gabriel whenever it was his turn because he was the youngest. It was one of the few times that he didn't react negatively to being coddled a little, and Michael suspected that was because it gave him a chance to meet with Hope in private. He wasn't sure her father approved or even knew of the situation, but Michael wasn't about to give them away.
“Can't sleep?” Henry murmured as he passed him the rifle.
Michael shrugged. “Too much coffee, I guess.”
As he walked around in the warm evening air, his mind continued to wrestle with the lie that Beth and her brother had told everyone. He thought perhaps it was for protection. If other men knew that Beth was single, they might be cons
tantly vying for her attention. A half-grin, half-grimace touched his face. He would be one of them.
Considering her painfully shy personality, Michael thought this was the likeliest answer. George was pretending to be her husband to prevent unwanted attention. But then why did she seem so sad about being single? It didn't make much sense. And didn't the Bible say that people shouldn't lie? He wasn't very knowledgeable about the book, but he'd gone to church when he was young and remembered something about that.
Beth was an enigma for sure, and given the lack of things to do on the trip, he thought that he might enjoy quietly unraveling this particular mystery over the next two weeks or so before the parted ways. He wouldn't publicly shame her in any way, but he wanted to find out why the two of them were portraying themselves as husband and wife...just to satisfy his own curiosity. That was the only reason.
At least, that was what he told himself.
“Good morning,” Michael greeted George the next day as they started off. “Nice morning, isn't it?”
George looked over at him and nodded. “Yep. Gonna be a hot one, though.”
Summer weather was on them in full force even though it was just early July. According to Captain Holt, they were making good time despite having to wait out a couple of storms last month.
“Yeah, I think so.” Michael had given ample thought as to how to start a conversation with Beth's brother while on guard duty last night and decided that the best way was to talk about what they had in common, which wasn't much. “Your wife sure makes a good pie,” he said casually, but watched the other man's face. Sure enough, a flicker of something passed over his face ever so briefly, but the man didn’t give anything away.
“Glad you enjoyed them,” was all he said.
“Sure did. And she's mighty persuasive too, despite being such a quiet thing. I guess that's good for you, though. Most men don't like a chatty woman.”
George glanced his way, his brow lowering slightly, but he didn't reply.
“Our minds were set on bringing Gabe with us to California, but she made us see things differently. Would have been a shame to separate those two, don't you think?” He nodded over to where Gabriel and Hope were walking side by side, her mother just a few feet away. “Funny thing, though. I didn't expect any of us to find someone on the trail.”
He paused for a minute, giving George a chance to reply, but the man was as reticent as his sister.
“Not that I mind. Two men can be just as good as three for setting up a camp, I expect. And he wouldn't have been much good to us if he was pining for a girl nearly a thousand miles away. But anyway, your wife made sure that didn't happen. Guess she's a real romantic.”
Now he waited longer, figuring that the man would have to respond or appear rude. Finally, George opened his mouth.
“Guess so.”
Michael nodded, satisfied at getting the conversation going. “You sure are a lucky man, Mister Lewis. I wish I had a wife, but I couldn't find a woman who'd have me,” he said with a chuckle. “And I'm quite sure I wouldn't be able to find one who would walk across the country with me.”
George's mouth pressed into a thin line as though trying not to reveal anything. Michael thought that he might be close to getting somewhere.
“It's rare to find a wife with a good disposition who can cook,” he remarked companionably. “How'd the two of you meet?”
The question rested between them several long seconds before George replied.
“Our families knew each other.”
Michael nearly laughed. The man was good. He didn't lie, but neither did he give a single thing away.
“That's good for you, then, isn't it? So, you were neighbors then?”
A muscle along George's jaw twitched. “Something like that.”
He could see that he wasn't going to get much from him, so he thought perhaps he'd better give it a rest.
“Well, nice chatting with you. I'm going to go talk to Holt. See you.”
The relief that flooded the man's face was quite apparent, and Michael felt gratified. He was now sure that the two of them weren't married, but why they were carrying on as if they were was the real question.
“Morning, Captain,” he greeted the wagon master. “Think we'll get in fifteen miles today?” They were usually able to travel farther when the weather was good and the land was flat.
Glancing over, Holt made a low noise in throat. “Hard to say. I don't like to push when it's so hot. Could be a scorcher today, and there won't be much shade along the way until late afternoon. I'd say ten to twelve at the most.”
