Wagon Train Baby_Christian historical romance

by Linda Ford

  Luke waited, wanting Donna Grace to answer the question that pressed at his thoughts. When it seemed she wouldn’t, he asked it. “Why did you marry him?”

  “I cannot, for the life of me, think why I did.”

  “You must have loved him at one time.”

  “I suppose I fancied myself in love with him. Or maybe I simply liked the idea of love and home and family. He never talked about his family, so I assumed he was alone in the world. I fear I thought that would make him look at me as totally necessary for his happiness.” Her hands twisted together until her knuckles turned into tight little marbles.

  He unfisted his hands and reached for hers, cradling them between his palms.

  She leaned into his shoulder. “In hindsight, I see that I was foolish and desperately seeking approval, which he readily gave me, but it was only words. I meant nothing to him.”

  Luke rested his cheek to her hair. “Donna Grace, why would you want approval that badly? You are a strong, independent woman who—” He wanted to say she needed no one but he didn’t want her to think that. No, wait, it wasn’t needing someone he wanted her to believe, it was wanting someone. “You are capable of taking care of yourself, if that is what you want.”

  She sat up. “Melvin has left me little choice. All that matters now is taking care of Elena.”

  He wished he heard more conviction in her voice.

  She rose to her feet. “I don’t like to be away from her too long.”

  “Of course.” The opportunity to tell her about the letter in his pocket had passed. Perhaps it was for the best.

  They walked slowly back to the camp.

  Again, she paused to watch the teamsters. The tall man she’d mentioned still stood by the wagon.

  “There’s something about him that seems familiar,” she murmured. “But I can’t place him.” With a shake of her head, she moved on. “Surely, as I said, he simply reminds me of the kind of man I saw often back in Santa Fe.”

  Luke resisted the urge to say if that was the sort of man she encountered, it was no wonder that her grandfather didn’t want her playing in the plaza.

  Elena slept peacefully in Mary Mae’s arms when they returned. Little Polly hung over Mary Mae’s shoulder admiring the baby. Donna Grace hurried to her sister’s side.

  “Did she fuss?”

  “She’s been as good as gold.”

  Luke leaned back on his heels watching the cluster of people around the baby. He chuckled low in his throat, bringing Donna Grace’s inquiring gaze to him.

  Still grinning he answered her silent question. “I find myself amazed and amused at how much attention one tiny baby garners.”

  “It’s ‘cause she’s so sweet and little and everything,” Polly said.

  “I agree.” His enthusiasm earned him an approving smile from Donna Grace.

  “I need to check on the freighters.” He hurried away, his thoughts haunting him. How was he to let Donna Grace and the baby go when the time came?

  But he couldn’t go back on his word.

  The next day brought no rain. Buck insisted they travel long hours in an attempt to make up for lost time. He insisted they would reach Cottonwood Crossing before nightfall. And they did so by pushing on until dark.

  They circled the wagons and took care of the animals, taking them down the steep bank to the river for water while the women made a fire and prepared a meal.

  Luke returned to hear Donna Grace laughing and paused to enjoy the pleasure that coursed through his veins at the sound of her merriment. Having her on this trip had changed everything about it. No longer was getting wagons across the plains and the prairie all that mattered. He looked forward to the evening meal with far more anticipation than he ever had when sharing it with the teamsters.

  A man could get used to a woman to share his life.

  His feet jerked to a halt.

  He’d planned on sharing his life with Ellen and learned how badly he could fail, and how painful his failure could be. It was foolhardy to contemplate repeating that lesson.

  Rather than go to the campfire where the others gathered, he sidetracked toward the river again. A rustling in the nearby bushes brought him up short.

  He put his hand on his sidearm and waited.

  A tall figure eased from the bushes and strode toward the wagons without noticing Luke in the shadows. It was the man who had joined them. The one Donna Grace thought looked familiar. The man stopped by the Russell wagon. He appeared to be watching Donna Grace and the others.

