It was already nearing noon, and time was in short supply for her to get everything ready for their imminent departure.
Their father had outfitted them well for the journey, but when he’d taken ill their covered wagon and oxen had been left at the livery stable, while the Prescott family took rooms in a nearby boardinghouse.
The livery was her first stop.
Stepping into the dim interior, she searched out the stable master. He accepted without comment her explanation that she was a young man running an errand for the Prescott sisters, and he promised to have the oxen hitched to the wagon and delivered to the boardinghouse first thing the following morning.
Their supplies had remained loaded in the covered wagon, and all that was left for them to do tomorrow was add the trunks of personal items, which still needed to be packed back at the boardinghouse.
She’d left Adela there alone without explanation and had been gone longer than she’d anticipated. The younger girl must be frantic by now. Mattie felt terrible for causing her sister additional fear and worry, after the last ten days of uncertainty they’d already gone through since their father’s passing.
As she neared the boardinghouse, her steps slowed. The livery had been easy, but this next part might prove more challenging. While a strange male roused little suspicion in a stable, his presence wouldn’t go unquestioned in a genteel rooming establishment.
But she’d come too far to lose her nerve now.
Straightening her shoulders, she turned the knob on the front door. The hinges squealed as the heavy oak door swung open. She winced and swept a furtive look around. Seeing neither the landlady nor any of the other boarders, she quickly headed toward the stairs. All the way up to her room, she expected to hear a voice behind her demanding to know why she was skulking through the house. But she didn’t encounter anyone.
She opened the door to her room and stepped inside, a sigh of relief gusting out of her tight chest.
Adela was bent over an open trunk, a silver-backed hairbrush in her hand. She glanced up as the door clicked shut. Her eyes widening in fright, she let out a high-pitched shriek.
“Shh, Adela.” The last thing they needed was someone bursting into their room to investigate.
She took a step toward her sister.
But the other girl backed away. “Don’t you come any closer, or I’ll scream again,” she warned, brandishing the hairbrush as if it was a sword.
“Adela, it’s me.” Removing her hat, she set it on the marble-topped bureau.
“Mattie? You scared me to death!” The hairbrush slipped from her fingers, and she placed her hand over her heart. Then her mouth dropped open as she took notice of Mattie’s altered appearance. “What happened to your hair?!”
Mattie fingered a short lock. She didn’t have to look in the mirror to know what she’d see—ragged chunks cut close to her head, instead of the long brown curls that had reached almost to her hips.
Adela plopped down onto the bed. “And why are you dressed like that? Those look like Papa’s clothes.” Tears filled her eyes at the mention of their father.
“These are Papa’s clothes.” She dropped her hand from her shorn strands, refusing to mourn anything as silly as hair. The loss of their beloved father was much more significant. The pain throbbed like a physical wound, but she kept a tight rein on her emotions. Though they’d buried him little more than a week ago, she couldn’t wallow in grief. “I came up with a way for us to reach Oregon Country.”
And she’d acted quickly, not giving herself time to rethink the daring plan and change her mind. After hacking off her hair, she’d changed into her father’s clothes. He had been taller and broader than Mattie, and the garments hung on her. But the loose material helped to disguise her feminine figure.
Adela wiped a tear away and shook her head in confusion. “How can we do that? Two females can’t travel alone, Matilda. You know that.”
“You seem to be missing the fact that we aren’t two females anymore. Matt Prescott, at your service.” She executed an exaggerated bow.
“Do you really think you’re going to fool anyone with that ridiculous getup?”
“I fooled you, didn’t I? Or was it someone else who screamed and threatened me with a hairbrush when I entered the room?”
Adela colored at the reminder. “You surprised me. I would have realized it was you in a moment or two.”
“True. But you’re my sister. A stranger won’t know me from Adam. I was out most of the morning dressed like this, and nobody doubted I was a man.” Though to be completely honest, Josiah Dawson was a disturbing question mark on that point. However, he hadn’t confronted her, and that was good enough for now.
She hoped her disguise would hold for the whole journey, but once they were out on the trail, surely the wagon master would have to let them stay, even if her gender was revealed.
“I still don’t think your plan will work,” Adela argued.
“It already has.” She opened a bureau drawer and started pulling out garments, then moved to her trunk and tucked the items inside. Though she’d have little use for the feminine clothing in the coming months, once they reached Oregon Country she’d be glad to have them. Her father’s clothes, except for the pants and shirt she wore, were packed away in another trunk. “The wagon master’s agreed to let us—or to be precise, ‘Matt’ and his sister—join his group.”
“So that’s why you left the table in the middle of breakfast. I did wonder over your abrupt departure, but I never imagined you’d come up with such a harebrained scheme.”
Mattie turned toward her sister. “Do you have a better idea? We’re paid up through the end of the week, but after that we don’t have the money to pay for this room.”
“We could sell the covered wagon, oxen and supplies, couldn’t we?”
“Yes, but the cash we’d receive wouldn’t last forever. When it ran out, what would we do? How would we support ourselves?”
