The Oregon Trail Series Short Stories

by Laura Stapleton

  “I reckon that’s true now, but back then I’d have argued with you.” He stared at the ground. “Their Pa decided that if we couldn’t have Lizzy, we’d put Beth in her sister’s place.” Shrugging, he added, “We were crazy with grief, I suppose. Now that I look back, it doesn’t seem the right thing to do.”

  Unsure of what he meant, Mary asked, “How would you put a woman in her sister’s place? Did you marry her?”

  “Not so much.” He opened and shut his mouth a couple of times, struggling with the words. “We decided to have her be Lizzy and pretend Beth had been the one to die. That way, we figured Lizzy was going to still be my wife.”

  Mary shook her head, unable to believe what he’d just admitted. “Beth agreed to all this?”

  “Yeah. She promised her Pa on his deathbed, and I used that promise to keep her in line.”

  He’d not met her eyes the entire time they’d talked about his past. She respected his privacy but wanted to examine his face for the truth. Daggart couldn’t be serious about the farce he’d put his sister-in-law through. “So it was just you two after Beth’s family died, and you both pretended your wife was still alive?”

  “Yeah.” His head hung far enough down to touch his chest. “Looking back, I don’t know how we came up with such a thing. All I remember is being out of my mind at losing Lizzy. I drank so much back then, I don’t remember if we found her remains and had a funeral, or didn’t find her and did nothing. I’m only sure of coming west, needing to find gold to keep me in whisky, and losing Beth.”

  The loss of his sister-in-law shocked her. “Oh no!” Feeling how invested she was in Daggart’s story took Mary aback some. “Beth died too?”

  “Maybe, probably. I’m not sure.”

  Her heart pounded, astounded at his lack of knowledge about his sole remaining family member. “You don’t know if your sister-in-law is still alive?”

  “No. That’s another reason why I’m not worth saving. I left her behind at Fort Laramie.”

  She tasted dust and Mary realized her jaw hung open. “Why would you do such a thing?”

  “She was sickly and I knew I’d make better time on a horse. If she lived, there was plenty for women to do at the fort. If she didn’t….” He picked a blade of grass growing against the steps and began picking it apart. “I didn’t want to bury another wife, even if I didn’t remember burying the first one.”

  Leaning back, she went over everything she’d just heard. The man sounded repentant enough for saving, but did he deserve to be? Mary wasn’t sure, but then she wasn’t the one to decide. God was. She glanced at Daggart. He didn’t cry crocodile tears and hadn’t been overly emotional in telling the story. Did he care about Beth or what he’d done to her? “How long ago did you abandon her?”

  “A year. Almost to the day. I would have left her money too, but didn’t have any. I dropped her trunk and blankets next to her, but sold the wagon for a horse.”

  His voice held nothing. No remorse, no regret, just an empty sort of sadness. “I’m not sure what to think about a man who’d abandon a sick woman.”

  “I didn’t so much abandon her.”

  “You don’t think so?”

  “Maybe a little.” He picked a clump of dried mud from his pants hem. “I might need to be baptized a few times just because of her.”

  She shook her head. God would ultimately forgive him, but did she even want to help such a wicked man? Mary’s heart told her no, while her faith said she must and she stood. “I’m upset with how horrible you’ve been and will need to pray on how I feel about your actions.”

  Daggart shrugged and stayed seated, not meeting her eyes. “I warned you.”

  His remorse softened her heart a little. She needed to reflect on how she was merely witness to his confession, not his judge. “You did, and thank you for trusting me.” She reached into her pocket, retrieving his money. “Before I leave, here are the leftover coins from your gold.”

  He took them. “Thank you, Miss Mary.”

  “You’re welcome, and good day.” She didn’t hesitate in walking to the front of the church and entering. Daggart had given her a lot to ponder about helping him. He didn’t have the worst story she’d ever heard. Still, his actions had been very misguided. Mary pushed away thoughts of questioning just how married he’d pretended to be with his sister-in-law. Instead, she folded her hands, bowed her head, and prayed for understanding and acceptance of God’s will.