The captain was not unfriendly, but Michael knew that he was not given to idle chatter. Still, he figured that now was as good a time as any to get some information. They weren't likely to be subject to a buffalo stampede in the middle of the mountains, and the man had said that Indian attacks were more a fable than fact, so he carried on.
“I've been talking to Missus Lewis about going to California,” he said casually. The captain glanced at him, but didn't respond. “Her father was a gold miner in North Carolina, and she doesn't recommend it.”
Captain Holt gave a slight snort. “Don't expect that'll prevent anyone from going.”
Michael shrugged. “Maybe not, but Henry and me decided not to force Gabe to come along. Truth be told, her stories made me reconsider.” He stopped to see if the captain would reply, but again the man was silent. “But I don't suppose I'd be much of a farmer. It's pretty hard work.”
Captain Holt shot him a skeptical look. “Not harder than mining, I suspect. I'm planning on settling down in Willamette Valley myself. Gonna raise beef.”
He'd heard rumors of this already, and like everyone else, knew that the captain had some kind of relationship with Mrs. Pearson. “Yeah? Settle down, raise a family, that kind of thing?”
The captain's eyes flitted over to where Emma and her boys walked along. “Hope so.”
Michael nodded. “Sounds nice. I suppose if I had a wife, I'd do the same. Can't imagine bringing a woman to the gold mines.”
“Probably not.”
The conversation didn't seem to be going anywhere, but Michael wasn't ready to give up just yet. He decided to feign interest in the captain's plans.
“So, how much acreage will you get?”
“Government is giving out one hundred-sixty to each able-bodied man or widow, three hundred-twenty to married couples.”
He was about to ask the captain how a man could apply for the land when lightning struck his brain. Suddenly, the Lewises' ruse made sense to him. They were pretending to be married in order to get more land.
As much as he triumphed in figuring out their reasoning, he suddenly felt slightly nauseated. They were going to lie to government. If they were discovered, he was sure there would be serious consequences. The thought of Beth in jail turned his stomach to lead.
“Ah, I see. Well, I hope it works out for you,” he said lamely, and gave the man a slight nod before turning his horse around. He avoided looking at Beth and George as he headed back to his brothers feeling completely ill.
He wished he'd never poked his nose into their business, but now that he had, he felt convinced he had to make them come forth and tell the truth. Once they claimed the land, there would be no turning back. He had to prevent them from committing fraud, and he only had about thirteen days left to do it.
5
She tried to keep her eyes in front of her, but Beth couldn't help glancing at Michael from time to time, and when he came over to talk to George, she'd nearly fainted with worry. He rode beside him for several minutes, carrying on, from what she could tell, pretty much a one-sided conversation. When they stopped for lunch, she asked him about it.
“Mister Morris was very friendly with you today,” she commented. “Did he want to know something specific?”
She was unprepared for his barely concealed anger.
“He's asking all kinds of questions about you, about how we met and st
uff,” he mumbled, giving her a worried look that morphed into a scowl. “You started all this by bringing him those pies and sticking your nose in other people's business.”
Beth blinked several times in shock before tears started to form beneath her eyelids.
“I—I'm sorry,” she whispered. “I had no idea... I didn’t mean…”
But as quick as his anger erupted, it disappeared. George scrubbed his face with his hands and let out a small groan followed by a deep sigh.
“No, I'm sorry. I'm just worried, but I shouldn't take it out on you. Still, you understand now why I wanted us to keep ourselves separate from the rest of the group.”
She did understand, but she didn't regret interfering for Hope. She only regretted slipping up and telling Michael about not being married.
“I won't talk to him anymore,” she reassured him. “I'm sure it was just idle curiosity.”
Of course she was not certain of that at all. Even though she'd tried to convince herself that he either hadn't heard her comment last night or hadn't understood it, she now felt that he had and was trying to figure out what she meant.
“I hope you're right,” he mumbled, taking a bite of his bacon sandwich. “If anyone finds out...”
He didn't need to finish the sentence. If anyone found out about them, they wouldn't be able to get the three hundred-twenty acres. However, Beth was beginning to think that might not be such a bad thing…part of her was becoming increasingly uncomfortable with the pretense, but she told herself it had nothing to do with the growing attraction she felt toward Michael. Nothing would ever come of that, no matter how handsome and kind he was. She could never bring herself to trust another man again, not after seeing how they could degenerate into violent, mindless creatures with a few drinks in them.
In the afternoon, she walked close to the wagon, not even trusting herself in the company of the women who'd become her friends. She shouldn't have done that because at the end of the day, they sought her out.