  Luke waited, watching. The man wandered back toward the teamsters. Only when he stepped over the wagon tongue and joined the others did Luke move. He would keep an eye on that man but doing so proved nigh unto impossible as they spent the next day getting wagons down the steep slope and across the creek. The women opted to stay on the near side searching the bushes for late gooseberries and raspberries. The men hurried back and forth, double teaming the animals to pull the wagons through the muddy creek. The tall man, whose name he’d learned was Manuel Garcia, made himself useful helping with the work. So long as Luke could see him he didn’t worry.

  The hope of finding berries this late in the season drew the women like the promise of ice cream at a summer picnic. Donna Grace fashioned a sling so Elena rode safely in front of her.

  “I don’t expect there will be enough to make a cobbler,” she said with the authority of one who had been over the trail before. “When we were here last time, the bushes were loaded with gooseberries, raspberries and prairie plums, but that was July.”

  “I’m taking a pot just in case,” Judith said. “The men would surely appreciate any sort of fresh fruit.”

  Mary Mae steadied Donna Grace as they made their way down the steep slope. Cottonwood trees held out arms with fingers of gold and yellow leaves. Bushes crowded to the edge of the stream. The women spread out and pushed their way into the prickly raspberry bushes with the occasional red berry clinging to the branches.

  Donna Grace picked half a dozen and popped them into her mouth, pressing the fruit against the roof of her mouth to squish out the sweet burst of flavor. She almost moaned with delight. She moved on, drawn forward by the enticement of more, and was not disappointed.

  A thicket of gooseberry bushes with its cruel thorns were no match for a woman set on enjoying their fruit. But she had to be careful not to let the thorns poke Elena, so she left the gooseberries.

  Donna Grace moved on, now intent on finding enough fruit to take back for Luke—for the men, she amended quickly. She heard Mary Mae and Judith to one side. Polly was with them and her childish voice carried clearly in the air.

  A soft voice informed her Mrs. Shepton was close enough to speak to the others.

  The sound of one of the women thrashing through the bushes brought a smile to her lips. Seems they were all determined to find as many berries as possible.

  She stumbled on a root and caught herself. Her heart kicked her ribs at the realization she might have fallen on Elena. She must be more careful. The bushes gave way to a small clearing and she stepped into it. That’s when she saw the tall man from the wagon train, astride a horse.

  What was he doing here? Fear turned her stomach sour.

  She slowly retreated.

  The rider rode around her, blocking her escape. Exactly the way Grandfather had herded her from the plaza. Anger replaced her fear, and she stood still and faced the man.

  “Who are you and what do you want?”

  He leaned over, resting his arms on the pommel of his saddle. “You don’t remember me?”

  She shook her head as she tried to place his familiar face.

  “Well, I remember you, Miss Clark.”

  “It’s Mrs. Russell.” Hopefully the name would cause him to reconsider whatever evil intent he had.

  “Señor Ramos is your grandfather.”

  She stared at him without acknowledging his statement. “Who are you?”

  “I’m not surprised the high an
d mighty little girl who used to play with my Rosa would not remember a mere peasant.”

  She didn’t remember him as a peasant. He’d had a tiny, but successful little trading post. “You’re Mr. Garcia? Rosa’s father? Where is Rosa? I have missed her so much.”

  “Little you care about Rosa.”

  “I named my baby after her. Her name is Elena Rose.” She pressed a protective hand to her daughter as her mind raced. She had to convince this man that they should be friends. “I would love to contact Rosa. Do you have her address?”

  “You’ll never hear from her.” He edged his horse closer.

  Donna Grace backed away never taking her eyes off the man. The look in his eyes frightened her, but she would not let him guess it.

  “What do you want?”

  He laughed, a sound that sent a shiver across her shoulders. “Your grandfather put me out of business. He threatened my family.”

  “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

  “Now he will pay.” Mr. Garcia swung down from his horse and strode toward Donna Grace.

