by Linda Ford
“Judith, it’s me. Luke.”
She rolled her eyes. Like she wouldn’t know his voice. “Leave me alone.”
Thuds of booted feet let her know they had gone. Murmured conversation reached her though she couldn’t make out any words. She didn’t need to. Everyone had seen her with Gil, had heard her reaction. And now they were set on reasoning with her.
Only one voice she didn’t hear. Gil’s. Not that she wanted to. She fell on her knees before the trunk and put the photograph back in its safe place.
How could Frank’s stepbrother be Gil? Had he known all along and simply played a trick on her? How could she trust him?
She lifted the book of poetry Frank had given her from the trunk. She had trusted Frank, given him her complete loyalty. In return, he had left her as if she didn’t matter in the least. And now she’d come within a hair’s breadth at giving her heart completely to Gil.
At least she’d found out in time who he really was.
“Judith?” It was Donna Grace.
“I’m sorry. I need to be alone so I can think.”
“I understand. I’m only here to bring Anna.”
Anna! Judith couldn’t believe she’d momentarily forgotten the child and she hurried to loosen the rope and take her from Donna Grace. “Thank you.” Anna slept and barely stirred as Judith settled her at the end of the trunk.
She would have remembered Anna in a few minutes, but admitting she’d forgotten for even a bit made her wonder if she had a deep flaw within her. One that made her trust people she shouldn’t and fail those who trusted her.
The idea made her groan. She immediately cut off the sound knowing those outside the wagon could hear. The last thing she wanted was to have them inquiring about what was wrong.
Everything was wrong. She didn’t know how to fix it. Or if it could be fixed.
She prepared for bed and lay beside Anna. But sleep would not come. Instead, a list of problems circled in her head. She was married to the very man she blamed for Frank’s death. She’d allowed hate to fester toward Frank’s stepbrother. She couldn’t separate Gil from the man she sought. Nor did she understand how she could be so confused she didn’t realize who he was. Had he changed his name to protect himself?
How was she to deal with this cruel twist of events?
She tried to calm her mind by quoting the Twenty-third Psalm, but she found no comfort in it as she recalled reciting the verses for Gil.
Morning came and with it the knowledge she would see Gil. Unless he’d left as he often did. Oh, please, let this be a morning he is out scouting for the entire day.
She carried Anna from the wagon and looking neither to the left nor the right, joined the ladies preparing breakfast. “Good morning.” Hopefully her cheery voice would make them think she had forgotten last night, and everything was as usual.
Mary Mae and Donna Grace exchanged looks that made Judith think they weren’t as convinced as she’d like them to be. Be that as it may, she took care of Anna, baked biscuits and forced steel into her heart as the men joined them for breakfast.
Gil was with them. So much for hoping he’d be scouting today.
She carefully avoided him, choosing to sit by Polly and Sam hoping everyone would think it was because Anna wanted to be with her friend.
Gil waited a moment after breakfast was over.
She ignored him. What could she say? For that matter, what could he say?
Buck called for them to move out. Gil went to his horse and rode away. Only then did Judith relax.
She sat beside Warren on the hard bench.
He barely waited for her to get settled before he spoke. “Judith, what’s wrong between you and Gil?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I couldn’t help but overhear you accuse him of being responsible for Frank’s death.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“How can you blame him?”
Had her brother gone deaf? “I don’t want to talk about it.” She spoke through clenched teeth.
“He’s a good man.”
Obviously there was no point in repeating herself again so Judith sat in silence.
“He isn’t like Frank, you know.”
What did any of them know if he was like Frank or not? Obviously Frank’s family situation was bad enough that he left home and it seems, he even went under a different name.
Warren tried a few more times to talk to Judith but her stony silence didn’t end and he gave up.
Gil didn’t appear for the noon meal and for that, Judith was grateful. She chose to ride in the back with Anna for the afternoon, not asking to move to the seat even when Anna wakened from her sleep. Instead, she played with the child hoping to put her anger at bay.
Except it wasn’t anger she felt though she tried to convince herself it was because it was easier to be angry at Gil, angry at herself for trusting him, angry at Frank—
She stopped. For the first time since his death she admitted she was angry at him for choosing that way out of his problems.
But toward Gil she felt only despair. It was an odd word she hadn’t considered but it fit perfectly. Here she was married to a man she believed to be a cheater. Not only that, but they had a child they had planned to raise together. Moreover, she had promised him she’d be faithful. But of course, that was before she knew who he really was so her promise was null and void.
Unable to deal with the rage of emotions in her heart, she lay down, Anna playing at her side. If only—
She jerked awake at the sound of her name in Warren’s voice. He seemed concerned.
“What’s wrong?”
“I called your name several times and you didn’t answer.”
“I fell asleep.”
“Where’s Anna?”
The baby played in the corner, but again, Judith’s mental state had caused her to overlook her duties as a mother. She pushed to her feet. “I’ll ride with you.”
