“Sure,” Gregory muttered. “I guess this means the deal is off.”
Hope glanced from one to the other, her brow furrowed. “What do you mean? What deal?”
“Andy was supposed to give me that knife if I behave myself on the trail and do my chores and don’t try to run away.”
“I see.” Hope’s cold gaze studied her son. “I’m sorry to disappoint you.”
Gregory’s face grew red. “I didn’t mean—”
Her expression softened and she reached up and took his hand. “I know you didn’t. But just the same, when we arrive in Oregon, I’ll order you a knife as close to that one as we can get.”
Gregory shook his head. “It’s okay, Ma. I don’t need one.” He slid his hand from hers and backed away. “I got chores to do.”
Andy watched the exchange and his optimism grew concerning Gregory. Perhaps the boy had the makings of a man after all. And he liked to think he might have had something to do with that change over the past weeks.
He sought Hope’s gaze to see if she recognized the boy’s step forward in maturity. The eyes that looked back at him were far from warm. They were downright frosty, in fact.
Taken aback by her hostile attitude, Andy excused himself and headed for the creek to clean up before supper. Who knew the mind of a woman? Save her from a band of Indians, lose your best knife and one of Captain Jack’s horses doing so, and she gave you the kind of look that clearly said you did something wrong.
❧
Hope waited until later, when she was safely tucked away inside the wagon, before she allowed the tears to fall. Andy had flat out told Captain Jack not to form a search party for her? That she wasn’t important enough to risk the wagon train for?
Her heart had nearly broken at his words and even now, the memory squeezed her heart.
They might have attacked and taken a lot more than just one woman. Just one woman.
Is that all I am to you, Andy Riley? Just one woman?
From the moment he’d so bravely strode into camp and demanded her release, Hope had known she was hopelessly in love. All day, she’d wanted to tell him so, to ask him if he might consider making their arrangement permanent. After all, even if he wasn’t in love with her, his kisses the night before had proven that he did care for her—at least that’s what she’d thought.
Oh, how glad she was that she hadn’t made the offer. . .hadn’t begged him to be her real husband. What a fool she’d been to think that just because a man held her close and kissed her like he meant it, that he wanted more than a simple night in her bed.
Hope swiped at the tears flowing down her cheeks and made a firm decision. Never again would she forget the arrangement. She alone was to blame for the kisses the night before.
Andy must have been picking up on little lovesick signals for days or even weeks. It was only natural he’d respond to them. But no more. From now on, she would treat him like Francis or Lucille. Just another hired hand.
Just one woman. She was just one woman in a crowd to him.
Swallowing another sob, she turned over and buried her face in her pillow.
She would never make a fool of herself again. When the time came for him to leave, she’d let him go. That was the bargain, and she’d never forget it again.
Ten
Hope and Andy settled into a silent agreement. There were no kisses, no talk of their marriage or disciplining the children. Day after day, life became about moving forward. One step and then the next and the next, with the promise that, one day, they’d step forward and their feet would land in Oregon.
The rest of the spring passed with little incident, but by midJuly, mishaps began to befall the weary band of pioneers. Wagon wheels broke, axles wore out, and almost daily, the wagon train was forced to halt for a couple of hours while repairs were made.
Stock died from the rigors of the trail or lack of water. Some were run off by Indians. Not one family among them had been unaffected by some calamity.
Water had to be rationed, and many times, a full day would pass without a drop of water to moisten parched throats. During such times, doubts assailed Hope. Had she brought her children to the wilderness to die?
The days were endless, and Hope slept restlessly at night, always fearing lest a band of marauding Indians attack while they slept. Her clothing hung from her, until she looked like a child playing dressup in her mother’s gowns. She’d become so thin, even Andy had expressed his concern.
Toward the end of July, Captain Jack announced that they were finally past the halfway point. But before their cheers had died down, the first case of cholera broke out, bringing with it swift death and constant fear.
