Beth was trying to cover herself where Howell had ripped her clothing. “No! Thank God Eli stopped him!”
“Drag him out of here,” Joe ordered.
Captain Howell was dragged from the wagon and dumped on the ground unconscious. Beth was helped from the wagon in a much gentler fashion. She was sobbing in fright and a woman wrapped a blanket around her. Someone else brought a straight-backed chair and eased the shivering Beth into it.
“Ma’am,” Joe Braxton asked gently, kneeling in front of her. “Did the captain rape you?”
Beth shook her head. “He was trying to…to…hurt me. I screamed and fought. Eli stopped him.”
“Mr. Flanders, why were you still awake?” Joe asked.
“I’ve been keeping an eye on Mrs. Wakefield,” Eli Flanders answered. “Captain Howell has been acting awful peculiar lately, especially toward Mrs. Wakefield. He acts as if he hates her, except he has been watching her with evil in his eyes. I am a peaceable man, but I didn’t care for the way he was behaving toward her. My sons and I have been taking turns keeping a watch over her at night.
“He was attacking her with intent to harm. I did what was necessary to stop him.” The gentle man looked at the ax handle still in his hand. It had blood on the end of it. He recoiled and dropped it to the ground.
As second in command of the wagon train, Joe Braxton considered the woman in question. She was still shaking while one of the other women stood behind her rubbing her shoulders in comfort. She had an imprint of a man’s hand on her neck, and blood on her mouth and chin. He considered Captain Howell on the ground and realized the blood was not hers. She had come close to biting off the Captain’s ear defending herself.
“Can one of you women take care of her?” he asked and the woman standing behind Beth nodded her head yes. She and another woman nudged Beth to her feet, and nearly carried her to a wagon and helped her inside.
“What will we do with him?” one of the men asked.
“According to the by-laws of this wagon train, rape is punishable by sixty lashes with a horse whip,” Joe said.
“It would damn near kill a man,” another man commented.
“It’s meant to,” Joe answered. “From what Mrs. Wakefield said, though, he didn’t rape her. He did assault her, tried to force himself on her. This kind of an assault is punishable by forty lashes. Drag him to the main camp area and tie him to a wheel of the chuck wagon. Wake up every man on this train. We have decisions to make. Captain Howell has been relieved of his duties.”
“He ain’t woke up yet to tell his side of the story,” one man disagreed.
“He doesn’t have a side,” Sergeant Braxton said. “He was caught dead to rights. We don’t have a court of law here. All we need is proof, and we have it with two witnesses, Mrs. Wakefield and Mr. Flanders.”
***
Dr. Wilber Harper was roused from his bed. He might not be a medical doctor, but he had a supply of morphine, which he could administer to a traumatized woman.
Beth slept as several women tended to her, cleaning her blistered hands and applying poultices to her bruises. While she was helped to a gentler place by a powerful sedative, the wagon train plodded forward. Captain Claude Howell was fired, although in his still unconscious state, he was unaware of it. Sergeant Joe Braxton was voted to take his place as wagon master. Although Eli Flanders prayed he had not killed a man, if Howell did die, Eli knew he had acted in good conscious to protect a woman.
When Beth awoke a few days later, she found herself being hand fed by a woman she only knew by her last name. She was wearing a clean white nightgown and lay in a neatly made bed as she was jostled around inside the wagon.
“What happened? Oh!” As the memories flooded her mind, Beth gasped. “Was I defiled?”
“No, he was stopped before he could hurt you,” the woman responded. “Mr. Flanders stopped the captain… stopped him.”
“How long have I been asleep?”
“Several days,” the woman answered. “It was a frightening experience, Mrs. Wakefield. The doctor has been giving you medicine to calm your nerves. He figured you had been scared out of your wits and needed the rest. By the way, I’m Thelma Walsh.”
“Oh,” Beth said, very much relieved as her head began to clear and she remembered. “Have we reached the Denver trailhead? Has anyone seen Mr. Wakefield?”
