by Linda Ford
She knew the only promise he would offer was to help guide them across the wide, lonesome plains safely to their new future.
Try as she might, she could not quench the longing within that wished he could guide her heart back to his. Back to a shared future. Back to belief in a loving relationship between a man and a woman.
Pain and regret tore at her soul and she jerked away from his watchful gaze. “Good night,” she called as she hurried to the camp.
She paused to apologize to Rachel and promise a lesson the next day, then crawled into her tent that Rachel had helped her put up earlier.
She fell on her knees, bending low to the ground. Lord, help me guard my heart. Another of the verses she and Ben had so diligently memorized sprang to her mind.
“Guard thy heart with all vigilance.”
But even the scriptures were intertwined with memories of Ben. How they had laughed together as they drilled each other. How they had shared their thoughts on each verse and spoken of how their future would be built on the solid ground of God’s Word.
She’d clung to her faith throughout the trials of the past six years. Indeed, without it, Frank would have destroyed her just as he intended to.
But she feared she faced an even greater trial in the months ahead. How would she survive when her memories haunted her?
She took three slow breaths. Memories were part of the past. She had a future to pursue. Nothing could be allowed to divert her.
* * *
The next day Ben did his best to pretend he didn’t see or hear Abby. Last night had been a mistake. He should never have followed her outside the camp. His only excuse was he meant to see that she was okay. But that excuse sounded weak even as he thought it. Then he’d gone and confessed it hurt him to think she might have lost children.
He groaned. What had he been thinking? Obviously his brain had stopped working for an hour or so.
It wouldn’t happen again.
Ignoring her would have been easier if she and Rachel hadn’t crawled in the back of the wagon for a music lesson. How could he not hear every word, every laugh? And why must they laugh so often? It made him want to join them. Listening but not being included was sweet agony.
Thankfully, the lesson ended and the girls got out to walk.
Must they stay within his sight? Was she purposely tormenting him? Yet if they disappeared, as they had yesterday, he would be concerned.
Dinner provided no relief.
While Emma went off to check on the ill and injured, Rachel and Abby chattered like spring birds as they prepared the meal.
Johnny fussed.
Sally sat at the back of the wagon trying to console the little one. “He doesn’t like being so cooped up all the time.”
“Maybe he’s well enough to be out.” Rachel looked up and down the line for Emma. “I wonder what’s keeping her.”
Ben jerked to attention. He’d been so distracted by his own internal struggle that he’d forgotten his responsibilities. He couldn’t allow that to continue and trotted off in search of Emma. He made a beeline toward the Morrison wagon. He knew, though he couldn’t say how, she was there.
Indeed, she and young Pressman had withdrawn several hundred yards. They talked a lot as she checked his wound. What would Emma have to say to a man like that?
She finished the dressing, but did she leave? No, she sat beside Clarence and they continued to chat like old friends. Emma could do far better than that. Tristan McCullough, for example. Grayson had written a glowing letter about the man who expressed an interest in marrying Emma.
“Emma, we’re waiting to eat,” he called.
The pair bolted to their feet and rushed back to the camp.
Clarence ducked his head, unwilling to meet Ben’s challenging gaze.
Ben fell into step at Emma’s side. “How’s his wound?”
“Oh. It’s fine. I just need to make sure it doesn’t get infected. You know with all this dust, it’s always a risk. And he can’t reach it to clean on his own.”
This rushed burst of words from his sister set his teeth on edge. “Mrs. Morrison could do it for him.”
“Clarence is kind of funny about people getting too close to him.”
“Except for you, I notice.” They’d reached the others, but he wasn’t done. All kinds of romances might bloom and blossom on a trip that forced them together for several months, but he wouldn’t allow this one. “Emma, watch yourself. He’s not the sort for you.”
Emma ducked her head and hurried over to the far side of the cooking fire.
Rachel, however, planted herself directly in front of him. He tried to sidestep her, but she wouldn’t allow it. She jammed her hands to her hips.
He sighed, knowing she would have her say before she was done. Might as well get it over with. “What?” The word contained a world of impatience and frustration though much of it was directed at himself, not his sister.
Rachel scowled at him. “When does Emma get to decide what she wants instead of being told by her brothers? Who are you—” she jabbed her finger into his chest “—to make her decisions for her? Can’t you see she’s smart enough to know what she wants and what’s best for her?”
He caught her hand and squeezed it. Not enough to hurt. Only enough to signal he didn’t care for her questions. Not that she’d ever let that stop her.
“You and Grayson decide she should marry this widower friend of Grayson’s. How nice for all of you. But what does Emma truly want?”
He glanced at Emma. She sat staring at her hands. “Seems it’s up to Emma to speak up if she doesn’t like things the way they are.”
“She cares too much about what you think.” Rachel tossed her hands upward to show her frustration. “You don’t even approve of a friendship with Clarence Pressman. What do you have against the poor man?”
“Nothing. But Emma deserves better.”
