Snapped out of her musings, she shook her head. “Not just yet, I'm afraid.” Marie decided to clean up her mess. She placed her dishes in the pail and lay handkerchiefs over the duo's meals. “I may have to miss the entertainment tonight, so go on and enjoy.”
They ran off, the boy yelling over his shoulder, “Tomorrow for sure!”
She waved, “For sure.” The little group disappeared among the wagons. She sighed, already hearing the music. Marie rummaged in the wagon for her sewing, figuring she might as well accomplish something in the waning light. The sun set in a clear, but dusty sky, giving her an orange glow in which to work. The mending from various brush snags needed the attention she’d been giving the nightly gatherings. After spotting all the repairs to do, Marie sighed, thinking it just as well the other Warrens kept her waiting here.
“Hello, my darling.”
Marie looked up when Charles and his sister joined her at the ebbing fire. “Hello. I’m glad to see you.”
Hester pulled back one of the napkins covering a dish, her nose wrinkling at the food. “You might have waited until we were here to begin cooking. This looks terrible.”
Glancing down at her work, she didn’t want the irritation to show in her expression. Marie had no sympathy for either of them. They knew by now when mealtimes were. “I have to admit everything looked and tasted better earlier.”
“I see you didn’t wait for us before eating your dinner.”
“No, I had mending to do and wasn’t sure if you two dined with someone else.”
The subtle reminder of how often the twins ate their evening meals with another family without informing Marie quieted Hester. Now, she ate her food, casting sullen looks at Marie whenever she glanced up.
Disliking the tension, Marie introduced a happier subject. “Everyone is saying we will reach Independence Rock before July 4th. We may find our new home sooner than expected. Isn’t that exciting?”
Hester grunted a humph while Charles held a bite of fish over the fire. “Don’t get too excited,” he said. “We have to have our home built first. Nothing is waiting for us out in the wilderness just yet.”
She paused her sewing. Even now in late June, the high altitudes kept her feeling frozen most of the time. Some days, only the promise of a roof and walls kept her moving west. “Where will we live?”
He gave her a scathing look. “Oregon, of course. What have we been talking about for the past two months or so?”
“Have you learned nothing since we left home?” As if to a child or slow adult, Hester continued, “We are traveling to the Oregon Territory for land and to capitalize on new industry out west. We’ve sold everything in Louisiana and have the money ready for new investments.” She turned to Charles. “How many more times do we need to tell her?”
Marie took a deep breath trying to be calm. “I know all that, of course. However, I’ve never heard if you have a particular place in mind. I'd like to know if or when we'll arrive at a real home with a real bed.”
Hester stood, tossing her dish and cutlery in the pail with a clatter. “Of course, he has a place in mind, don't you, Chas? He wants to settle us in Oregon City.”
“How long will we live there?” Marie asked. She took her husband’s dishes from him and put them in the pail after her sister in law’s.
Hester laughed. “How long? You’re full of smarts today. I thought you’d have better sense than this. We're not making this trip again.”
“No, we're not, unless it's to visit family,” her husband added. Charles stretched his legs and relaxed by the fire while the two women set up the beds. “I expect to do so well at farming and shop keeping in the territory that we'll be able to find passage on a steamer to the Isthmus, across, and then to our New Orleans whenever we choose to visit.”
Marie struggled to keep from frowning or arguing. Prior discussions about her husband’s expectations in the new land had led to horrible rows with Hester taking his side every time. Charles knew very little about either farming or running a store. She’d learned a little from her father on the plantation, yet relied on their slaves to work the land. Marie wondered if Oregon Territory allowed slavery. Even so, they couldn't afford a simple serving girl now, never mind the men needed for plowing and such. Learning everything possible to help him make a living at their destination seemed something she needed to do before they reached Oregon City.
Animals and people rustled around their campsite. During the two months on the trail, she’d learned how to block out the nocturnal sounds. She waited until Charles slid under their blankets before settling in close to her husband. Marie liked this time of night between dozing and sound sleep the best. Charles, almost asleep himself, didn't seem to mind her touch. She snuggled close to him, enjoying his body's warmth. He smelled like sunshine and a little sweat, but not overly so. The scent of honest work clung to his skin, despite the probability he'd only done minimal labor earlier.