  She glanced to the right and the left.

  He gave another of those frightening laughs. “There is no place to run.” He took another step. “I wonder how much he will pay to see his granddaughter and great-granddaughter safe?”

  Knowing his intent fueled a burst of desperate energy and she feinted to the right and as he lunged after her, she ran to the left.

  “Mary Mae. Help! Someone. Help!” Fear made her voice thinner than usual. How far would that weak cry go?

  She made it to the edge of the woods before he clamped a cruel hand around her arm and jerked her to a halt. He pressed a smelly hand over her mouth.

  “Here now. Don’t be foolish. You can’t get away, so no point in trying. And if you holler again I might have to persuade you to be quiet.” He patted Elena and she understood his threat.

  She bit her tongue to keep from spitting out the words burning in her brain. She would never stop trying to escape this man, but she would not put Elena at risk doing so. God in heaven protect us and guide us.

  He forced her back to the horse. “You can get on or I can throw you on. Might hurt the baby if I do that.”

  She guessed he wouldn’t hesitate to hurt Elena. “I’ll get on.” The horse was tall and the baby in front of her made it awkward, but she managed to pull herself to the saddle and sat astride. One of the many things her grandfather had objected to.

  What would he say if he saw her now?

  Mr. Garcia led the horse away. Donna Grace ducked to keep from having her brow battered by the low branches of the trees as they entered the woods.

  At least they wouldn’t go fast with him walking.

  Then she saw a second horse ahead, saddled and waiting and she pressed back a groan. “Where are you taking me?”

  “Don’t see that it matters to you.” He swung into the saddle, holding her horse’s reins firmly, leaving her no choice but to follow at his side.

  Señor Garcia led them through thick bushes that tore at Donna Grace’s skirts. Her legs would be a mess of scratches, but there existed no room for pain amidst her fear and anger.

  Her knee pressed to the man’s as the thin trail narrowed.

  He leered at her. “You’re not a kid any longer. You turned out to be a nice-looking woman.”

  Donna Grace stared straight ahead, praying her shock at his comments didn’t show. Perhaps talking about his daughter would divert her attention from staring at her with that hungry look. “I expect Rosa is all grown up now, too. Is she married?”

  He jerked his attention to the trail. “You never mind Rosa, you hear?”

  Elena stirred. Donna Grace patted her. Please, my sweet baby, don’t need to eat right now. The thought of having to feed her before Señor Garcia brought a bitter taste to her mouth.

  The man turned away from the river and climbed the bank. With one hand, Donna Grace clung to the saddle horn to hold herself in place. With the other, she cradled the baby.

  They left the bushes which allowed her to put a few more inches between the two horses.

  Señor Garcia noticed her vain efforts. “Still too good for a Garcia.”

  It stung that her grandfather had judged her for befriending Rosa, and Rosa’s father judged her for the opposite reason. “Rosa was my best friend.”

  At the man’s cruel laughter, she wished she had kept her thoughts to herself.

  They angled away from the river. Donna Grace looked about. She must take note of any landmarks because if… no, when… she escaped she’d have to know how to get back to the wagon.

  Señor Garcia saw how she looked around and he laughed again, sending shivers up and down her spine. “You think you might be coming back this way? Forget it. You will stay with me until your grandfather pays.”

  “Are you taking me to Santa Fe?”

  He snorted. “In Santa Fe your grandfather can buy loyalty. That’d be the last place I’d take you.”

  So what would be the first place? She could not imagine. They were miles from any settlement. What did he have in mind? Her jaw ached from clenching her teeth and she managed to unpry the muscles. How long had they been traveling? She looked to the sky. Still several hours of daylight. Where would darkness find them?

  Luke, she silently called. Will you come looking for me?

  She smiled despite her situation. One thing she knew for sure about the man she had married. He took his responsibilities—whether real or pretend—seriously. He would track her until he found her.

  But it would mean losing time. Buck would insist on going on. Oh, she did not want to be the cause of so much trouble.