Rachel rumbled her lips. “Only Emma knows what she wants and deserves. Let her decide.” She stomped away.
Abby hurriedly served up the cold beans and biscuits. Her eyes darted past Ben as if afraid to become part of his argument with Rachel.
“I’m sorry.” He spoke to the entire group. “We shouldn’t have aired our family disagreement in public.”
Abby rolled her eyes. “Yes, you should have done it in the privacy of the wagon so none of us could hear.”
It took a minute for everyone to realize how impossible privacy was and to recognize Abby meant to joke about it.
Rachel was the first to laugh, but only seconds before Ben and soon everyone joined in. Well, except for Mrs. Bingham, who, so far as Ben could recall, laughed at nothing.
They ate dinner in a jolly mood and were soon on their way again.
Feeling considerably better, Ben left Emma and Rachel in charge of the wagon and rode his horse from wagon to wagon checking on each family.
Several more children and one adult had come down with the measles. So far, thank God, none of those afflicted had suffered too badly. Emma had said Johnny could leave the confines of the wagon. Ben wasn’t sure who was happier, Johnny or Sally.
His thoughts shifted to a problem that hadn’t been resolved. Several of the committeemen complained of missing items and were convinced there was a robber in their midst.
Sally eagerly joined those walking and the others took turns carrying the baby until he grew tired and settled in the wagon for a nap.
Ben completed his rounds, checking on the travelers and returned to the Hewitt wagon. Sam had warned them they would reach the Kansas River today. Ben did not like river crossings and the dangers they posed, but there was no other way to cross the Great Plains.
The lead wagons had reached the banks of the river and Ben rode ahead to assist in the crossing.
The river was too high to ford. He and the other committeemen gathered to consider their options. A Frenchman named Papin had a crude ferry and they approached him to ask if he could take the wagons across, but after some wrangling they could not come to an agreement on a reasonable price, so they decided to build their own ferry.
Ben watched Sam and knew he was concerned with the delay required to make a suitable conveyance.
But what choice did they have? Most of those present would lack the funds Papin had demanded. So Ben joined those selecting two trees to cut down and make into canoes. He spent the rest of the afternoon helping hollow out one of the trees while several others tackled the second one. He stopped only to eat hurriedly.
Martin sidled up to him. “There’s some unrest. Some of the families are willing to pay Papin to cross. They aren’t happy with the delay.”
Ben downed a dipper full of water. “Our ferry will be ready by this time tomorrow.”
“How many wagons could be across in that time?”
“Are you among those wanting to pay Papin?”
Martin chuckled. “Even if I had the funds, I don’t much care for the man’s attitude. Even worse, I had a look at his ferry. I have my doubts it’s as good as he claims.”
“I agree. Why don’t you go up and down and tell the others of your observations. I’d do it, but I need to see to the building of the ferry.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Ben grabbed another biscuit.
Abby watched him. He allowed himself to meet her gaze.
“Be safe,” she murmured.
He nodded, unable to find his tongue to respond.
Rachel played with Johnny. The baby gurgled, bringing Ben’s attention to him. Freeing him from the power Abby held over him with her steady gaze.
“Thanks. I plan to be.” He hurried back to his task unreasonably buoyed by Abby’s words.
He worked until dark. Then they lit bonfires and continued. The men took turns, spelling others so they could each catch a little sleep.
By morning, the canoes were ready and the men began adding planks to make the platform. By noon, it was ready to go.
A crowd gathered on the bank of the river as they launched the ferry. It teetered to one side then righted itself and floated.
A cheer went up.
“Who’s to be first?” Sam Weston called.
The crowd grew silent then a low rumble came from them.
Ernie Jones glowered at Ben. “Seems no one wanted to be the first on an untried ferry.”
“I will.” Miles Cavanaugh volunteered and drove his wagon onto the floating platform.
With men poling it to keep it straight, they made it safely to the other side. Now everyone vied for a place.
“We’ll go in an orderly fashion,” Ben said.
Again a grumble of complaint. Then a number of wagons pulled out.
“They’ve made an arrangement with Papin,” Martin said.
“I wish them well.” Ben had too much to do guiding wagons and animals and people over to try and dissuade them.
Sam Weston watched. “The faster we get this bunch over, the sooner we can be on our way.”
Ben couldn’t argue with that. He only hoped they’d be safe.
Martin informed him the Jensen family had joined the exodus to the Papin ferry.
Ben paused to look for Abby. She’d sat on the bank all afternoon watching. He’d been aware of her gaze even when he was otherwise occupied. Be safe. Her words made him both cautious and bold in his actions.
Abby looked up the bank toward the other ferry. “I pray they’ll be okay.”
Likely she felt a strong connection to them because of the twins.
He wasn’t surprised when she headed toward the other ferry to watch. At least she would be safe on the bank watching them.
His insides knotted as she hurried away. He’d feel better if she stayed back with his sisters where he could see her.
Only because he wanted to make sure she was safe...that all of them were safe.
