The Bride Series (Omnibus Edition)

by Bittner, Rosanne

  Marybeth sighed. “Yes. We all wish for those things.”

  “When we reach Oregon, then things will be better. We’ll have real homes again. I will pray that you find yourself a fine husband, Marybeth.”

  Marybeth felt a pain in her heart. Again she wondered what she would do when she reached Oregon. Settle with the MacKinders? She had already lived with them longer than she thought she could bear. But she might not have any choice.

  “Yes,” she answered, thinking again of Joshua Rivers and wondering why he kept invading her thoughts at odd moments. “Do pray for me, Delores.” She looked at the young woman, a lump rising in her throat. “I’ll be at your worship service in the morning.”

  Chapter Five

  The looks on the women’s faces was the same—quiet resignation to a situation most of them hated; an aching loneliness, a longing for home, for loved ones left behind. Some wept as they sang hymns, realizing they would most likely never again see mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers. They followed their men faithfully into a land that was frightening, now leading a life crude and miserable compared to the homes they had left, whether log cabins or sturdy brick.

  Marybeth’s greatest fear was that Danny would get sick and there would be no help. There was a chill in the air this morning, and she had left the baby behind with John with orders to watch Danny closely. “You should not be going to that worship,” he had told her angrily. “We are Catholic.”

  “You cannot tell me how and when to worship,” she had answered, wondering how a man could talk about his religion and behave the way John did. She had looked at Ella, pleading with the woman to come along, sure she wanted to go. But Ella looked at Mac, and he had frowned and shook his head. Ella stayed at the wagon.

  “I’ll watch Danny for you. John has work to do,” she told Marybeth.

  Marybeth left, realizing she would have ended up like Ella if Dan had lived. In order to enjoy some kind of peace, she would have had to jump at Dan’s commands and suffer his brutality the rest of her life, for her religion would never have allowed a divorce, and she would never have considered it. She couldn’t help thinking of Dan’s death as almost a blessing, and the thought brought on an unbearable guilt. She quietly prayed for forgiveness.

  A woman Marybeth now knew to be Florence Gentry began reading from the Bible. Her youngest son, Toby, was the playful curly-headed six-year-old boy who had created the confusion with the chickens on the riverboat. It was obvious he was full of mischief, and this morning he wiggled and scratched restlessly as he he stood beside his eleven-year-old brother, Billy, and eight-year-old sister, Melinda. Samuel Gentry stood behind his son, big hands on his shoulders warning him to stay put.

  The Gentrys seemed happy, and Marybeth longed for that kind of solid family, with a strong, but gentle and supportive husband. Some of the couples were obviously happy, like the Gentrys and Delores and Aaron Svensson. She envied another woman, Bess Peters, who not only had two children—Andy, thirteen, and Lilly, ten—but also had her mother along. Marybeth still missed her own mother almost as though she had died only yesterday. Bess’s husband, Al, was a short, stocky man with a stem look to him, a man who was obeyed by gently spoken commands that carried with them a message of love, rather than the loud, passionless orders John and Mac barked to her and Ella.

  Another couple, Wilma and Cedrick Sleiter, were childless. They were perhaps in their late forties. Cedrick’s hair was balding; Wilma, a heavy woman, had a good share of gray sprinkled into her auburn hair. The Sleiters were also from Indiana. Delores had told Marybeth about them, since Delores and Aaron had traveled to Independence with both the Sleiters and Peters. The Sleiters had lost a twenty-two-year-old son, James, just a year ago, their only child. Wilma Sleiter was still not over the loss, and they had come west to get away from familiar places and things. At least Cedrick had thought it would be better for her, but Wilma had not wanted to leave.

  Marybeth watched the woman as another hymn was sung. There were circles around her eyes, and a visible agony that tore at Maybeth’s heart. She could not imagine anything worse than losing an only child, and a lump rose in her throat at the thought of losing little Danny. There had been little love shared between herself and the boy’s father, but that had no affect on her feelings for her baby. He was the most precious thing in her life.

