Wed on the Wagon Train

by Tracy Blalock

  Arriving at her covered wagon, Mattie spotted Adela struggling to weave a little girl’s brown hair into braids while the wind did its best to whip the strains out of her hands. The child’s presence no longer came as a surprise—it had taken mere days for little Sarah Jane to become Adela’s shadow.

  And Edith Baker’s youngest wasn’t the only child who was often underfoot. The smaller children seemed irresistibly drawn to Adela, who had stood by her promise to keep them entertained and occupied. Often with the aid of another girl about her age, Charlotte Malone.

  The mothers appreciated the help riding herd on their little ones, while Adela in turn benefited from the support of other females. Since Mattie wasn’t in a position to fill that role herself, she could only be grateful for the women’s acceptance of her sister.

  Despite the fear that it might put her secret at risk.

  She simply had to trust that Adela was ever mindful of the danger and guarded her tongue around the others. Just as Mattie did with Josiah and the other men.

  “Supper’s going to be full of grit,” Mattie commented, noting the uncovered pot suspended above the cooking fire. The cast-iron lid clinked into place as she remedied the situation.

  “Sorry.” Adela grimaced and brushed aside loose tendrils of hair the wind blew across her eyes. “I forgot to replace the cover after I stirred the food. But at least I didn’t let it burn this time.”

  Mattie made a noncommittal sound in response.

  Despite Rebecca Dawson’s instructions, Adela’s cooking ability hadn’t improved much over the past fortnight. More often than not, Mattie returned to camp after completing her own chores only to find the food burned or otherwise unappetizing. But at least Adela’s complaints had decreased. With all the challenges they faced, Mattie supposed that small victory was enough for now.

  * * *

  After supper that evening, Josiah and Elias worked together to stake their covered wagon to the ground, to prevent it tipping over in the high winds that hadn’t abated as the sunlight waned.

  The task complete, Josiah glanced around the wagon circle to see that most other families had done the same. Or were making a start on it, at least. Including Matt Prescott.

  The past couple weeks had proved that the kid was adept at learning what to do by observing those who were more experienced. He had conquered many an obstacle in that way.

  But this job looked to be getting the better of him. Though he clearly understood what needed to be done, he struggled with the heavy iron chains. And his slight frame didn’t have the sheer weight required to swing the unwieldy mallet with enough force to drive the stakes deep into the hard-packed earth.

  Josiah started forward, and as he neared the Prescotts’ wagon, he caught Matt muttering, “This would be a lot easier if I had a third hand.”

  Squatting down next to the kid, Josiah held out his palms. “How about one of these?”

  Matt gasped and narrowly missed smashing his thumb with the mallet.

  Josiah curled his hands into fists and let them drop. “Sorry, kid. I didn’t mean to startle you. But you’re right—this will be quicker work with an extra set of hands. Why don’t you thread the chain between the spokes and over the iron rim of the wheels, while I pound in the stakes?”

  The boy hesitated a moment before nodding. “Thank you.”

  Accepting the proffered mallet, Josiah shifted back slightly to give Matt space to maneuver. Links of chain clinked together as he positioned the heavy iron. Then Josiah swung the mallet, filling the air with a series of dull thuds.

  The temperature had dropped in the last hour, and his hands felt numbed from the cold even inside a pair of leather gloves. He flexed his fingers as he followed behind Matt, who had already moved on to the next wheel.

  Gusts of wind buffeted the covered wagon while they worked to secure it. Josiah prayed it didn’t tip over in the meantime and crush either of them. And he sent fervent thanks heavenward when the job was done.

  Soon afterward, he left the Prescotts and headed in the direction of his horses. He was greeted by a chestnut mare prancing along the edge of the enclosure.

  Patting her neck, Josiah glanced back over his shoulder toward Matt. “What do you make of him, Flame? He’s a puzzle, sure enough. Still, I can’t help but like the kid.”

  The mare bobbed her head up and down as if indicating approval.

  Josiah didn’t consider it the least bit outlandish that he was consulting a horse for a second opinion. He’d found they were excellent judges of character, better than most people at sensing when an individual possessed a cruel streak. Or perhaps it was simply that men didn’t feel any need to hide their true selves from animals.

  The horses had never displayed any hints of fear or aversion toward Matt Prescott. In fact, they always moved forward, eager for his attention, whenever he approached.

