Most likely it was his complete ignorance of all things modern back then that finally convinced her, even to the point of Anna finding someone to give him an identity. Strange how a man had to prove himself in this time and place. And not by his family or character, but by various pieces of paper issued by the government.
Thoughts of family always evoked wistfulness with memories of his grandparents. He and Anna had traveled once to the Indian store in Kansas. The owners−a couple in their mid forties−assured Wes they’d never employed an elderly Native American woman in the ten years they’d owned the store.
But as he told Koyake’ and mIshomes before he left, they were always close to his heart.
Banging on the bathroom door drew him from his musing. “Daddy, open up.”
“I’m not dressed, Princess. Go have Mommy get your breakfast and I’ll be right down.”
“All right.” A major sigh from five-year-old Macie. “I’ll wait in the kitchen for you. But hurry up.”
Once she’d shut the outer door, he left the bathroom, then quickly pulled on jeans and a tee shirt with Journey Tour - 2013 inked on the front, grateful he didn’t have to dress in a suit and tie−modern day torture−to earn a living. Whistling softly, he finger-combed his hair and headed downstairs.
Coffee mug in hand, Anna moved her head to the side when Wes snagged her from behind and nuzzled her neck. “Good morning,” he growled.
She batted his hand when his fingers crept up her ribs toward her breast. “Little eyes . . .” She gestured toward Macie watching them from her place at the table.
Wes turned to their daughter. “And good morning to you, too, Princess.”
Macie grinned, milk dripping down her chin from a mouthful of cereal. Wes looked at the colorful kernels in her bowl. “Honey, I thought we decided to get healthier food.”
“She likes that,” Anna said as she took her place at the table and sipped from her cup. “Ah, nothing beats my first shot of coffee.”
“Well, if you can’t lick ‘em, join ‘em.” Wes poured cereal from the box with cartoon characters decorating it. “Is this stuff really good?”
Macie nodded. “The best.”
He shuddered when he took the first bite, then lifted the cereal box and studied the nutrition label. “God’s sake, this thing is all sugar!”
Anna shrugged. “So I’ll pack her a nutritious lunch.”
“No school today, Mom.” Macie glanced at Wes. “She always forgets.”
“Why no school?” He pushed the bowl of cereal away.
Macie rolled her eyes. “Duh. Saturday?”
Wes grabbed his coffee mug. “Well then, finish up, Princess, if you’re going to help me with work today.” He rose and kissed Anna on the head and left the room.
Anna wandered along the hallway from the kitchen to the part of the house that contained the office of Shannon Security Systems, eyeing the mess of toys scattered along her path. With her hands curled around the warmth of a dark blue mug with the triple intertwined “S” emblazoned on it, she leaned against the doorway and sipped, watching Wes and Macie, who straddled his lap.
They had their heads together, studying a computer screen while Wes’s fingers flew over the keyboard. Macie’s curly brown hair−not yet brushed, Anna noted−tumbled down her back in its usual early morning disarray. She swung her leg back and forth in rhythm with a cadence only the child knew.
Warmth spread through her each time she viewed this scene. Her husband from the past had become such a computer geek, it always amused her to watch him operate their security business with numerous monitors, computer screens, and latest electronic gadgets surrounding him.
Despite his initial reluctance, he had agreed to attend a few counseling sessions, and it had been years since he’d been troubled by his PTSD. And it hadn’t required sitting around a sewing circle to do it, either.
She’d given up her quest to be reinstated in the police department, opting instead for the ‘safe’ work of high-tech security. Wes had taken to electronics and everything modern with boyish eagerness. His initial fear at the speed of cars soon left him, and he whipped around town in his Mazda Miata while she was left driving the SUV.
“Daddy, what’s this for?” Macie pointed to a device on the table.
Wes began a lengthy explanation, her daughter’s eyes wide with wonder. Anna moved from the doorway and took the comfortable padded seat next to them. “Honey, she doesn’t understand that stuff.”