Quickly, the disease spread, and the wagon train was halted daily for burials. In the first week, two children, one father, and the elderly reverend and his wife succumbed. Still, the wagon train buried the dead and continued on, leaving the bereft with little time to grieve. There was no time to wait out the illness. They had to reach Oregon before winter, or they might not arrive at all.
Hope bargained with God. Keep my children safe, and I’ll believe in you. It had worked once before. The first time, she’d asked for a sign and somehow she’d found herself on the trail. And if the truth be told, she wanted to believe. She needed something to believe in. Needed to know there was a benevolent God who loved her children more than she did. A God with the power to keep them safe. Alive.
She knew she hadn’t lived a righteous life—not like most of the women in the group—so she figured she’d need to resort to negotiating. She was good at negotiating. She’d gotten her trip to Oregon by bargaining with Andy. And her bargain with God had solidified it. She hoped against hope that this one would pay off for her, as well.
But it wasn’t to be. Gregory failed to show up to breakfast one morning and, with dread, Hope made her way to his wagon. She climbed inside, fearing what she might find.
He trembled beneath the quilt. “I have it, Ma.” His voice was so quiet, Hope had to lean close to hear, but she knew it was no use asking him to speak up. He had no strength even to speak.
“I guess you do, Greg.” She tucked his blanket closer about his shoulders. “But you’ll be okay.”
Shaking his head, he turned soulful eyes on her. Pleading eyes. Defeated eyes. “I’m going to die for all the bad things I done, Ma.”
Tears burned Hope’s eyes. She smoothed back his hair. Against convention, he’d been following Andy’s example and was growing it out. His blonde tresses now fell almost to his shoulders.
“Gracious, son,” she said, forcing a cheerful tone, “your hair is about as long as Andy’s.”
A weak smile tugged at his lips. He nodded. “I wish I’d been nice to him. Andy’s a good man.”
“Yes, he is.”
“I’m glad you married him.”
A sob caught in her throat and she forced it back. If she hadn’t married Andy, Gregory wouldn’t be lying here, possibly dying.
“He taught me a lot, Ma.”
She wished he’d stop talking like it was over. As a matter of fact, she was going to put a stop to it this instant. She hadn’t brought her son across hundreds and hundreds of miles to save him from thugs, only to see him die of cholera. She wouldn’t stand for it.
“Now, listen to me, young man. You are going to fight this sickness. Any boy who can sneak out in the middle of the night, carouse all night, and run from police has the gumption to lick this disease. Do you hear me?”
His eyes were closed. He hadn’t heard. Hope’s stomach lurched and her heart nearly stopped at how deathly pale he looked. She placed her hand on his chest and breathed a relieved sigh when it rose and fell.
But how many times would it do that before the ragged rise and fall ceased altogether?
“Is Greg sick, Mama?”
Panic shot through Hope at the sound of Betsy’s voice. She turned on the child. “Get out of here. Do you want to get sick?” Her sharp tone sent a wave of shock across Be
tsy’s face and the little girl retreated quickly.
Hope sat back onto the wagon floor, hands in her lap, and wept. She prayed through great gulping sobs, pleading with God for her son’s life.
The wagon lurched forward, and the new day began. Resentment burned inside of Hope. How dare they move on when Greg was sick? When her child walked a fine line between death and life.
Greg spent the day in and out of sleep. Hope left the wagon only to empty the waste bucket along the trail. The heat inside the cramped space was stifling and by the time the wagon stopped at noon, sweat dripped from her chin and stained her armpits and chest.
She glanced up dully when the canvas flap opened.
“Hope.” Andy’s voice was firm, but gentle. “Come out of that sickly air. I’ll sit with him for a while.”
She shook her head. “He needs me.”
“So do Betsy and Billy.”
Fear clutched at her. “Are they sick, too?”
“No. But you will be if you don’t take better care of yourself.” He reached for her. “Come on. At least eat a bite of lunch and have a cup of coffee.”