  Back at his dig, Daggart stared at the clear water flowing in front of him. This had been the best prospecting so far. The soap Miss O’Brien had bought him weighed heavy in his pocket. It was probably the coins and not the soap, but still. He had the constant reminder all day during his work. He sighed in resignation. How often did Miss O’Brien expect him to bathe? She’d never said. These clothes could probably use another scrubbing and soaking too. Everything he owned was in the wagon and parked behind the church.

  He went for Muley and hopped on the animal, postponing another bath until tomorrow. No need in going crazy with all the cleanliness. Then again, he’d liked the approval shining in her eyes when she first saw him all cleaned up. Liked it much more than the condemnation she’d displayed as he told her about leaving behind Beth Ann.

  The saloon with the dirt, smoke, and noise didn’t appeal to him this evening. Each morning he’d not woke up still drunk felt better than the day before. With a start, he realized he liked not visiting the saloon. Even better, losing his taste for drinking meant he had more money. He shook his pocket, enjoying the rattle of coins. Enough to file a claim on this land and maybe set down roots. He rode out here every day and back to town every night. Even if he just brought the wagon out here and set up a tent, doing so gave him more digging time. He shifted in the saddle. More digging meant less time riding Muley, and that made settling down worth the gold.

  Did he really want to move everything to a lonely spot of land so far from the church? Daggart frowned, wondering where that thought came from. A memory of Mary resurfaced and he winced. A damn—he stopped himself—a darn woman, even one as pretty as Miss O’Brien, wasn’t going to keep him from making a good living out here. His mind lingered on the loveliness of her. How her hair had gleamed in the morning light today as he told her everything. A pinprick from his conscience reminded him he’d not mentioned the worst about that time in his life. How he took out his anger and frustration on Beth.

  Now, he wanted a drink. A full bottle to empty his mind sounded just fine right about now. Daggart gritted his teeth, not even looking at the saloon as he passed by. If he had money from today’s prospects left over after buying new clothes and getting a real shave, he’d think about spending time and money there.

  Today made five days in a row Mary hadn’t found Daggart out in front of the saloon. She paused and stared down the narrow alley between the church and saloon. What if the voice urging her to check on him was God asking her to continue her mission? Then, it wouldn’t be her heart’s indulgence, but a direct order from heaven she had to obey. Lord knows she wanted nothing more than to help him up out of the spiritual quicksand he wallowed in. She looked back at the church’s front before walking down the alley to the back. The further she went, the sweatier her palms became. Before she could imagine what sort of shape she’d find him in, Mary turned the corner to see his wagon gone. She halted, shocked by the empty space. A quick search of the ground showed he’d been gone during yesterday’s slight rain.

  “He’s gone, Miss O’Brien.”

  Mary turned to see the reverend walking toward her. “That’s too bad. I had a feeling he was turning toward God.”

  Chuckling, the reverend shrugged. “He might still be. Bartlett headed out a couple days ago, saying he wanted to stake a claim for good. He was asking me about filing papers for land and such. I helped him as much as I could.”

  She felt sure Daggart would lose interest in eternal salvation when he didn’t live so close to the church. “But he can’t le
ave here. He’s still not found the Lord.”

  The reverend laughed. “Not yet, my child. He can find Him on Sunday when he comes to church.”

  “He told you he plans to attend?” The idea of seeing him during service pleased Mary in a tingly way. As if a cool wind tickled her on a hot summer day, goose bumps dotted her skin.

  “Yes, he said he needed the time to read some in the Bible and get right in his heart before he commits to an afterlife.”

  She disliked how vague Reverend Morris was being in telling her Daggart’s intentions. Mary didn’t want to criticize but had to ask him for specifics. “Should we let him wait that long? I’ve heard of accidents killing men at the various mines. What if something happens before the Sabbath? He’ll suffer eternal damnation.”

  The reverend opened his mouth to say something, then stopped and smiled instead. “Someone should tell him what he’s risking by waiting.”

  Mary nodded. “Someone should.”

  “I could probably go out there myself.” He opened his arms as if to encompass the buildings back area. “There’s too much work around here for me to do so.”