“Yes, I do, Mom. You always say that.” The little girl, with her daddy’s features, wrinkled her nose as she returned her attention to Wes.
“That’s right, Macie. Tell your mommy that one day you’ll be CEO of your own company.”
The first time Anna had heard Wes say that to their daughter, she roared with laughter. The man who’d been so adamant about her not working when they initially married had done a complete about-face once he’d been presented with a daughter instead of a son. He’d certainly adapted well.
It had taken her a while to believe his story, but too many times she’d had flashes of her own past that confused her. Eventually she’d acknowledged their connection, and insisted if they intended to live together, they would have a legal, contemporary wedding.
Anna cleared her throat and placed her cup on the polished surface of her desk, far enough away from the computer to prevent an accident. “Well, my suspicions were correct.”
Tearing his eyes away from the computer screen, Wes faced her. “What’s that, honey?”
“Macie will have to make room for a partner in her company when she’s CEO.”
His brows drew together, his eyes darting back to the computer screen, a sure sign he wasn’t really listening to her. “Oh?”
She sighed and cupped his face with her hands. “Yes. Our new baby is due in about eight months.”
“Yay, I want a sister!” Macie shouted.
Wes’s eyes lit up and he moved his daughter off his lap, pulling Anna over, settling her on his thighs. “Honey, that’s fantastic news. I know you’ve been worrying about another pregnancy for a long time.” He kissed her softly, nibbling at her lips, offering his full attention.
Anna laid her head on his shoulder and rubbed her cheek on the soft material of his tee shirt. “In all honesty, I was beginning to think Macie would be an only child.”
Wes ran his fingers up and down her bare arm. “Maybe in another five years we can add a third partner.” He tugged playfully on her ponytail.
“Hmm. Not sure we need another partner. But I’m all for doing as much practicing as we can work in.”
“Practicing for what, Mommy?” Macie asked from where she sat, spinning on Anna’s chair.
Wes grinned at Anna. “You’re the mommy, you explain it.”
The End
About The Author
Callie has been making up stories since elementary school, and putting pen to paper gave her a way to turn off the voices in her head. Writing has always been her passion, and she’s authored several romance novels, with an emphasis on the American West, both historical and contemporary.
Oklahoma is where she hangs her hat with her husband, two young adult children, and three dogs.
You can catch her hanging out at Facebook, Twitter- @CallieHutton, and her home base, www.calliehutton.com. Stop by sometime and say hello. She also loves hearing from her readers. Drop her a line: [email protected]
Books by Callie Hutton
Oklahoma Lovers:
A Run For Love #1
A Wife by Christmas #2
A Prescription for Love #3
An Angel in the Mail
Tessa’s Treasures
Daniel’s Desire
Miss Merry’s Christmas
Emma’s Journey
The Elusive Wife
Emma’s Journey:
Emma Thorpe did not want to leave her life in Indiana to travel to Oregon on a wagon train, but her husband, Peter, had other ideas. Barely thre
e weeks into the trip, Peter is killed, and Emma is shocked that the wagon master won’t let her return home.
Wagon Scout Davis Cooper has decided this would be his last scouting trip, he intends to obtain land in the new Oregon territory, find a wife, and start a family.
When the Wagon Master orders Emma and Davis to marry, she rebels, but eventually comes to realize she can’t go it alone, no matter how stubborn she is. But nothing will make her give up her dream to return home.
Can Davis change her mind, and have the life he’s always wanted with his unexpected wife?
Chapter One
Independence, Missouri
March, 1851
Emma Thorpe shivered with the cold wind as she wrapped her arms around her body, and huddled alongside her husband Peter. They inched their way along the line on the corner of Wagon Way and Fourth Street. The area bustled with wagons, children, animals and an abundance of noise. Above all the racket, deep voices of men cursing and shouting at each other as they wrestled furniture into their already overloaded wagons made her want to cover her ears and scream.
