by Linda Ford
Her eyes opened and she smiled like the heavens had poured into her a secret store of sunshine.
He opened his arms and she went into them. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her face to the hollow of his shoulder. “Thank you,” she whispered.
He didn’t need thanks. “I only want you to be free.”
She groaned. “How can I be free of my vow? I swore on the Bible. I can’t pretend I didn’t.”
He held her close a moment then tipped her back to look into her face. “Abby, what do you want in life?”
The way she looked at him practically invited him to kiss her but he must know she was prepared to accept him over her mother’s wishes.
She quirked an eyebrow as if reading his thoughts. “I want to be free to follow my heart.”
He dared to think the way she looked at him, she meant him. But first she had to be free.
She lowered her head so all he saw was the golden halo of her hair. “I gave my word.”
He held her but said nothing. This was something she had to figure out on her own. Otherwise she would never be truly free.
She slumped against him. “What am I to do?”
“Only you can answer that question.”
She straightened, putting distance between them. “I will go to Mother and say I have paid my price and want to be free from my vow.”
“And if she refuses?” As she most certainly would for the woman appeared to have no natural affection for her daughter.
She contemplated his question. “I pray she will release me.”
He caught her hands and brought them to his chest. They bowed their heads together and he prayed for Abby to be free of the vow she’d given in haste.
“I want to do it now, while I feel like I’m strong enough to face her.”
They retraced their steps to the circle of wagons and he reluctantly let her go alone to her mother.
* * *
Abby looked for Mother. She normally didn’t go further than her chair parked by the campfire. The campfire was dead. The chair empty. “Mother?” She called again. Perhaps Mother was in the wagon. But silence answered her. Perhaps she’d gone to buy something, though she’d been in the store with Abby yesterday and declared all the merchandise of inferior quality and refused to purchase a thing. Knowing this was her last chance for many miles, she might have reconsidered. Abby sighed. Likely she’d gone looking for Abby to make sure she didn’t wander off with someone unsuitable, like Ben.
Abby trotted back to the fort and asked at the store.
“I remember your mother. Yes, she was in. About an hour ago. Asking about you. Haven’t seen her since. ”
Abby went around the fort asking after Mother but no one had seen her for some time. How strange. Mother never wandered far. She paused by the woodpile and heard the rattle of a rattlesnake. Her heart raced and she backed away and hurried on by.
Perhaps she and Mother had missed each other and Mother was back at the wagon fretting over Abby’s absence.
She made her way back there, stopping several times to speak to others. Finally she reached the campsite. No sign of Mother. She called her. No answer. On the off chance Mother might be so sound asleep she didn’t hear her call, Abby poked her head in the wagon. There she was, curled up like she’d been sleeping.
“Mother, didn’t you hear me call?”
“It’s cold out. Put your coat on.” Mother’s words were slurred and made no sense. Had someone given her a strong drink?
The sour smell of vomit hit Abby’s nostrils. She scrambled inside. “Mother, you’re sick. And your arm.” It was swollen to the size of a melon and when Abby touched it, her mother moaned.
At the way her mother struggled to breathe, Abby knew there was something seriously wrong. She leaned out of the wagon. “Emma? Where’s Emma?”
Ben appeared so suddenly she knew he waited nearby. Waited to hear her mother’s answer to Abby’s request. Abby had forgotten it as soon as she saw her mother’s state.
“What’s wrong?” Ben asked.
“Mother is sick. Very sick. I need Emma.”
“I’ll find her.” He trotted off.
Abby didn’t know what to do apart from offering Mother water and pressing a damp cloth to her forehead.
It seemed like forever before Emma and Ben returned. Emma climbed into the wagon and looked at Mother’s arm, turned it gently. Shook her head. “Snakebite.” She pointed to the marks. “If I’d known sooner, I could have helped. If only she’d sought assistance.”
Abby stared at Emma, trying to make sense of her words. “Are you saying you can’t do anything for her?”
“Abby, I’m sorry. The poison has gone clear through her body.”
Ben reached in and squeezed Abby’s arm. “I’ll find your father.” And he was gone.
Father arrived, but Mother was already unconscious. She convulsed shortly afterward.
“She’s gone,” Emma said.
Someone helped Abby from the wagon. Someone put a cup of tea in her hands. People came by and said they were sorry. Rev. Pettygrove arrived and he sat beside Father while his wife sat beside Abby.
She barely noticed them. Barely heard the hum of conversation around her.
Mother was dead. Was this the answer to Abby wanting to be free of her vow?
Somehow she made it through the rest of the day. Because of the heat and the plans to travel in the morning, the funeral was held that evening. Abby couldn’t say if it was before supper or afterward.
“I made a simple coffin out of bits of wood people donated,” Ben said, speaking at her elbow.
“Thank you.” The words were spoken out of habit. She felt nothing.
Father thanked him, too.
Abby clung to her father as they followed the coffin, born on the shoulders of Ben and Martin, Nathan and James, to an open grave.