  Every woman from the wagon train except Ella was at the worship service, as well as most husbands. The scouts, as usual, were nowhere to be seen; and Marybeth wondered if they even believed in a God. Cap and the cook were at the cook wagon going over some kind of map. Children were coughing and fidgeting, and another prayer was offered.

  Marybeth took her rosary from a pocket of her dress and quietly whispered three Hail Marys. A few people turned to glance at her, but most just looked away again. Marybeth sensed that on such a journey, how a person worshipped mattered little. For the duration of the journey they would all have one thing in common—survival. They all needed God and the hope their various religions brought them. They had even broken away from the firm conviction that only a man should lead a worship service. Most of the men along were too bashful, too busy, or couldn’t read well enough to take that responsibility, and it was the women who had insisted on worship, and who conducted the same. The only man who participated in leading some of the prayers and songs was a Raymond Cornwall, who had been a deacon at his Baptist church back in Pennsylvania and was the closest thing they had to a real preacher.

  Cornwall began reading from the Bible. “Who’s that coming?” Marybeth heard someone say quietly as the man read. She glanced in the direction of the woman’s eyes, and her heart seemed to skip a beat. A man wearing deerskin shirt and riding a buckskin-colored horse was approaching. She thought she recognized the horse, but because of the Indian-style shirt and the way the sun behind him cast his face in shadow, she could not be sure who the rider was. He led his horse around the outside of the crowd, realizing they were at worship, and Marybeth noticed he also led two grayish-white pack horses, both of them with spotted rumps, a breed she had never seen before. When he got a little closer, she saw who it was, and she quickly turned away, her heart pounding wildly.

  Joshua Rivers! She told herself it was foolish and sinful . to be so happy he was here. What difference did it make? He was just another traveler. And yet she was glad to see he had come alone. Surely he had no family, a man traveling alone to Oregon. With shaking hands she continued praying with her rosary beads, and to her surprise her eyes teared with absolute joy.

  “Would you look at that?” Bill Stone spoke up, rising from digging stones out of an ox’s hoof. Mac and John both looked up from the axle they were greasing to see Joshua Rivers ride past them, leading two pack horses.

  “What in God’s name is that bastard doing here?” John grumbled.

  Joshua looked in their direction slowing his horse for a moment in surprise. Then he nodded, grinning wryly at John, who stood and stared at him as he headed for the cook wagon.

  “You don’t suppose that sonofabitch is going to be traveling with this train, do you?” John asked Mac.

  “Looks that way to me.”

  Bill Stone grinned to himself, thinking how interesting the tedious journey could become with Joshua Rivers and John MacKinder thrown together.

  Josh rode up to the cook wagon.

  “You Harley Webster?” He was speaking to the buckskin-clad, bearded man who looked too old for such a venture. The man turned.

  “Yes, sir, but everyone calls me Cap,” the man answered, reaching up to shake Josh’s hand. Josh took his hand and dismounted.

  “Joshua Rivers. My brother-in-law, Brand Selby, said to look for you.” They released hands. “Brand said he sold some horses to you a year or so back, in Independence. He’s part Indian and good friends of a scout called Devon, who told him you’re the best at leading folks west.”

  “Well, I don’t know about that, but any friend of Devon’s or any relative of Brand Selby is w
elcome on my wagon train,” Cap told him.

  Josh grinned. “I was told back at Independence you and Devon both had already left with a wagon train. I was there a few days ago myself, but I went home for a last good-bye to my family and I missed you. Been riding hard to catch up ever since. I’m headed for Oregon myself, but it’s dangerous country out there for a man alone.”

  “That it is. You a single man then?”

  “Yes, sir. I’d be glad to offer my services in any way I can. I’m a pretty good shot; be glad to hunt for you, and I’m packing the latest in repeating rifles.”

  “Well, we can use a man who will keep us in meat. My scouts are out now, checking the trail ahead. They do some hunting, but that’s not their primary duty. An extra man is welcome. You look like you can take care of yourself.”

  Josh nodded. “Been doing it for years.”