Weary women called to children to stay out of the street, and the constant banging of blacksmiths had gifted her with a pounding headache. She figured there had to be over a thousand people here, who like she and Peter, were making preparations to start the journey west. She rubbed stiff fingers over her forehead and glanced at her husband of five months, whose eyes sparkled as he took in his surroundings and appeared to enjoy the noise and confusion as much as she hated it.
They clutched each other’s hands as they awaited their turn to meet with the Wagon Master, Mr. Ezra Franklin. Peter gripped the application in his hands, the one they’d worked on last night by the dim light of their campfire. They’d sat on a damp log, amidst other would-be emigrants, with their only lamp between them. Head bent, Peter wrote furiously with a lead pencil, his brow furrowed in concentration.
The loneliness and fear that gripped her brought tears to her eyes. Two weeks ago, she’d kissed her mama and papa goodbye, and left the only home she’d ever known in all her twenty-one years. She brushed at her damp cheeks with the heel of her hand as their name was called. Reluctantly, she followed Peter into the small makeshift office behind a blacksmith shop.
“Well now, who do we have here?” Ezra’s booming voice carried over the racket, as they entered the room, sending Emma’s heartbeat racing. Everything in this cursed place was so loud and unfamiliar. The large man sitting in front of them certainly matched his voice. Tall and broad enough to qualify as a bear, his long mustache and bushy beard presented a man used to being in charge. Sharp brown eyes assessed them as he leaned back in the large leather chair behind a table used as a desk.
Emma sat and adjusted her skirts, then clasped her hands in her lap. It was a good thing Ezra had a strong voice. The pounding and clanging coming from the blacksmith deafened her.
“Ezra, I’m Peter Thorpe, this is my wife, Emma. We were told to sign up with you when we reached Independence by a friend of ours back home, Monty Applegate, who said his brother’s family traveled with you.” Peter’s rehearsed speech came out in a breathless rush, which indicated to Emma her husband might be as
nervous about this whole thing as she.
“Applegate…” Ezra tugged on his beard. “Yep, I remember them. Nice fella, pretty wife, and if I recollect, two little boys.” He straightened in his chair, and leaning massive forearms on the table in front of him, looked directly into Peter’s eyes.
“Now, if y’all are serious about going out to Oregon country with my group, there’s a few things we need to get straight.” He reached behind him and pulled a paper off a shelf.
“Anything you say, Ezra.” Peter wiped sweat from his upper lip. "We’re depending on you to guide us.”
Ezra reclaimed an unlit cigar balanced on the edge of the table and stuck it in his mouth. He held his hand up and began to tick off on his fingers. “First off, son, you have to have a sturdy wagon. Don’t be coming at me with a rickety contraption that you shoulda left at home. Next, most people get here thinking they have all they need, but I have a list of items that will make your journey a little more pleasant for the missus here.” He handed Peter a paper.
Emma glanced over Peter’s shoulder and examined the list. Just about all of the items, they’d already purchased. Two hundred pounds of flour, one hundred-fifty pounds of beans, four pounds of bacon, plus coffee, sugar, salt, pots, pans, tools, a water barrel, and other basics that continued on down to the bottom of the page.
“Yes, sir, I think we’re well stocked. But Emma and I will go over the list and make sure. We want to make this journey as comfortable as possible.”
Ezra leaned back in his chair and chuckled as he held up three fingers. “Third point, son. If you’re thinkin’ anything about this journey will be comfortable, y’all better turn around right now and go on home. This will be hard work and long days. You’re looking at livin’ in that wagon for six months or more, depending on the weather. The little lady here will be cookin’ over a campfire every day and washin’ out the laundry in creeks. It will be dusty, dirty and smelly.”
Ezra grinned while he recited the horrors of the trail. Peter swallowed several times, and Emma had to grip the sides of her chair to fight the black dots swimming in her eyes. She took a deep breath and bit her lip to keep from crying.