  She glanced at the building materials left there by rushed builders and agreed. “Let me go and convince Mr. Bartlett that he needs to come here right now.”

  “Are you sure you want to go alone to his camp?”

  The question gave her pause. How much did she honestly trust him? He’d had a dark past and Mary felt sure she didn’t know all of it. Worse deeds might remain hidden. She bit her lip, wanting to believe the kindness she’d see in his eyes when she’d given him his money and the regret there when he’d told her about mistreating Beth. “Yes, I’m sure. I’m not afraid of him, and if he’s truly accepting of God, I’ll never have reason to be.”

  The reverend grinned as if she’d answered a test question correctly. He nodded. “Very well, my child. Go and fetch him here so you won’t have to worry about his eternal salvation.”

  She grinned and hurried home. Not pausing long enough to explain to anyone, Mary breezed through the house in a rush to get a riding bonnet. She brushed off her mother’s questions and readied her horse. Once on the road, she couldn’t go fast enough to suit her impatient heart. What would she say to bring Daggart back to town in the middle of a workday? She smiled. Her words didn’t matter. He’d see how much she cared for him and the hereafter. After that, he’d have to follow her back to church.

  At long last, she neared his prospecting site. His mule stood a ways out from Daggart’s wagon. She squinted at the lumpy structure, assuming his wagon and a tarp gave him a dry place to live in for now. She frowned, hoping it was indeed temporary. Sliding off of her horse, she tied him to the wagon’s tongue. No sounds came out from under the oilcloth, so she hollered out for him. “Mr. Bartlett? Are you here?”

  “Yeah, miss.” His head peeked up from the creek’s ravine. “Come on over and help me pan. I’ll even let you keep everything you find.”

  She chuckled at his grin, catching his good mood and teasing him. “When you put it like that, how could I resist?”

  “Exactly!”

  Shaking her head at how sarcasm was lost on him, she shimmied down the ditch. “I spoke to Reverend Morris earlier today. Are you sure you want to wait until Sunday for salvation?”

  Daggart shrugged. “Ain’t that as good a time as any?”

  She couldn’t let him procrastinate on something as important as this. “What if something happens between now and then? Your immortal soul is in danger.”

  Searching her face, he frowned. “You seem to really care about where I end up after I’m dead. Maybe it don’t matter where I go.”

  The idea horrified her and she blurted, “It does too matter. Everyone wants to go to heaven. It’s a wonderful place. All your friends and family are there.”

  “Might be worth it to see Lizzy again.” He swirled the water in his prospecting pan, mesmerized by the motion. “I’m not worth saving, but if a bath in holy water gets me there, I’ll do it.”

  She sighed, frustrated at his not taking baptism as seriously as it deserved. “Mr. Bartlett, it can’t be merely a fancy bath. It’s giving over your life and heart to the Holy Spirit. It’s not a free ticket to heaven.” She tilted her head to catch his eyes and stared into his face. “If your evil ways of drinking and meanness are truly behind you, then commit yourself to the Lord. He’s always ready to accept the repentant.”

  He swallowed as if fighting down a lump in his throat. “What if I’m not worth the Lord’s time? I’ve not told you everything I’ve done.”

  “Confess to the reverend and let him decide.” She glanced over at Daggart and saw his face etched with worry with his eyes a little watery. Wanting to console him, Mary added, “He’s saved far worse sinners than you. I’ve seen it for myself. If you’re truly repentant, you’ll be accepted just fine.”

  “Another thing, Miss Mary. What happens when I take a shine to some gal and marry again?” He rubbed his chin, smearing dirt across his skin. “Do you reckon Lizzy would be mad?”

  She smiled. “I don’t think anyone can be angry in heaven. But, let’s ask the reverend to be sure. I’m very excited for you. This is the beginning of a new life for you.”

  “I appreciate that, miss, and plan on making this one better than the first. I’ll have some apologizing to do, most likely. I’ll send a letter to Fort Laramie, asking if there’s a Beth there. Maybe send one to the Granvilles, see if they know what happened to her.”

  “To who?”