His concern was unfounded. Nothing could happen to a spectator. He turned his attention back to the next wagon and did his best not to glance in the direction of the other ferry every ten seconds.
Chapter Ten
Before they even began the journey, Abby feared one thing more than any other. River crossings. There’d been no end of tales of people drowning in the treacherous rivers.
She stood on the banks of the Kansas River running full and turbulent. She shivered at the rushing roar of the water. Her only consolation came from the knowledge that Ben had overseen every step of the construction of the ferry. Miles Cavanaugh had been the first to use it and showed no fear. Since then many more had crossed.
Yes, it looked frightening, especially when the current caught the ferry and threatened to take the whole affair downstream. But the men seemed to know what they were doing.
Once the ferry had tipped dangerously as it twisted in the river but Ben had managed to steer it right. Her attention had been glued to the bulge and swell of his muscled arms, clearly visible with his wet shirt plastered to his skin. He was one of the bigger men on this trip and put his size to good use in the river.
Watching him, she’d pressed a hand to her heart feeling it thud with a combination of excitement and—
Something she would avoid admitting but the word could not be refused. A claiming sort of admiration. As if she had some right to admire him.
She didn’t. It was foolish to think otherwise. So she welcomed the diversion of following the wagons that had opted to use this Papin fellow’s ferry.
Not that escaping the necessity of watching Ben was the only reason. She wouldn’t feel at ease until she saw the Jensen family had crossed safely. It didn’t make sense, but she felt a strong need to protect the twins. Perhaps knowing they were safe would somehow ease the loss of her twin. No one would understand her way of thinking. She wasn’t even sure she did.
She reached the other ferry just as the Jensen wagon boarded and she waved to the twins who peered out the back of the wagon. The older girls each clutched one of the little ones and peered out the front. Mrs. Jensen held the reins while Mr. Jensen stood beside the oxen, holding them so they wouldn’t bolt.
The ferry left the shore, floating like an ark upon the waters. The twins continued to wave.
The current caught the vessel and twisted it about.
Abby caught her breath. But she’d seen this happen before and the men had turned it right.
This time, despite the frantic efforts of the men, this ferry did not turn. Water came up over one corner. Her lungs locked tight.
Mrs. Jensen yelled at the animals. They strained toward the highest corner. But it was too late. The wagon tipped.
The twins slipped out the back and into the river as the wagon slid into the water. She blinked. It had all happened so suddenly she could almost believe she’d imagined it.
“No,” she wailed, her voice lost in the hubbub of men rushing to save the wagon. She glimpsed Annie, her face white as flour then she strained to see where the twins were.
She could taste the fear in her heartbeat as she searched for them. They weren’t in the river. Someone must have plucked them to safety. But no one held either of the twins.
Where are you? Whether or not she called aloud, she couldn’t say and it wouldn’t have made any difference. No one would have heard her above the shouting.
There. She saw a little blond head bobbing downstream and raced down the bank.
There was the other. Oh, thank God. Please don’t let them drown. A wooden yoke floated by.
“Grab it.” She’d never yelled so loud in all her life. Whether or not the children heard her, they grabbed the wood and h
ung on as the current dragged them onward.
Abby raced up the bank until she caught up to them. “Swim for shore.”
They thrashed about, putting them in danger of drowning but made no progress toward the bank. The current held them in its grip.
“I’ll get you.” She dived into the river. The cold water stole her breath. The current was fierce, but she used it to her advantage and swam after the children. She caught up to them and grabbed the yoke, taking a minute to catch her breath.
Tears streamed down Cathy’s face. “I’m scared.”
Donny’s eyes were wide enough to swallow his face.
“You’ll be okay. I’ll take you to shore.” She tried pushing the yoke as the children clung to it but the unwieldy wood refused to leave the current. She was a strong swimmer but she fought the river and the weight of her sodden layers of clothes.
She glanced toward the bank. Why had no one else come to help? A look over her shoulder gave her the answer. Everyone continued to help with the Jensen’s wagon. Had no one else seen the twins fall into the river?
Please help me. Please give me strength. She’d need one arm free to swim. That meant she could only take one child at a time. Every heartbeat seared her veins. How would she choose?
Cathy sank lower in the water.
Abby grabbed her. “Hang on.” Donny had his arms over the yoke. Hating to pick one over the other, yet knowing Donny had a better hold on the yoke, she grabbed Cathy under her arms. “Relax and let me pull you along.”
Her gaze lingered a painful moment on Donny. “You hang on and I’ll be back to get you.” She turned toward the bank, paddling against the current but the shore did not get any closer. She was being sucked under. From deep inside, she found the strength to fight but all she could do was keep herself and Cathy’s heads above water. “Help. Help.” Where was everyone? Where was Donny? He and the wooden yoke had disappeared, swept away by the rushing waters.
“Lord, save us.”
* * *
“Ben!” The urgency in Rachel’s voice jerked his attention to her so fast he almost lost his footing on the wet wood of the ferry as it approached the bank of the river.