Her drowsy mind drifted to Samuel. She loved her husband, a fact the charming Mr. Granville wasn't going to change. Marie smiled. Still, he was very easy on the eyes. She’d thought so from the first time they’d met. His eyes, legs, hair, mouth; everything about him tripped her triggers. Her cheek resting against Charles, she smiled, remembering how the other man smelled like leather and starch, the latter from his ironed stiff shirt. How he kept it white in the camp's dust was a mystery. Maybe he had a gaggle of washerwomen obeying his every order. She almost laughed, imagining a herd of females all batting eyelashes at him while scrubbing his clothes. It's a wonder the man wasn't already married several times over. Her eyes popped open at the notion. Married? Mercy, she thought, Samuel was probably married for sure. A gentleman such as him must be. Her cheeks burned in embarrassment. No wonder he refused her kiss. She wondered how to tell him she’d only needed an honest opinion, not an affair.
Yet, a shiver swept through her. She suppressed a sigh of disgust with her body's desire. Guilt nudged her insides. No, she’d not needed anything from him. Since seeing the flash of hope in his eyes at the saloon, Marie pushed aside any answering desire in her body. She’d spent sleepless nights wondering the outcome if he’d indulged her request. Her conclusion circled back to his refusal was for the best.
She knew her feelings for Sam already ran too wild. Hester had blathered to Charles on and on about setting her cap for Samuel had he been even a few years older. Every time she said his name, Marie grew more irritated with her. For her to carry on for such a younger man was unseemly, she thought. Sam had his pick of young and pretty women. Neither word described Hester.
Smirking, she thought of the haughty looks her sister in law gave her daily. Hester could want Mr. Granville all she liked. Wishing on an outcome wouldn't make it so. When a man didn’t desire her, nothing a woman did changed his mind. Marie learned this for herself less than a year after marrying Charles. She snuggled closer to him, enjoying how warm he felt in her arms. He’d been so kind to her all these years. With just a little bit of passion and a lot less of his sister traveling with them, he’d be perfect.
Early next morning, she cuddled her tin cup of coffee. The sun struggled to shine on a cloudless and frosty day. Her eyes didn’t want to stay open. She took another long drink of the cooling liquid. She’d spent most of the night unable to sleep. Marie tried first to think of those sick in their company, then the various gossips, and even pondered how long they had before Indians attacked. All this did nothing to end her thinking of Samuel.
Now at the end of her drink, Marie sighed, and still drowsy, she checked for more coffee. None remained, and the last of their buffalo chips burned low. She glanced at Hester, surprised the other woman still loitered near camp. The woman always disappeared when the chip gathering chore needed doing. Charles didn’t seem to know or care. He was always off taking care of the oxen when his sister slipped away. Despite knowing the answer, Marie asked, “Hester, do you think we could gather chips after washing up breakfast dishes? We will need more
for noon, and two makes the work go faster.”
“You’ll have to excuse me.” After standing, she gave her cup to Marie. “I have things to do this morning that helps Charles. Doing your work for you will take too much time.”
She smiled, gritting her teeth at the other woman’s haughty tone. “Very well, I’ll take care of fuel after I clean up from breakfast.” Marie wasn’t afraid of the work. She only resented how often the woman found more important things to do. Watching her walk away, she thought of how much Hester would complain without hot coffee in the morning or warm food at dinner. “Not important, my eye,” she muttered under her breath.
Marie finished her chores just before hearing the order to move. Hester sat on the wagon seat, perched rather like a vulture, she thought. Charles waved to her, and Marie walked over to him.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” he greeted, kissing her forehead.
“Good morning.” She smiled, walking with him ahead of the wagon as it rolled. Careful about eavesdroppers, Marie glanced around before speaking. “Darling, I’d like to ask you something.”