“We are due at the Denver trailhead in a day’s time, maybe two, according to my husband,” Thelma responded. “We won’t see Mr. Wakefield before then unless there are Indians ahead, and he needs to ride back to warn us.”
“I don’t understand?” Beth said still slightly confused. “If I’ve been ill, who’s been driving my wagon? The captain said if any wagon caused a delay, it would be removed from the train and left behind.”
“We have a new leader of the wagon train,” another woman said coming through the bonnet flaps. “I’ll take a shift of watching Mrs. Wakefield, Thelma. Mrs. Wakefield, my name is Tilly.”
The Ross boy had returned to his job of driving Garret’s wagon. Some of the women of the wagon train came to Beth and apologized for not helping her before this. After the demonstration of Howell’s followers whipping their wives, the captain had warned everyone to stay away from Beth. Their husbands had no liking for Howell, yet they were all under contract to him. They feared if they challenged him, their families would be left behind.
The women of the wagon train went through their meager belongings to donate to Beth clothing and items precious to a woman, such as a hairbrush, comb, and a few hairpins. They knew she had lost everything when her wagon had been burned. The captain’s orders had been to stay away from her and because his punishments were so severe, the women had been forced to obey. Now, Beth found herself pampered the rest of the day, although the ride in the wagon was not the smoothest and nearly bounced her out of the narrow cot several times. There was a valid reason most women chose to walk instead of riding in the wagon.
The next morning, Beth was back in Garret’s wagon sitting beside the young Ross boy. Joe Braxton came by to talk. He apologized and told her she was in no way to blame for what had happened. She shook her head in bewilderment, as she had not thought she was to blame and wondered why the man felt the need to inform her of such.
The wagon train was now firmly under Braxton’s control, and he would make an effort to see everyone was treated fairly. He came by twice the first day, both times suggesting Beth rest and not exert herself. The sergeant was genuinely sorry they had taken no action against Captain Howell before he attacked her.
The difference a new captain made on the wagon train was amazing. The settlers were more friendly and helpful to each other. They visited each other’s campsites and spent their evenings talking among themselves becoming familiar with who was best at what.
On the day they arrived at the trailhead of the Denver Road, Beth was anxiously awaiting Garret’s appearance. At the end of the day’s trek, they formed the familiar circle and went about their normal chores. She kept a watchful eye for Garret. She was returning from visiting one of her new friends when she saw a single rider in the distance. As the rider quickly rode across the plain, men reached for their rifles and women gathered their children closer. It could have been anyone coming to the encampment, Indian, or foe.
Suddenly, Beth ran outside the circle of wagons toward the rider. As he came closer, he leaned over and lifted her into the saddle in front of him. There were sighs of relief as the members of the wagon train recognized their scout, Garret Wakefield.
Nothing could have thrilled Garret more than to see Beth running to him. He had spent hard days riding the plains and had given a lot of thought to his hasty decision to marry. He had worried about leaving her behind without the commitment of a wedding night fearing she would change her mind in his absence.
“Beth,” Garret breathed in relief as he held and kissed her once, twice. After the third kiss, he pulled back to look at his wife. He frowned at her palene
ss and some bruising on her jaw and neck.
“What happened?”
“I’ll tell you later,” Beth murmured. “Can you hold me for a minute or so?”
“My pleasure.”
Beth soaked in Garret’s strength, his solidness, even his smell, which was none too pleasant with him having been on the trail and living rough for almost two weeks. Still, it was Garret. He was back, and she felt safe in his arms.
Something bad had happened. Garret could feel it, but sensed Beth was not ready to tell him. He could feel her relax in his arms, and it was enough for now, as she seemed to melt into him. With a firm arm around her waist, he kicked in his heels and covered the remaining distance to the wagon train.
Sergeant Braxton met Garret when he reined his horse to a stop. He stood waiting as Beth was lifted to the ground. “I need to talk to you.”
“Give me a few minutes,” Garret said.