Hope nodded. “Just until we start moving again.”
Andy held her hand and steadied her as she climbed from the wagon. Rather than take time for a full meal, Captain Jack had instructed the travelers to keep lunch simple and eat what didn’t have to be cooked. Hope gnawed on a leftover biscuit and stared vacantly into the fire, her mind focused on her son.
“Ma?” Betsy sat next to her on the bench. Absently, Hope slipped her arm about the child’s shoulders and pulled her close.
Betsy snuggled closer. “I’m sorry for making you mad earlier.”
“Oh, honey. I’m sorry for hollering at you. I just don’t want you catching your brother’s sickness.”
Betsy laid her cheek on Hope’s shoulder. “You don’t have to be afraid. Greg’s not going to die.”
“I hope you’re right, Bets.” She stroked the girl’s braids. “All we can do is hope for the best.”
“I dreamed he was real sick, but that he didn’t die.”
“When?” Hope pulled Betsy around to face her.
With wide, innocent eyes, the girl regarded her. “Right before I woke up.”
“Today?” Hope’s pulse picked up. If that were the case, Betsy would have had the dream before anyone knew Greg was ill.
“Yes. That’s what I wanted to tell you. In my dream, you kept giving Greg lots and lots of water to drink. And after awhile he got better.”
A shiver began at the base of Hope’s spine and traveled quickly up her back. She shuddered and kissed Betsy hard on the head. “Thank you, sweetie!”
Hope shot to her feet and hurried to the wagon.
It seemed reasonable that if Greg was losing fluid from his body that he would need to replenish it. Thankfully, they’d camped near a creek for their noon stop. They could fill extra pots with water before they headed out. It might not stay cool, but it would replace the fluids he was losing. Was this another miracle brought about through the twins’ faith? She hoped so, more than she’d ever hoped for anything in her life. When she reached the wagon, she threw open the flap.
“Andy. I know what we have to do.”
❧
When Gregory emerged from the wagon weak, shaky, and pale, but alive nonetheless, the entire wagon train exploded in applause. Of all those who had come down ill, he alone survived.
In all, ten adults and fourteen children, including one newborn, had succumbed. Now, a week after Gregory’s recovery, no new cases had been reported and cholera had finally run its course and moved on.
The pioneers breathed a collective sigh of relief. And for nearly a month, it appeared the face of God smiled on them.
The distant mountains loomed before them as a promise, calling to the weary travelers, “Don’t give up. Keep coming. It’s been hard, but you’ve made it this far. Once you make the final climb, you’ll enter your valley, your fields, your rivers and streams. Your promised land.”
By early September, the breathtakingly beautiful mountains suddenly were no longer a distant goal, but a very real danger. As they ascended, jagged edges, slippery, snowcovered slopes, and near blizzard conditions made for slow going. Some days they traveled no more than a mile or two. But they pressed on, the air charged with determination. They hadn’t come this far, lost stock, keepsakes, and for some, loved ones, only to fail. The trail down the mountain was even harder. Oxen and horses were walked down while wagons were lowered down by ropes.
Along with the change in scenery, Andy noticed a change in Hope. Serenity, reminiscent of his mother, radiated from her. When the children bowed their heads to say grace, she folded her hands and prayed along with them, not by way of humoring the twins, but in sincere thanks.
Gregory, too, seemed to have found comfort in faith since his close call. There was no denying the boy had changed. He worked willingly and swiftly. His face lit with an almost constant smile, as though he had a secret pleasure. Andy almost missed the incorrigible Gregory, the one who had made Andy feel as though Hope needed him. Now the boy was downright docile. Obedient. Good. And determined to become a preacher some day.
All this change made Andy uncomfortable. He hadn’t counted on his new little family getting a dose of religion en route to their new home. Religious women made Andy nervous. Would Hope still be willing to keep to the bargain?
Now that home was only a couple of weeks away, Andy was having second thoughts about introducing Hope and the children to Ma.