Rachel held Abby’s mandolin. “Abby taught me how to play. This is for you, Abby, my friend.” She played and sang “Amazing Grace.”
Rev. Pettygrove spoke a few words, none of which registered with Abby, and then the coffin was lowered into the ground. Dirt shoveled in to fill the hole.
One by one, the people filed by and spoke to her and Father. She hoped she responded appropriately for she could not think.
She and Father were alone.
“Come, Abigail. It’s time to say goodbye.”
“Please leave me. I need time.”
Father hesitated, then walked away, his steps heavy.
She turned back to the fresh grave. The hopelessness of her situation consumed her. She fell to the ground.
How long she sat huddled by the freshly turned sod, she couldn’t say.
Gentle arms lifted her. Ben. “Come back.”
“Why? What’s the use? I am forever chained to my vow.”
He wrapped his arms about her shoulders and led her toward the wagon. “Abby, you’re free now.”
“No. Don’t you see? I should have been here when Mother needed me. Instead, I was looking for a way to get out of my obligation. It was wrong. I swore on the Bible. I can never be free.”
* * *
Abby had mentioned hearing a snake at the woodpile and Ben and Martin had hunted it down and destroyed it. It might not be the snake that bite Mrs. Bingham but it was a danger, nonetheless.
Ben didn’t say anything more to Abby. She was in shock. When she’d had time to think the situation through, she’d see that her mother’s death released her from her vow. Not that he rejoiced in the fact. It would have been better by far if Mrs. Bingham had freed Abby from her promise. But would she have done so? They’d never know.
Abby would forever wonder what her mother would have said. He would have pulled her to his chest an
d held her close even in this public place but he sensed how fragile she was at the moment.
He released her to his sisters’ care. They made sure she ate and drank, then pulled her into their tent for the night so she wouldn’t be alone.
Nathan watched it all from a distance until the girls left then scooted over to sit by Ben. “Do you suppose they will go back?”
Ben’s whole body jerked at the question. He’d never considered the Binghams might turn around. If they did, he’d never see Abby again. “I can’t say.” His voice croaked like he’d burned his throat raw.
“I can.” Mr. Bingham stepped over the wagon tongue and joined them. He had left a short time ago. Ben assumed he had gone to visit his wife’s grave. “There is nothing for me back East. I will go on.” He looked toward the east and shuddered.
Ben’s breath eased out. He understood it would be hard for Abby and her father to go on without Mrs. Bingham but he was glad he could continue to enjoy Abby’s presence.
From the girls’ tent came the sound of quiet humming. Emma comforting Abby. He wished he could do something to help her but for now he must stand aside and let others do it.
He rolled up in his bedroll only because he knew he must sleep as they were hitting the trail again tomorrow, but sleep did not come easily. His mind lingered on one thought.
Abby did not see her mother’s death as an escape from her vow. Surely that was only shock talking. When the shock wore off, she’d see it differently.
How long before she realized the truth?
The sound of the morning wake-up call pulled him from a restless sleep. He hurriedly rose and waited for the girls to leave their tent.
Emma came first, her eyes swollen from crying and lack of sleep.
Ben waited. Murmurs came from the tent but neither Abby nor Rachel exited.
“Abby’s upset.”
At Emma’s words, Ben took two steps toward the tent then forced himself to stop. He couldn’t burst in and take Abby in his arms as he wished.
“Rachel’s comforting her.” Emma began preparing breakfast.
Sally joined them. “It’s got to be difficult.”
Emma nodded. “She blames herself. Says if she’d been there, her mother might still be alive. She keeps saying things like ‘I shouldn’t have tried to excuse myself. I knew it was wrong.’”
Ben stared at the tent as Sally and Emma talked about how Abby would cope.
Please, God. Let her see that she is no longer controlled by her vow.
Finally Rachel and Abby emerged and Rachel led Abby to Emma’s side. Abby sank to the ground and sat like she was carved of wood. Her red-rimmed, unfocused eyes stared into the distance.
Ben edged closer. “Abby?”
Her shudder was the only sign that she’d heard him.
He squatted at her side. “Abby, everything is going to be okay. I know it.”
She barely moved. And gave no sign of having heard him.
He closed his eyes. It would take time.
How much time?
As long as it would take. Days. Miles. He’d stand by and wait as long as necessary.
Sam, Miles and James, along with the other committeemen, approached them. They were accompanied by the little Frenchman who ran the fort.
“Ben, we need to talk.” Sam tipped his head to indicate they would adjourn to a spot outside the wagons.
Ben reluctantly rose. He patted Abby’s shoulder, felt the tension in her muscles and hesitated. But duty called and he joined the others a distance away.
The Frenchman jammed his fists to his hips. “I ’ave been robbed. My safe, he is empty.”
“Are you accusing us?”
“I saying it not happen until the wagon train, she come. My friend, the chief, he not rob me. I follow some tracks. They come dis away.”