Polly had been waiting for a chance to get in the back so she and Anna could play together. Judith thought Polly might do a better job of watching Anna than she had been doing.
They continued down the trail.
“We are about to pass the Caches,” Warren said.
She could tell by the tone of his voice that he expected her to be interested and she did her best to appear so.
“A man named Beard and his fellow travellers were overtaken by winter and dug holes.” He pointed toward an elevated bit of ground. “They lined the holes with moss and stored their goods there until they could return with help to retrieve them. You’ll want to see them.”
Luke and the reverend had turned their wagons aside and Warren followed. The truth was, Judith didn’t care about holes in the ground, but the fact that the men had been overtaken by winter sent a skitter of fear through her. They were travelling late in the season. What would they do if the weather turned bad enough to prevent further travel?
She alighted with the others and exclaimed along with them, but was glad when they continued on their way.
They camped for the night further down the trail.
She’d seen nothing of Gil since breakfast and for that, she was grateful.
Gil could have returned to the others at nightfall but instead, chose to make camp a distance away. His thoughts had gone in endless circles all day long. How could Frank and Ollie be the same person? Yet there was no doubt they were. What had Frank/Ollie told Judith? Was there truth to any of his story?
Gil had been gone a long time from home. When he returned at his pa’s death, he knew only that his father was deeply in debt. He’d blamed Ollie. Was he wrong? Had someone else, without his stepmother’s knowledge, been involved, leaving Ollie to blame Gil? Had he been too quick to assume Ollie was the one taking advantage of their father?
* * *
What really had his mind churning was Judith’s accusation that Gil was to blame for her fiancé’s death. He’d hoped they would f
ind the stepbrother she sought in Bent’s Fort, but he never expected they would find him before and it would be him.
He hunkered down over his small fire. The cold of the evening matched the temperature of his heart.
How was he to go on…how were they to go on together…with this misunderstanding between them? If they could talk, understand what had happened, perhaps come to a resolution—but she made it plain she didn’t want to talk.
Sooner or later he would insist they must, but he’d give her time to realize on her own that he was not the scoundrel Ollie—or did he mean, Frank?—had made him out to be.
If Judith thought Warren would leave off trying to discuss her situation with Gil, the next morning made her see otherwise.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she insisted.
“Well, I do.”
“Just because you’re bigger and stronger, doesn’t mean you get your own way.” They had teased each other this way growing up, but she didn’t feel in a teasing spirit today.
“I’m your big brother so I get to speak my mind.”
She looked to the side, prepared to ignore him which was impossible when he sat only a foot away.
“Gil isn’t Frank,” he said.
“It appears Frank isn’t even Frank.” She had the satisfaction of seeing him look surprised and confused.
“What does that mean?”
She explained.
“Why would Frank lie to you?”
“I ask myself the same question.”
“Seems to be this is something you and Gil need to talk about. If you compare what each of you knows about the situation you might come to some understanding.”
She refrained from saying they would both have to want an understanding. But Warren was right. Something had to be resolved.
Gil didn’t show up until they stopped for the night. He joined them for supper.
“We need to talk,” he said when the meal ended.
“I agree.” A couple of days ago she would have anticipated being alone with him, but today, her insides jumped about like water on a hot skillet.
“We’ll take care of Anna,” Donna Grace said and shooed Judith away.
Judith fell in at Gil’s side, but kept a foot or more between them.
He stopped as soon as they were out of earshot of the wagons. “I am not responsible for Frank’s death though he is my stepbrother, Ollie.”
“Did you take the money he expected to get?”
“I did not get any money. I told you my stepbrother left my father penniless.”
They didn’t look at each other as they spoke.
“Why did he call himself Frank?”
“I thought about it. His name was Oliver Francis Trapper. Before his mother married my father his last name was Crosby. I don’t know where Jones came from any more than I can say why he did this.”
She considered the information. “I don’t know what to think.”
“That’s not very encouraging. You’ll have to decide for yourself if I’m the man you’ve seen and talked with these past few weeks or if I’m who Frank said I was.”
It sounded like an ultimatum, but he was right. She had to decide who he was. It felt disloyal to Frank to cast doubts on what he’d said.
She heard Anna cry and listened. The child continued to cry. “I need to see what’s wrong with her.”
They both hurried back to the wagons.
Anna reached for Judith as soon as she saw her and Judith held her close.
Gil pressed his hand to Anna’s head. Judith’s gaze went to his and she felt a jolt of truth. One thing they were agreed on was their love and concern for this child. But was that enough?
“She kept calling for you,” Donna Grace said.
“I’m here,” Judith crooned to Anna.
“Both of you,” Donna Grace said with some emphasis.
Luke came to his wife’s side. “She knows something is wrong between the two of you and it has her upset.”
“I’ll put her to bed.” Judith climbed into the wagon. Anna needed them together. They were married.