“No,” Joe insisted, giving Beth a sideways nod of his head indicating she should go away. She was a smart girl and got the drift of what he was not saying, and she headed for their wagon.
Joe took Garret outside the encampment to inform him of what had happened.
“That son of a bitch!” Garret exploded a few minutes later. “I’ll kill him!”
“It’s too late,” Joe said putting a calming hand on Garret’s shoulder. “Howell died last night from the blow to his head, and we buried him this morning before we broke camp. He was stopped before he could hurt her.”
“Hurt her! He tried to rape her!”
“He paid for it with his life,” Joe said calmly. “You should be proud of your wife. She fought him. He did not manage to hurt her badly, but he did pay for his crime. Your wife needs to lean on you, Garret. It’s been rough on her. She needs gentleness, not anger. There are times when a man has to stand by his woman the same as she has to stand by you. You took it on when you married her.”
Garret felt sick to his stomach. He walked away from Joe, away from the camp, and stood on the worn path of hundreds of thousands of people all searching for a better life. He clenched his fists and wished there was something he could hit, a tree…a boulder…the man who had been put in his grave only hours before. Garret finally turned, and walked back to camp and to his wife.
She was squatting by the campfire where he saw her pull an iron pot from the fire and set it on the ground. When she saw him, she stood and looked at him with fear in her eyes. He hated seeing the fear and wariness. She had run to him before without fear in her eyes, now it was there.
“Beth,” Garret went to her. He closed his arms around her and pulled her into his embrace, rocking her slightly. “I’m sorry I left you to face him. Joe said he didn’t…’
“No, he didn’t…” she interrupted quickly, “Eli stopped him.”
“He hurt you, though,” Garret said, lightly touching the dark marks on her jaw.
“He mostly scared me. The bruises will heal and the memories will fade, Garret.”
“My brave, beautiful Beth,” Garret whispered into her hair. “I failed you again. I promised no harm would come to you, yet I wasn’t here to protect you.”
“I didn’t have time to get to the gun,” she murmured. “I’m glad, though, because I wouldn’t have wanted to kill a man.”
“He attacked you,” Garret snapped suddenly furious. “I would have killed him with my bare hands! Aren’t you angry?”
“Of course, I’m angry. He acted as if he hated me. Almost from the moment he laid eyes on me, he hated me. I don’t understand why. He even told lies about me! He told the settlers I was an indecent woman. Why would he lie and make me out to be someone I’m not?”
Garret closed his eyes and shook his head in disgust. “I don’t know. We all thought he was acting strangely. He was often a hard taskmaster to the point of being cruel, and we should have put a stop to it. His behavior was plum crazy. I should have stayed with you. Can you forgive me?”
“The only person who needs forgiveness will have to get it when he goes before God for his judgment. I was afraid you would be angry and blame me.”
“Why would you think I’d blame you? You haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Women get blamed all the time for transgressions of men,” Beth said frankly. “It’s not fair, yet a man’s word holds more weight than a woman’s. I’m quite sure had Howell awakened, he would have blamed me.”
“The wrongs were committed against you, Beth. Are you still prepared to be my wife?”
“I am your wife, Garret. You are the only family I have now.”
“I will take care of you, Beth. I made this promise to you before and I failed. This time, I will keep my word until the day I die.”
The wagon train camped at the trailhead for an extra day. Garret was jumping off to follow the southwestern path to the Denver settlement named for the trail. He worked with several other men to ensure his wagon was in perfect order. He and Beth still had more than two hundred hard miles of travel ahead of them. The terrain would get rougher on the wagon, the animals, and them.
Garret wished he could do something nice for Beth, perhaps buy her something to show her how much he cared and how much he wanted her. Being a settler meant starting from scratch and building a future together. He wanted his future to be with Beth. He wanted her in every way a man should want his wife.