“One of us could find a husband and get married.” Adela’s curls bobbed up and down as she nodded her head, the chestnut strands shimmering in the stream of sunlight spilling through the window.
She made a stark contrast to Mattie right now.
“I doubt any man would want to take me as a wife, looking like this.”
But it was no great loss since she didn’t particularly want a husband anyway. At least, not right now. If circumstances forced her to marry in haste, she wouldn’t have a chance to truly get to know her bridegroom first. To place herself and Adela completely under a man’s power without being absolutely certain of his character was unthinkable.
Mattie had made a narrow escape back in Saint Louis and wouldn’t make the same mistake again, judging a man by outward appearances without taking the time to discover if the inside matched his outer facade.
Hopefully her fifteen-year-old sister had learned from Mattie’s error, as well. “Do you want to marry a strange man and put your trust in him?”
The younger girl shook her head, clearly recognizing the pitfalls in that arrangement.
Mattie grasped her sister’s hands. “This is the only way.”
But Adela still looked doubtful. And with good reason.
Though their biggest obstacle—convincing the wagon master to let them join the wagon train—had been overcome, any number of other things could go wrong in the coming days.
Even if no one else knew it, they were two women alone, with only God’s protection against whatever dangers they faced.
Would she and Adela be up to the journey ahead?
Chapter Two
“It’s not too late to change your mind, Mattie.”
Adela’s words echoed Mattie’s inner doubts as she surveyed the wagons and oxen teams lined up at the Missouri River’s ferry crossing.
> Was she making a mistake?
She hadn’t thought so a short time ago when their covered wagon had arrived at the boardinghouse as promised. While Mattie stayed out of sight, Adela had overseen the loading of their trunks without incident, and they were quickly under way.
Now, however, Mattie’s earlier confidence was suffering a decided downturn.
She shifted her gaze to focus on her sister. Adela certainly didn’t look like a girl about to embark on an arduous four or five month journey. She was decked out in a fancy costume complete with frilly parasol, as if going for a casual jaunt around the park.
Before his passing, their father had purchased practical garments suitable for travel for himself and his daughters. Mattie, seeing little sense in hanging on to remnants of the past, had gotten rid of anything she wouldn’t need in her new life. But Adela had flatly refused to part with so much as a lacy hankie from her wardrobe, despite the fact that wagon space was limited and expensive fabrics had no place on the trail.
It wasn’t surprising she’d dug in her heels over the issue, however, since she’d been against this trip from the start. She hadn’t wanted to give up their life in Saint Louis.
And Mattie felt personally responsible for her unhappiness. The family’s financial decline was a direct result of choices Mattie had made.
But neither her guilt nor Adela’s objections could restore what they’d lost. That life was gone, whether they returned to the city or not. Adela would have to come to terms with their changed circumstances.
Their best hope for a bright and joyous future lay ahead in Oregon Country.
Taking a deep breath, Mattie stiffened her own flagging resolve. “We can’t go back. And remember to call me ‘Matt.’ No one can know the truth.” She didn’t want to consider what might happen if Adela accidentally called her Mattie in front of anyone.
“I’m sorry. It just slipped out. But I’ll be more careful. I promise.”
Mattie steered the oxen toward the end of the line and drew them to a halt behind the last wagon. The lowing of cattle and whiny of horses mixed with the sound of people shouting and whips cracking, creating a cacophony of noise.
Several minutes passed without any movement forward.
Adela fanned herself with one lace-gloved hand and huffed out an impatient sigh. “How long will we have to wait for our turn to cross the river?”
Scanning the dozen or so covered wagons waiting ahead of them, Mattie shook her head in answer. “I don’t know.”
“Hours, most like,” a male voice interjected.
Mattie turned toward the speaker and recognized the bearded man who had pointed out Miles Carpenter to her the previous day. Of medium height and build, he looked to be in his forties or fifties.
He nudged the brim of his hat up to scratch his temple. “It’ll take the better part of the day to get all twenty-five wagons across the river. But it gives folks a chance to get to know each other. The name’s Jed Smith.”
Mattie hesitated to reply. Each encounter with other travelers held the potential for disaster if her ruse was exposed. But living in such close quarters over the next few months looked to make any attempts at completely dodging conversation an impossibility.
Grudgingly, she accepted Jed’s outstretched hand and again introduced herself as Matt Prescott, knowing she would be called on to do tasks so many times over the next several days.
The deception was already wearing on her, and it had only just begun. Would it get any easier in time? Probably not. But she couldn’t let that discourage her.
Jed squinted against the glare of the sun as he surveyed Mattie and Adela. “Seeing as how you joined the wagon train only yesterday, I’d guess you haven’t had occasion to meet many of our fellow travelers yet.”
“No, we haven’t,” Adela replied. “Are all these people making the journey?”
“Yep.” Jed hooked his thumbs under his suspenders and shifted his stance, indicating he planned to stay and chat for a while. “All told, our group’s about two dozen families. Mostly farmers, like myself and the Bakers with their brood of six, and Thomas Malone, a widower with a pair apiece of teenage offspring—two boys, and two gals about your age, missy.”