Anna settled, two fingers in her mouth.
Judith opened her trunk to look at Frank’s picture again and try to understand who he was. Her eyes fell on the book of poetry he had given her. Not once had he read any of the poems to her.
She opened the book. In the flyleaf she had penned the words Gil had spoken to her.
If I could, I would give you a house full of joy, a life of contentment and a happy family. I would give you flowers at every window and a swing on the porch. I would give you a river with crystal clear water and trees that blossomed one after another so the air around you was always filled with the perfume of a thousand blooms.
The words were more beautiful than any of the poems in the book.
She sat back—because they were spoken from the depths of his heart revealing who he really, truly was.
Finally, her heart emptied itself of the sorrow and guilt inflicted by Frank’s death. She understood now what her father and brothers had tried to tell her. Frank was not what he appeared to be.
She put the photograph back in the trunk, replaced the poetry book on top of it and closed the lid.
Anna slept peacefully so Judith left the wagon.
Gil sat hunched over the fire, silent as the others talked. She went to his side.
“We need to finish our discussion.”
He jolted to his feet, a look of surprise in his eyes.
She caught his elbow and steered him away from the wagons. Darkness had fallen so she didn’t go far, just far enough to ensure a bit of privacy. She stopped.
“I’ve had time to think.”
He didn’t answer, but she could feel him tense.
“Frank was not what he pretended to be. I should have seen it sooner. He had a store but no business. He lived a good life, but there didn’t seem to be a source of income. The only explanation he ever gave was to say that his mother had money for him. I believe he was taking money from your parents and, like you said one time, returning none.”
“I believe that is what happened.”
She heard the caution in his voice. “It was a terrible shock to realize you were the stepbrother I sought.”
“I well imagine it was.” Still not an ounce of understanding that she could tell.
“For so long I had blamed his stepbrother for Frank’s death. It was easier than blaming myself.”
He caught her arms. “You are not to blame.”
“I know that, but neither are you or the stepbrother I imagined.” She struggled to speak the next words but she had to. It was the only way to put this business behind her. “No one is to blame for Frank’s choices. They belong to him alone.”
“Exactly.”
“My choices are also mine alone.”
He tensed.
“And I choose to willingly be your wife and a mother to Anna.”
It took a moment for her words to register, but she knew the moment he did. In fact the whole camp did. He let out a whoop that set the dog to barking and the mules to braying. He wrapped his arms around her. “That is the best news ever.” He leaned back so he could look into her face.
She studied him, his face angular in the light from the campfire. She could not see his eyes well enough to read his feelings. Perhaps his whoop said it all, but she longed for words. “I’m holding you to the promise you gave me.” She quoted the words that were in the front of the poetry book.
He tipped his forehead to hers. “All my adult life I have wanted someone who would be loyal to me. Or at least that’s how I chose to view it. But I want more. So much more. I want a love that does not change with circumstances. A love that is faithful through good times and bad.” His voice deepened. “That’s what I am giving you. I’m giving you my heart with no strings attached.”
“It’s the best gift I could ask for. I, too, give you my heart with no strings attached.”
“Judith
Trapper, my wife, I love you.”
She whooped. The dog barked. The mules brayed. She didn’t care. She’d wondered if he would ever say those three little words that made all the difference.
“Gil Trapper, my husband, I love you.”
He didn’t whoop again. He laughed then caught her lips in a claiming, promising kiss. She held him close, her hands at his back, pressing him close. This was the beginning of their life of love and she meant to enjoy every heartbeat of it and brand it forever on her memory.
She knew it must be her imagination, but it seemed the sky filled with light.
“It’s a comet,” he said and they stared heavenward as falling star after falling star streaked across the sky.
“Could we ask for a better blessing on our love?” she asked.
Epilogue
For two days, Judith worked long and hard on the sampler she made wanting to finish it as quickly as possible and give it to Gil as a wedding present. A visible sign of their commitment to each other.
She finished it before they stopped for supper and she folded it into her pocket. Once they reached their new home, she would press it and frame it.
Donna Grace asked why she smiled as they made supper together.
“I have a surprise for Gil,” Judith answered.
Donna Grace nodded, her smile full of sweetness as if she remembered special things she and Luke had shared.
Judith’s brothers and the ladies of the group had noticed the change in Judith’s and Gil’s relationship and had conspired together to make a special evening for Judith and Gil. They would take care of Anna while Judith and Gil had an evening to themselves.
Gil had taken the tent a hundred feet from the circled wagons into the shelter of some trees. When Judith let it be known she feared raiders, her brothers informed her their little camp would be well guarded.
Already Gil had a campfire burning brightly and Judith’s heart picked up pace. She prepared plates of food for each of them and started across the grass. Gil saw her and trotted over to help her.
Judith felt unaccustomedly shy. They’d been married three weeks, had spent seven—almost eight days—in isolation, but this was the first time they had been alone as man and wife.