  No, far better to find her own way out, with God’s help.

  Never before had she felt the need to trust God so completely.

  14

  The last wagon crossed safely and Luke rushed back to bring over the Clark wagon.

  “Donna Grace, we’re ready to cross,” he called. Not getting an answer, he went to the back of the Clark wagon to see if she rested inside. She did not.

  He went to the Russell wagon. Judith was busy sorting the berries they’d picked. “Where’s Donna Grace?”

  Judith looked about. “I don’t know. We just got back.”

  Mary Mae came around from the back of the wagon. “Maybe she stopped to feed the baby. She should be along any minute.”

  They all stared toward the bushes, waiting for her to appear. A hundred different reasons for her delay raced through his mind. The baby might be demanding attention. She might be struggling to climb the hill with the baby in her arms. Or she might have fallen and hurt herself. Each thought made her situation worse in his imagination.

  His heart thudded. “I’ll get her.” He skidded down the slope to the cottonwood trees and the tangle of bushes. Birds stopped singing as he paused beneath the trees. In the quiet stillness, he strained to hear any sound to indicate where he’d find Donna Grace and Elena. A crow cawed. A chickadee scolded. Somewhere, a seed pod snapped. Nothing that sounded the least bit human. No sound of movement. No baby cry or mama’s crooning.

  “Donna Grace, where are you?” he shouted.

  Birds flapped from the trees at his noisy intrusion, but no answering call came from Donna Grace. Had she fallen asleep? He pushed through the bushes, easily following the trail the women made earlier by the broken twigs and branches picked clean of berries. A bit of material clung to a thorny branch. He recognized it as fabric from the dark blue dress Donna Grace wore this morning. She had been here, but where was she now?

  Again, he stopped, listened, and called her name. Still nothing. He pushed onward.

  Perhaps she’d gone too far and got turned around in her directions.

  He came to a small clearing and bent down to examine the ground. Tracks of a horse. The grass had been disturbed as if a man had stood there. He thought he saw smaller boot tracks perhaps made by a woman, but they were trampled by the horse tracks.

  Luke
straightened. His skin twitched. What was going on? Slowly he turned full circle studying every inch of the woods circling the clearing.

  A narrow trail led from the opening, away from camp. Should he follow it, or search the nearby bushes to see if Donna Grace lay hurt somewhere?

  He considered his options, could think of no reason she would be riding a horse down a trail through the woods. Thinking he must have missed her, he searched the bushes more thoroughly. Nothing. “Donna Grace,” he called several times, each time his feeling of frustration mounting. It was impossible for a woman and baby to vanish.

  There had been one sign and he returned to the clearing and examined the ground more closely but the only tracks he could make out with any certainty were those of a man and a horse. Desperate to understand what had happened to Donna Grace, he followed the narrow trail studying the ground for clues.

  A boot track. Was the man leading the horse? Why? He examined the horse tracks more closely and could see no sign of the animal favoring one foot.

  Not knowing what else to do, he continued to follow the trail. It widened and he made out a second set of horse tracks, this one a heavier, bigger horse. Two horses for one man? Or was there a second mounted man?

  And where, in all this, was Donna Grace and the baby?

  Desperate for answers or clues, he continued to follow the trail. The bushes thinned slightly as the river valley widened.

  He jerked to a halt. The tracks led to the right, away from the river. He scrambled up the bank. The tracks continued at an angle. He cupped his hand over his eyes and stared into the prairie.

  But he saw nothing even though he stared long enough that the distance began to shimmer.

  He squatted down to think. He could chase after a mirage while Donna Grace lay somewhere behind him, needing help.

  But if she had ridden away—why would she do that?

  He went back to where the horses had turned away from the river, hoping and praying for something to guide him. There was nothing but tracks that told him only that two riders had passed this way. No indication of who those riders might be. He stayed hunkered down studying the ground as if he waited long enough, the earth itself would rise up and provide the answers he needed.