Ma would take them into her heart before he finished the introductions. How could she help it? How could anyone not love the Parkers? No, not the Parkers, he reminded himself. They were his family. They were Rileys now.
“I was getting worried.”
Hope’s gentle voice broke through Andy’s thoughts. He smiled. “Our worries are over now,” he answered.
“Are they?”
Her tone held a serious note that he wasn’t sure he could address just yet. There were too many questions floating through his own mind. Questions only he could answer. So he gave her a grin and pretended she meant physical worries. “Sure they are! We’re safely over the mountains and in a few days, you and the children and I will veer away from the wagon train and head toward Hobbs, where my family lives.
“How long do you think it will take to file a claim and get our home built?”
“To tell you the truth, I have my own land already. I thought we’d build there.”
“Oh, Andy, no. I can’t take your land. You might want to build a. . .a home of your own, someday.”
Her indomitable spirit gripped him. Andy observed her face, red from the sun and wind and cold. Now that they were on the other side of the mountains the weather was mild once more, but the harsh conditions had taken their toll on Hope. “If anyone deserves that land, it’s you. I’d be pleased to give it to you and the children. I was never cut out to settle on a farm.”
She lowered her gaze, but not before Andy noticed the disappointment flash across her face.
“Hope. . .”
Looking him full in the eye once more, she nodded. “It’s all right. We had a bargain. And you have kept yours so far. I won’t try to hold you past winter.”
“But what about spring planting and harvest?” Andy’s brow furrowed.
“You were right, Andy. I asked much more of you than you received payment for.” She smiled and shame filled Andy as he remembered the night he’d tried to share her bed. She didn’t dwell on that subject, but moved on. “Between Greg and me and perhaps a hired hand or two, we should be fine.” She gave him a selfmocking smile. “If worse comes to worst, we wouldn’t absolutely have to farm. I have plenty of money to last us. And my investments in Chicago are more than secure.”
“Then why even bother? It’s a rigorous life.”
A shrug lifted her shoulders. “The Bible says hard work builds character. Or something like that.”
“Y
ou have more character than anyone I know.” The compliment flew from Andy’s lips before he knew it was coming.
“Thank you, Andy. That means so much to me to hear you say that.” She smiled and touched his arm. “But I am thinking more of my children. In the city, Greg got into trouble because he didn’t have enough to occupy him. Coming to Oregon won’t do anyone any good if I repeat the same mistakes I made in the first place.”
“Greg’s not the same boy he was when you left Chicago.”
“Thanks be to God.”
“Yeah,” Andy muttered.
“And thanks to you, too. You taught him so much.”
And it had been his pleasure. The boy was his one accomplishment, except now Hope was giving God the credit for the lad’s change in behavior.
“Well, Lucille says supper is going to be ready in just a few minutes. That’s the main reason I came looking for you.” She turned to walk back to the circle of wagons then swung back to face him. “And Andy. If you meant it about the land, I’d be proud to build my home on your land. I just need to know. . .”
Andy tensed, afraid the question might be whether or not he intended to share in their life from time to time. The question frightened him, because where he’d once known for certain that he had no intention of returning once he left, now he wasn’t so sure. “What do you need to know?”
“I just. . . Well, do you want me to pay you for the land?”
Outrage filled Andy’s chest and he scowled deeply. “Of course not. You’re my family!”
A gasp escaped her lips before he realized what he’d implied.
“A–all right, Andy. Thank you, then. We accept your kindness.”
She spun around and hurried away, leaving Andy to wonder why on earth he’d blurted such a fool thing. How had this gone from a business arrangement to the desire to provide for this family? His family.
He kicked a rock across the ground and headed in the direction Hope had taken. For the first time, he began to see the seriousness of bringing home a family to meet Ma and his brothers. They wouldn’t understand the bargain. They wouldn’t understand when he rode away.
Everlasting Hope Page 8