Distracted with nodding to others as they noticed him, he said, “Of course, what do you need?”
She willed herself to not be bothered by his lack of attention. “I’d like to know why you sent Mr. Granville to fetch me last week instead of doing it yourself.”
He gave her a glare. “I’ve said before now, I don’t think the subject is appropriate for public conversation.”
“I agree. However, the only time we could have a private moment is when nature calls one of us, and the other follows.” His continued inattention by how he looked everywhere else but her irritated Marie. “Now would be a good time to discuss this.
He sighed.” Very well, I’ll tell you what you are really asking. I sent Granville because I knew he’d point you back to camp without harm. In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re not alone in this journey. We won’t be like newlyweds and embarrass ourselves with nightly romps.”
“We couldn’t visit a safe area once in a while?” she blurted in a voice too loud. At his warning expression, Marie lowered her tone, adding, “I rather like the idea of doing so with you.”
Charles shook his head. “If we did, some child could find us. It’s best for everyone if we wait until Oregon.”
“What!” She shrieked at the idea then covered her mouth with a hand. Recovering, Marie laughed, “You are such the prankster! Wait until we reach Oregon, indeed.”
He smiled at her. “You’re right, Oregon, indeed. We will resume our relations once there. Out here is not appropriate.”
The grin faded from her face. His paternal tone infuriated her. Being almost young enough to be his daughter didn’t make her a child, not so close to her mid-thirties. She struggled to keep her own voice light. “Goodness, isn’t our journey four or five more months?”
He nodded. “We’ll be on the trail about that long, yes. We’ll want to wait until we’re settled and Hessy has her own home.”
Marie said under her breath so anyone nearby didn’t hear, “Do you realize the time building her house may take? Are you willing to wait over a year for me?”
Putting an arm around her, he gave her a half hug. “It’s for the greater good.”
She recalled the temporary insanity of asking to kiss Sam Granville. While blaming the whiskey gave her an easy excuse, Marie knew alcohol alone wasn’t causing her feelings for him. She wanted to be tempted only by Charles, but the distance he kept between them made it increasingly difficult. “We are married, so some lovemaking is allowed, I’m sure. I enjoy loving you very much.”
“How unfortunate, because waiting until we reach our new home is perfect for us.” He shook his head, slapping his riding gloves against his thigh. “And for Hessy, too. She’s a sensitive woman and wouldn’t like knowing we sneak around to escape her.”
Marie stared at her husband. His constant reference to Hester angered her, and defiant, she said, “I don’t mind telling her outright why we’re leaving her behind during berry picking or hunting.” She smiled at his angry face, now looking at her. Even when negative, she liked having his full attention. “Hester is a grown woman, isn’t she? I’m sure she’d understand our actions.”
His brow furrowed so much his eyebrows almost met in the middle. “We don’t need to discuss this further. I’m your husband, and I’ve decided. I’m also tired of your arguing.” He tipped his hat to her. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m in need of more pleasant company.”
Gritting her teeth to keep back a sharp retort, Marie watched him walk back to their slow rolling wagon. She shook her head. If he chased any other skirts, she’d assume his disinterest had everything to do with her own lack of appeal. He hopped up with a natural grace that denied his age. Seated next to his twin, he and Hester chatted quietly enough so Marie couldn’t hear. She didn’t want to walk alone this morning, not wanting the time to think. The road wound around the rocky cliffs so much yesterday, it seemed as if they’d traveled mere feet in an hour. Every so often, the land flattened, allowing better grass to grow. Upon coming to such a treasure, the party stopped and let the livestock graze until full. With today promising to be as slow as yesterday, she decided to find the other ladies.
The oxen kept Charles busy, and Hester wouldn’t budge from her perch. Their preoccupation left her lonely, leading her to spend more time with her new friends. She caught sight of Ellen and Jenny at the Platte River. She and the two women were the only younger females without children and could pass uninterrupted time together. They’d become fast friends in the past couple of months.