  “Our trail guides. If anyone would know for sure what happened to Beth, they would. I could send her an apology.” At her nod, he gave her a sly look. “Suppose I should plan on a lot less drinking and fighting.”

  Laughing, Mary patted his arm without thinking and then drew back from the contact. He was wiry, but had strength under his cotton shirt. “Plans are fine, as long as they’re in line with God’s plans for you.”

  He gave her a grin. “Then I hope He and I agree. I was a good husband to Lizzy, a bad man to Beth, and I’d like God’s help in being a good man again for someone.”

  Mary looked over at him, catching how he stared at her. She’d seen him sleeping in mud, patiently scrounging for gold, and fighting back tears. Now something different shown from his eyes and it looked like hope. “I’m positive that if you ask, you shall receive.”

  “Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind for the future.”

  Her cheeks burned as Mary hoped she didn’t misinterpret the resolve she saw in his face. She didn’t know what else to say to him, her mind and tongue seemed to be mush at the moment. “Very well. Shall we begin your new life?”

  “I hope so, Mary.” He held out his hand for her to shake. When she accepted his gesture, Daggart grinned and said, “I hope we will.”

  Lucky’s Christmas Wish

  Lucky Martin looked up into the overcast winter sky. Snow fell on his nose, the small flakes tickling him. He loved being outside. Four walls and a roof had been a home for him at one time. And home had meant fear, pain, and sadness, too. Outside, though? Outside meant freedom to do as he pleased and happiness. Chuckling at the flakes’ kisses, he looked ahead at the piney woods being blanked in white.

  His job at the Granville ranch included checking on the farm animals twice a day. Lucky busted their frozen water tanks, made sure the hay remained plentiful, and inspected the small herd’s health. Giving the younger, friendlier cattle pats in response to their nuzzles, he grinned. Maybe a steady place to live could be good. He’d been with the Granvilles for five years. Long enough to see the possibility of a happy home for other people and hopefully him, too.

  He trudged through the thick mantle of snow and ice. In the waning daylight, pools of light spilled from the windows as he approached. Curtains couldn’t hold the warmth at bay leaving the blue ground splashed with the yellow lamplight shining through the glass. The color reminded him of Jenny’s hair, sunny, golden, and beautiful. Grinning to himself,
he had to admit everything pretty reminded him of her. The blue sky reflected in the river’s water captured the color of her eyes. Sun ripened apricots looked like her skin and he wondered if her kisses tasted as sweet.

  Shaking his head, Lucky ignored his longing for Jenny. He remembered how Lefty, another one of the Granville family’s farmhands, had seen her in town and at church. Each time, she had been escorted by a gentleman none of them at the ranch had met. He made his way to the bunkhouse door, his mood declining.

  Once inside, he stomped his boots before removing them. Heat from the wood stove turned snow into puddles under his feet. He stepped away from the cold water so his wool socks wouldn’t get wet. They were his only pair and he wanted to take extra care of the gift Mrs. Beth had knitted for him. With a toddler and a baby on the way, he’d hate to impose by asking for another handmade pair.

  “Hey Lucky, I saw your girl in town today,” Arnold said. The younger man sat back in a chair at the table, playing dominoes with Lefty.

  “He doesn’t want to hear about it, Arnie. Save your gossip for the chicken house.” Lefty pushed a domino forward, causing his opponent to scowl.

  “Yeah, he does. She was with her little brother, not that man always courting her,” Arnie retorted, still frowning.

  Lucky looked up at the two. “She was with Tyler?”

  With a triumphant grin, Arnie placed a scoring domino while saying, “Sure was. I tipped my hat to them and they stopped for a chat.”

  Lucky sat in the third chair. Scooting up to the table, he leaned forward and had a tough time keeping still. “How did she look? Beautiful, I suppose. Did she ask about me? Did you tell her anything about us staying here for good and maybe I could visit her?”

  Arnie glanced up at his opponent and grinned. “We exchanged a few pleasantries, but that was all.”

  Lefty used his good hand to place another tile. “I think you should go visit her family’s farm and see if they need help or anything,” he offered.