  “Those are mighty fine looking Appaloosas you have there,” Ben Stramm spoke up. He reached out his hand. “I’m the cook—Ben Stramm.”

  Josh shook his hand. “Thanks. My brother-in-law raises Appaloosas. He’s one of the best—half Comanche. You know how Indians are at breeding horses.”

  Ben’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “They’re about the best. But I’m surprised your own brother-in-law is Indian.”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “You must know a little about Indians then. You might come in handy farther along on the trial.”

  Joshua smiled then. “I mostly know about Comanche. I’m not real familiar with the tribes of the northern plains. But I’m told they don’t make much fuss; mostly poke their noses around to trade. They haven’t figured out yet that this invasion of whites is going to get worse. The Comanche figured it out a long time ago. They’ve been at war with the whites in Texas for years.”

  “That where you’re from?” Cap asked. “I thought I recognized that Texas drawl.”

  Joshua sobered, a terrible loneliness coming into his eyes. “Lived here all my life, up till about six years ago. That’s another long story. You don’t mind then if I join you?”

  “Not when you’re a healthy young man who can help us out; you have a tent or something?”

  “Yes, sir. I didn’t want to be encumbered with a wagon. A tent is good enough.”

  “Well, then, tie your horses and have some coffee with us. Most of the people from the train are attending a worship service. If you’re from Texas, you’re pretty familiar with the West and its dangers. That’s a big help, too. I’ll bet you’ve had your share of drought, snakes, cactus, dust storms and the like.”

  Joshua grinned, already wondering why in God’s name the MacKinders had to be a part of this wagon train. He told himself he should move on right now, but he had specifically wanted to travel with Webster and Devon. “Texas has all those things and even more wonderful attributes,” he answered.

  They all laughed and Cap handed Josh a tin cup full of coffee. “Well, most of these folks do have some surprises ahead,” he said. “It’s the women I always feel sorry for. I haven’t led one of these trains yet without seeing some woman go just about crazy. They lose children, husbands, mothers—leave behind fine homes. I have to admire most of them. They’re only here because their men-folk have big dreams about owning lots of land and being their own masters. Trouble is, once Oregon and places like that get settled enough, the people there will find out they have the same problems, rules and restrictions, taxes and such as they had back home. But who am I to tell them they’re crazy to leave behind loved ones and comfortable homes and farms? It’s their choice. All I can do is try to get them there safely, and I’ll tell you, most of these people know precious little about what they’re in for and how to survive out here.”

  Josh nodded. “I can imagine.” He thought again of Marybeth, then shook the thought away. He was a man headed for Oregon to carve his own destiny in a new land. The fact that the MacKinders happened to be on the same wagon train was just an inconvenience, nothing more.

  He watched then as the little prayer meeting in the distance broke up. Families headed back to their wagons, and he saw John MacKinder headed toward the cook wagon, his face dark with rage, his hand clutching a hammer. Josh sighed with irritation as he boldly held John’s nearly black eyes with his own soft brown ones.

  “What is this man doing here?” John barked at Cap.

  Cap frowned, folding his arms. “What’s it to you, Irishman?”

  “I don’t like him! He’s a troublemaker.”

  A few people wandered in the direction of the voices, unable to avoid hearing John MacKinder. Marybeth’s heart sank and she felt her cheeks going hot with embarrassment when she, too, heard John shouting near the cook wagon.

  “What’s that big Irishman grumping about now?” someone muttered. “I wish someone would shut him up.”

  Marybeth’s eyes filled with tears. She had no doubt what the argument was about.

  “Well, so far on this trip, the only troublemaker I’ve seen is you, MacKinder,” Cap was saying. “This man just got here, and he’s single and able to hunt for us. He wants to go along and I’m letting him. What’s he done that leads you to believe he’s a troublemaker?”

  John’s breathing came out in snorts that reminded Marybeth of a bull. “He just is, that’s all! You’ll find out! You’ll regret letting him come along.”