Marie judged from those crossing on horseback that the river looked the perfect height for swimming in some places. In others, the water ran shallower. Recent rains churned the bottom so much that even the animals only drank the smallest amount. Hoping the dirt might settle before dinner, she grabbed the water pail and started for the river. As she approached, the two girls saw Marie. They waited midway between her and the Platte while she caught up to them.
“Did you hear?” Ellen asked while pushing her glasses back up to the bridge of her nose. “One of the trains going east yesterday afternoon lost more than half their passengers. The rest of their group just wants to reach civilization again.”
Jenny exclaimed, “I’ll bet Indians attacked, scalped, and killed most of them!”
Ellen shook her head. “Indians didn’t kill them. At first, it was cholera, and then poisoned water killed more people, animals, too.”
“Who would do such a thing?” Marie asked as they reached the riverbank. Water was so precious, ruining it seemed insane.
“No one poisoned the water,” replied Ellen. The tallest of the three, she knelt first to fill her bucket. “The soil is such an alkali, the guidebook says don’t allow your animals to drink from any source other than a flowing stream or spring.”
“That’s interesting. I wonder why?” Jenny asked. “Water is water unless it’s smelly and full of crawly things. I wouldn’t drink it.”
Seeing Ellen’s shrug, Marie offered, “Maybe flowing streams bring it in from better sources than the alkaline areas. I know the Mississippi brought us water from Canada and the Great Lakes.” She stepped as close to the water as possible without falling in and scooped a full pail of the muddy liquid.
“Sounds reasonable and makes perfect sense,” Ellen replied. “Marie, did you happen to see the wagons going east? The survivors looked puny. Mr. Granville was gone, so Mr. Lucky took it upon himself to give them fresh food and drink.”
“They said they saw all sorts of wild animals, but no one had the strength to hunt,” Jenny added.
Marie shook her head. “Those poor dears. No, I didn’t see the wagons or the people up close.”
“I’m sure Mr. Granville will be glad Lucky helped them.” Jenny retrieved her pail of water with a thoughtful expression. “He is such a fine man. Mr. Granville, I mean.”
She smiled at the blush reddening Jenny’s
face. The color contrasted with the girl’s blue eyes and pale hair. Marie agreed with her opinion on Sam but was not so bold as to admit it. When he’d sat next to her in the saloon, his body heat through the fabric of his shirt had warmed her arm. He’d smelled like leather, whiskey, and soap, a combination she’d not thought appealing until associated with him. “He seems to be, certainly.”
“Does Lucky know you’re developing feelings for Mr. Granville, Jenny?” Ellen smirked at them.
“That’s foolish,” snorted Jenny. “I might care for Lucky, but Mr. Granville is far too old.”
“Goodness, Jenny!” Ellen laughed. “He’s not so ancient as to be gray-haired already.”
“Oh, no, there is nothing wrong with an older man.” She smiled at Marie. “Your Mr. Warren is a very handsome man, of course.”
She smiled, feeling odd at the comparison. Even with him belonging to her and her to him, Marie thought Charles held more power than she. “Yes, you’re right. I try not to let him out of my sight when there’s a tavern full of women within walking distance. I do find him handsome as well.”
The other two ladies giggled. Marie looked at them again, thinking of how free Sam truly was. Either young woman could attract his attention. Ellen, almost as tall as Sam, had a ready smile, hazel eyes, and auburn hair. She wore glasses most of the time, treating them like treasure. Jenny was Marie’s height, but willowy and very fair. Jenny’s blond hair often escaped her bun and curled around her face. Imagining how Sam might prefer either lady to her left Marie oddly unhappy. After his rejection over a silly kiss and her husband’s continued denial, she wanted to be appealing in some way.
She tried to listen to them talk about the other people in their wagon party. Almost every woman’s heart fluttered when Samuel Granville focused those clear blue eyes on her, even her own. His clothes looked posh, and yet, he was a rugged trail leader. What man of means worked as such, she wondered. While pondering over Sam’s history, Marie realized she knew nothing about him other than the fear in his eyes when threatened with a kiss from her. She felt a flush sweep her face. There was that, she conceded.
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