“By any chance, would that be the two tall, blonde girls standing by the covered wagon near the head of the line?” Adela questioned.
Jed glanced in that direction and nodded. “That’s them.”
Mattie reached for Adela’s arm and gave it a slight squeeze as a subtle signal to shush her.
The younger girl simply shook off her hold, however. “And who is that man on horseback, wearing a brocade waistcoat and starched cravat? He certainly isn’t a farmer.”
“That’s Phillip Hardwick, a fancy British lord. He’s brought along a pair of servants. We also have a doctor and a preacher traveling with us. Then there’s our trail guide, a mountain man and trapper.” Jed fell quiet, his expression expectant.
Clearly, he was hoping the Prescotts would volunteer information about their own background.
And Adela obliged him, despite Mattie’s none-too-subtle elbow to her ribs. “We’re from Saint Louis originally. Now, we’re traveling to join relatives. Our uncle owns a hotel in Oregon City. The Prescott. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?”
Jed shook his head. “I can’t say that I have.”
Mattie cleared her throat and spoke before Adela had a chance. “It was nice meeting you, Mr. Smith—”
“Jed,” he inserted.
“Jed. We won’t keep you any longer.”
He tugged his hat brim down lower on his forehead. “Well, I’ll just mosey along and say howdy to some other folks.”
Once he was out of earshot, Mattie turned toward her sister. “You shouldn’t encourage conversation. We must be especially careful that no one discovers the truth.”
Adela pursed her lips. “We’ll draw more attention to ourselves if we refuse to speak to anybody. That will make it seem as if we have something to hide.”
“We do have something to hide.”
“Yes, but we don’t want the others to suspect that.”
Mattie had to concede her sister made a valid point.
Adela waved to a passing woman, who offered them an affable smile. “Besides, chatting helps pass the time.”
“Fine. But please, watch what you say.”
Adela held up one hand as if making a pledge. “I promise not to let words come tumbling out of my mouth with no prompting from my brain. Will that satisfy you?”
“Thank you.”
It quickly became apparent that Jed wasn’t the only person who viewed the delay as an impromptu social gathering. Several others approached her and Adela, including a couple who turned out to be Josiah’s brother and sister-in-law.
Elias Dawson looked to be half a dozen years older than Josiah, but the family resemblance between the two was strong. Blessed with similar good looks, both men were tall and well built. But Mattie estimated Josiah stood an inch or two taller, and his frame carried a bit more muscle than the older man. It was difficult to judge for certain, however, without the pair positioned side by side.
Although a redhead like his brother, Elias’s hair was a darker chestnut than Josiah’s light red-gold hue. The most notable difference between the siblings was that the elder didn’t share the same intense blue eye color that had so struck Mattie the day before. Instead, the older man’s eyes were an ordinary shade of brown.
Rebecca, Elias’s wife, was a petite blonde in her early twenties. She seemed a pleasant woman, with her friendly manner and twin dimples bracketing her charming smile.
Mattie extended the bare minimum of courtesies. Adela, in contrast, chattered on merrily. “You’ll have to excuse Matt. He’s a bit tongue-tied around strangers,” she offered at one point.
Mattie’s stomach was in knots as she agonized over all the things Adela might let slip. But the younger girl skirted around any dangerous topics and steered the conversation toward inconsequential chitchat.
Still, Mattie breathed a sigh of relief when Josiah’s relatives eventually departed.
Time crept by, the minutes turning into hours as they waited their turn to ferry across the river. Mattie’s tension coiled tighter and tighter until she was almost sick with it. If only they were already out on the trail she would feel slightly more at ease. Sitting here, however, she was all too aware that it would be a simple matter for Miles Carpenter to order her and Adela back to Independence. The town was still much too close for her peace of mind.
And it didn’t help that the line of covered wagons inched ahead at a snail’s pace. Every so often she prodded the team into motion and the wagon rolled forward, only to come to a standstill again after a few short feet. This pattern was repeated again and again as morning gave way to afternoon. Until, finally, there was a single covered wagon left in front of them.
“You’re beautiful,” a child’s voice piped up, snagging Mattie’s attention.
She shifted her gaze and spotted a little girl of about five standing beside their wagon, staring at Adela in rapt awe. “Are you a princess?”
Adela laughed in delight. “No. But thank you for the lovely compliment.”
“Sarah Jane Baker, come away from there!” A woman with the same light brown hair and hazel eyes as the little girl rushed over and caught the child’s arm in a firm grasp. “Don’t bother the fine lady.”
“But, Mama,” Sarah Jane protested, tugging against her mother’s hold.
Adela offered mother and daughter a wide smile. “She’s not a bother.”
Mrs. Baker seemed momentarily stunned by Adela’s dazzling expression, but quickly recovered her wits and hastened her child away.
A piercing whistle rent the air, drawing Mattie’s attention to the man waving her forward. It was their turn to board the wooden ferry, at last.
Wed on the Wagon Train Page 2