“Ben, all the evidence points to someone on the wagon train. Like I said, once a thief, always a thief.”
“You find dis homme. You find my moneys and gives it back.” The Frenchman stalked away.
Sam stared at the wagons. “It’s certain someone among those fine people is a thief.”
James stood at his side, arms crossed. “But who and how do we find him?”
“Let’s spread out and see if we can discover anything suspicious,” Sam said.
James shrugged. “Seems unlikely we’ll find anything but it doesn’t hurt to try.” He turned to Ben. “Come along. Let’s have a look.”
In pairs, the men trooped off to inspect the wagon train.
“We could ask to look in each wagon.” Ben only wanted to find the thief, return the goods and be on their way.
“I’ve taken the liberty of looking in a few, but this thief is too cautious to leave money out in plain sight. If you wanted to hide money, where would you put it?”
Ben thought of his hiding spot. Before they’d left Independence, he’d cut away the center of a few pages of a book, folded the paper money into it and glued the pages together so it wasn’t visible to any casual examination. He wasn’t about to tell James of his secret but one thing was certain. “We’d waste hours, maybe days, looking for it.”
“I don’t think we’re going to be welcome to stay much longer.” James indicated the fort. The gates had been closed. An armed guard stood his post.
They completed their tour of the wagons and rejoined the others.
“We found nothing.” Everyone reported the same thing.
“Let’s get this wagon train moving.” Sam studied the closed-up fort. “One hour.” Sam left to attend to his own tasks.
They had a hurried breakfast and left right on schedule. Ben was glad to leave the fort and his dashed hopes behind.
Day after day, they continued on their weary way dealing with dust that clogged a man’s nostrils until he could barely breathe. They suffered rain that soaked their bedding. A sort of numbness came over the camp at the sameness of every day.
But worst was the dead look on Abby’s face. She seldom walked anymore, choosing to sit on the hard bench of the wagon, whether Nathan or her father drove.
“She never speaks a word,” Nathan reported. “Just stares at the switching tails of the oxen.”
Abby had quit playing her mandolin, had stopped reading aloud from her book. Many people said how much they missed it.
None more than Ben. He drove the Hewitt wagon and attended to his responsibilities as a committeeman. And he waited and prayed.
His lungs worked a little better the day Abby got down from the wagon and walked alongside his sisters. They chatted away to her. She contributed nothing. But it was a start.
When they stopped that night, Abby slipped away and went to see Delores Jensen.
Ben prayed the woman would help Abby understand she was free—free of her vow, free to love, free to enjoy life.
Chapter Twenty-One
Delores saw Abby coming toward her and held out her arms. Abby went into her warm embrace, letting the woman rock her and murmur comfort.
“Come sit down a spell. Annie and Betty, take the little ones to play.”
The older girls shepherded the twins away and took the two-year-old. Eddy. Though they never called him that. Only Baby Two.
Abby’s gaze followed the twins. She’d once been that free and secure.
Delores squeezed Abby’s hand. “Now tell me how things are going with you.”
“I’m fine.” What else could she say?
Delores made a sound of disapproval. “You aren’t fine. You mother has recently died, and that is a sorrow you must bear. That is understandable. But I see in your demeanor it is more than that.” A beat of waiting silence. Abby knew her friend had more to say. If she had the strength she would have changed the subject. But she couldn’t pul
l a single protesting word from her mind.
Because she wanted help to understand how she could move forward with this burden of guilt.
Delores continued. “I had such high hopes for you. I saw you with Ben and thanked God you were moving past your guilt and accepting the good things God has offered you.”
Abby shook her head. “I can’t. You don’t understand. I made a vow and meant to break it.” She explained.
“Oh, Abby-girl, I would not want my children controlled by guilt and obligation. I would not want them caring for me with those emotions. What’s more, I could not be the mother they need and deserve if I was blinded by guilt and obligation.”
Blinded. That was exactly how Abby felt.
“I want my children to love me. I want to be free to love them without the burden of guilt. The good book says ‘love covereth all sins.’ My dear, isn’t it time you let God’s love wash away all your guilt?”
“It’s not a matter of letting God cleanse me.”
“Then believe that if God removes our guilty stain He remembers it no more.”
“But I vowed on the Bible.”
Delores gave her a steady look. “Abby, did you vow to God or to your mother?”
“I swore on the Bible to take care of Mother and Father.”
“Perhaps you should ask your father if he wants you to look after him. Or don’t you want to be free of this burden you have carried for so many years?”
“Of course I do.”
“Are you sure you aren’t bearing a cross of your own making with the mistaken belief that by so doing you can compensate for the harsh things that come into your life?”
Abby stared at the fire. Was she doing that? Thinking she could pay for her mistakes by carrying a cross of her own making? Wouldn’t that be foolish, indeed, when Jesus Christ had carried a cross so she might be free of guilt and judgment?
She rose and thanked her friend. “I have some thinking to do.”