His job as a scout had been a dangerous one before the war. Since the war, the conflicts between the Army and the Indians had escalated. Military men in search of fame and promotions had massacred several peaceful encampments of old men, women, and children. They claimed they had done the unconscionable to keep the peace. Even the military tribunals saw through their cowardliness in attacking the old, feeble, and helpless. The slaughter of helpless woman and children could not be spun into a tale of heroism.
Their actions had enraged the tribes and rightfully so. Many warriors had broken away from their more peaceful leaders and formed renegade bands, which raided and murdered white settlers in revenge.
Garret had been riding the trails since he was a young man and he had a good rapport with most of the tribal leaders, even some of the renegades. It was the younger, hate driven renegades who concerned him the most. The young bucks were angry and out for revenge. Those were the kind of natives who were dangerous.
It had been his job to scout ahead and either negotiate, threaten, or deal with the tribe leaders and bands. His job had been to protect the wagon train, but he had failed the one person he had promised to protect. Beth had been hurt during his absence, and he would not allow any more harm to come to her. He had been angry when he saw the bruises. He had been shaken when he saw her hands. They were a mess, raw and covered with blisters.
When they bedded down for the night, Garret told Beth to take the bed in the wagon. He would sleep under the wagon on a bedroll. She was confused by Garret’s behavior. He said he was not angry with her and did not blame her, yet he made no effort to behave like a husband. He had held her and kissed her when he returned from scouting. He had barely touched her since.
The next morning, Garret took care of all the morning chores and became angry when Beth tried to help. He even insisted on cooking their breakfast. He did not allow her to be his helpmate. He did everything. When he lifted her onto the wagon seat, he touched her as if she were fragile.
They were leaving the wagon train. It was called jumping off. He and Beth would travel alone on a different trail. A younger man on the train would take Garret’s place as the scout.
Garret settled his affairs with Joe Braxton and said his goodbyes to the men he had worked with for several trips across the Oregon Trail. Beth was teary as she said her farewells to the women who had befriended her once Captain Howell had not been around to threaten them.
They left the wagon train, venturing south away from the protection of the train. The settlement of Denver was still several hundred miles away. During the first day of travel, they were both quiet.
&
nbsp; Something was wrong between them. Garret could feel it. Only, he had no idea what to do about it. Barely a word had been spoken between them, and the silence was growing louder. They were two strangers with no idea how to communicate with each other.
Garret pulled the wagon off the trail and drove the oxen toward a grassy valley. He had taken this trail before since he had been to the settlement in Denver many times and knew his way. It was early to stop for the day, except he thought Beth might need the rest. Each time he suggested she lie down in the wagon, she refused.
He hobbled the horses and oxen and left them to graze. He carried a bucket of water to their camp where he found her attempting to start a campfire with her injured hands.
“Let me make the fire,” Garret said.
“I did it while you were scouting,” Beth argued. “I can do it now. I have to do my share.”
Garret went to the wagon and brought out a box, and then sat down on the ground by her. He pulled her hands into his, and unwrapped the bandages and cleaned them gently.
“Don’t wrap them, again. I think my hands are healed enough to be in the open air.”
Garret lifted her hand and gently kissed the inside of her palm. “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have been driving.”
“I was doing what I had to do.”
“Including marrying me,” Garret countered with a grimace. “Beth, I knew Howell was acting crazy, and I’m ashamed to say I used it against you. I’m no better than him. I have been watching you ever since your brother signed on with the train. You were a distraction I didn’t need, but I couldn’t help myself. Anytime I could catch a glimpse of you, it made me happy. You are so beautiful, and I couldn’t forget those memories of our night together. When the captain decided to marry you off, I jumped at the chance to bind you to me. I couldn’t let another man have you. I wanted you for myself, for my wife.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you felt this way before?”
“Because your brother was around and he made himself clear, I wasn’t a suitable suitor for his sister. Because I used you before. It wasn’t my intention. I swear to God it wasn’t. You were so beautiful and so kind in the middle of a godforsaken war. Being with you was the best night of my life. I kept those memories locked inside me. It kept me sane when I was riding into hell on those battlefields.
A Path Worth Taking Page 5