Stiffening, Peter patted Emma’s hand. “We’ll be just fine, Ezra.” He stood and grasping Emma’s elbow, tipped his hat. “If that’s all you need to tell us, we’ll be on our way.”
“Now hold on, boy,” Ezra said, moving the cigar from one side of his mouth to the other. “There are a few more things we need to go over. It looks like we’ll be ready to move out in three or four days, so whatever you need to git, do it now. It’s best to start out after things have had a time to dry out, and the grass is growing strong.” He shuffled several papers on his desk. “I also need you to sign this here agreement that every family head on this trip has to sign in order to travel with me.”
Emma and Peter returned to their seats, then reviewed the agreement. It contained the rules for the wagon train emigrants to follow. Everything from how much gambling and drinking would be tolerated, to agreeing that the Wagon Master would make all final
decisions on any squabbles that arose while they were on the trail. The agreement outlined everything from dealing with criminal activities, to when and where they stopped for the night. Peter took the pencil Mr. Franklin held out and signed his name at the bottom.
Emma swallowed and took a shuddering breath. This was it. They were definitely leaving everyone she knew and loved and heading into the wilds of Oregon.
After taking the paper from his hand, Ezra folded it, and tucked it into a large envelope. “When you think y’all are ready, head over to the northwest part of Independence. There’s plenty of other wagons over there goin’ with us.”
He wished them a good day. As they left the hot, cramped, noisy office, another family entered.
Once outside, Emma tugged on the brim of her bonnet in an attempt to shield her eyes from the glaring sun. Even though the sun sat low on the horizon, the streets of Independence still overflowed with people. They passed more blacksmiths’ shops with the constant hammering and banging. Heavy wagon wheels were being strengthened with iron, and dozens of horses and oxen shod. Women with shopping baskets hurried along the boardwalk, while children with dogs following ran into the street, dodging wagons and horses.
The meeting with the wagon master rattled Emma’s already stretched nerves. She glanced over at Peter as they made their way along the boardwalk. He didn’t appear as confident as he had all along, and that increased her fear.
“Peter, we can still turn around and go back home. Mama and Papa will put us up until we can find another place to live.”
“Don’t worry.” He took her hand to cross the busy street. “Ezra was making it sound worse so we can be prepared for anything. Mo
nty said his brother’s family did just fine. You heard Ezra say he remembered them. They even traveled with two little boys.”
As they stepped into the street, she stopped and stared at him, her heart pounding again. “I’m just so scared. What if we’re attacked by Indians?” She licked her dry lips.
“Emma.” He tugged her against him to avoid a wagon loaded down with furniture. “Indians aren’t the problem everyone says they are. I’ve talked to more people than just Monty about this.”
He smiled and patted her hand. “Let’s get some supper at the hotel, and then find our wagon in this mess. Once we’ve checked everything over, we can drive to the area where Ezra told us to go. Maybe you’ll meet some nice women who will be traveling with us.” Peter laid his hand on the small of Emma’s back and steered her into the dining room of the hotel.
Supper didn’t calm her nerves, although Peter’s appetite didn’t seem to be affected by any second thoughts he may have had. She pushed the food around her plate as he chatted on and on about the exciting wagon train journey, and their wonderful life in Oregon to follow.
She sighed as he talked. Aside from her childhood friend Nathan Hale, she’d had little personal contact with men before Peter walked into her parent’s store seven months before. Peter had never been a
customer in the mercantile, but she’d heard from other customers that he’d inherited his grandmother’s farm in southwest Washington County.
Tall, handsome, and charming, Emma was immediately smitten with the man. He stopped in the store a few times a week, and invited her on a picnic, and to a church social. After a two-month courtship, they married. No sooner had they settled into the small farmhouse than Peter began to complain about farming. He wanted to breed horses, he’d told her. Farming, according to her new husband, would never give them the life he wanted.
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