  “Mr. MacKinder is just upset because I beat him in an honest match of arm wrestling,” Josh told Cap, all the while smiling and watching John. “It was a couple weeks back, on the riverboat to Independence.”

  John’s face turned a deeper red.

  “You call that troublemaking?” Cap asked John.

  John just glared at Josh. “He cheated,” he told Cap. “He knew my arm was tired.” He held up a fist. “Nobody beats John MacKinder, you hear?”

  Cap just grinned and shook his head, stroking his beard. “All you had to do was save the challenge for when your arm was rested. If you chose to go ahead, then I’d say it was your loss, MacKinder.” He lost his smile then, stepping between John and Josh. “Now you listen to me, Irishman. I can tell already this is a good man. You need him, if you want to keep your family fed. Right now I’d say you’re the biggest troublemaker on this trip, and you’ll follow my orders and hold that temper of yours, or you’ll find yourself at the back of this train every day—or better yet, I’ll kick you clean out and you can either travel alone or wait for another wagon train to come by! If you want to take that kind of chance with two women and a baby along, that’s your decision.”

  John looked right over the man’s head at Joshua. “You stay away from me and my family, Rivers, you hear?”

  “I’ve got no reason to be coming around your wagon. But I do have a right to join this wagon train. You mind your business, MacKinder, and I’ll mind mine.”

  John gripped the hammer as though he would like to use it on Josh, then whirled and stormed away. People moved out of his way, some staring after him and shaking their heads. Marybeth hung on the edge of the crowd, feeling a strange but pleasant stirring at the way Joshua Rivers had stood up to John. How she wished again she could have seen the arm wrestling contest.

  “This here is Joshua Rivers,” Cap told the others, “originally from Texas. Don’t know much more about him except that his brother-in-law is a fine man and a good friend of Devon’s. He seems pleasant enough, he’s single and can hunt for us.” He looked at Josh, as the crowd of on-lookers dispersed. “As long as you hunt for us, Ben here will cook for you,” Cap told Josh then. “Welcome to our little group—not so little, actually. We’ve got roughly seventy-five people along, almost half of them children—nineteen wagons, almost ninety oxen, twenty or so horses, and a small herd of cattle, not to mention chickens.”

  “Sounds like you’ve got your work cut out for you,” Josh replied.

  “Now you know why I appreciate an extra hand. Though you might regret this, Josh.”

  Josh glanced at Marybeth, who lingered at a distance. She
reddened at being caught staring at him and immediately turned and walked away. “And you might be right,” he said almost absently. “I might regret picking this train to travel with.”

  Cap followed his eyes. “I wouldn’t be lingering my gaze on that one, Josh. She’s a MacKinder. Couldn’t be you came along because of her, could it? Is there something more between you and MacKinder I don’t know about?”

  Josh looked at the grizzly old man. “No. I’m just a man headed for Oregon, Cap. I had no idea the MacKinders were along, and I sure as hell don’t go around messing with other men’s wives.”

  He handed his empty coffee cup to Webster.

  “Wives? Marybeth MacKinder is a widow,” Cap answered him.

  Josh turned, taking some tobacco from his supplies. “You mean she’s not married to John MacKinder?” He struggled not to seem too interested when he asked the question.

  “Nope. That big ape is her brother-in-law. The older ones are her in-laws, and the man they travel with is just a friend.”

  Josh rolled some tobacco into a piece of paper and licked it, then stuck it in his mouth and lit it. “I’ll be damned. When I saw the whole family on the riverboat, I thought she was married to MacKinder.”

  Cap touched his arm and Josh turned to look down at him. “I want no trouble on this train, Josh. You understand me?”

  Josh puffed on the crude cigarette. “You’ll get none from me. I don’t start trouble, Cap; but if somebody brings it to me, I finish the job.”

  “Those MacKinders, they’re a tight family; don’t do much socializing. John MacKinder has a grizzly bear’s temperament. Stay away from them.”

  Josh tipped his hat. “I’ll do just that. In fact, if you’ll tend to my pack horses, I’ll ride out right now ahead of the train and do some hunting.”