  “I reckon he’s a good kid at heart, Flame.” With a final pat to the mare’s glossy coat, he checked on the other horses before rejoining Elias and Rebecca by their campfire.

  His sister-in-law greeted him with a smile. “It was kind of you to go over and help Matt.” Her mouth turned down slightly. “The poor boy’s in over his head, with no male family members to support him.”

  “A bit, perhaps,” Josiah acknowledged as he took a seat and stretched his legs out in front of him. “But sooner or later every young man has to step out into the world on his own for the first time. I was no different, years ago. Only in my case, I had an older brother who rode to my rescue.” Though admittedly, the time between his mother’s death and Elias’s arrival had been tough.

  At thirteen, Josiah had already been working odd jobs for years to help his mother as much as he could. But the money he made wasn’t near enough to cover room and board for himself once she was gone. And the townspeople who had looked down on Louisa Dawson hadn’t stirred themselves to offer charity to her orphaned son.

  He didn’t want to think about what his life would be now, if his half brother hadn’t shown up. When he’d been at his lowest point, the Lord had sent Elias to him. To lift Josiah up.

  Now that he was in a place where he could, he felt called to help others less fortunate. It was his small way of showing thanks for the blessing he’d been given when his brother had appeared in his life just as Josiah needed him most.

  “And now you’re doing the same for another boy.” Rebecca reached over and placed her fingers on Josiah’s arm, her expression beaming with approval. “You’re a good man.”

  He drew his legs up and folded his hands together between his bent knees. “I try to be.”

  Elias clasped Josiah’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “That’s all any of us can do.”

  Half an hour later, Josiah covered a yawn with his hand. “It’s been a long day, so I’m going to call it a night. I’ll see you both in the morning.” He left the pair sitting by their campfire and headed back toward the horse enclosure.

  Since he wasn’t scheduled for guard duty, he opted to bed down near his horses, fearing the turbulent weather might unsettle them.

  Somewhere around midnight, rain began to fall. It made for an uncomfortable night out in the open. But the oilskin cloth on the outside of Josiah’s bedroll kept the worst of the dampness from soaking into his clothes. At least until he got up to check on his horses.

  The storm suddenly seemed to gain intensity, as the rain blew sideways, pelting him with fat drops. He regretted his lack of forethought, that he hadn’t retrieved his rain slicker from the covered wagon earlier.

  But he was nowhere near as wet and miserable as the horses standing huddled together. Rainwater sluiced off their coats, and the wind blew their sodden tails out behind them like streamers. The drenching wasn’t likely to cause any lasting harm to such hardy stock, but they looked pitiful all the same.

&n
bsp; Near dawn, the deluge let up at last—leaving behind a soggy quagmire even hours later. While the group enjoyed a welcome respite from the dust, the mud added a new hindrance. Over the course of the morning, several wagons became mired along the trail. It slowed their progress, and tempers were short.

  Especially when Hardwick’s overloaded wagon got stuck tight, and he simply stood back, expecting others to assist his servants in doing the physical labor required to free it.

  Josiah, along with Matt and half a dozen other men, put a shoulder against the tailgate, while the oxen strained at the front. But whereas lighter wagons had been freed with relative ease, it was no use this time. The wheels had sunk deep and refused to budge.

  “This isn’t working,” the man to Josiah’s right grunted in frustration. In his early forties, Thomas Malone was tall and thin with pale blond hair—traits he’d passed down to all four of his children.

  “Stop pushing for a minute,” Miles instructed. “We need to come up with a different plan.”

  Glad for the opportunity to take a breather, Josiah relaxed his muscles and propped an arm against the wagon box.

  Jed Smith rubbed his jaw as he studied the covered wagon, then turned toward the wagon master. “If we unload some of the heavier items, then we might be able to push it forward.”

  Several heads nodded in accord.

  But Hardwick took exception. “You dare to suggest that priceless antiques be placed in the muck?” Pinching a tiny dot of mud from his trousers, he cleaned his fingertips on a monogrammed handkerchief. “I will not hear of it!”

  His words were greeted by angry retorts from many of the others, all of whom were mud-splattered from head to toe.

  A piercing whistle cut through the ruckus, halting the grumbles of discontent. “Does anyone have any other ideas?” Miles inserted into the silence.

  Matt used the back of his hand to wipe a trickle of sweat from his temple, leaving a streak of grime behind on his skin.

  Josiah didn’t expect the boy to say anything, since he’d noticed that Matt seemed shy to open his mouth around the others.

  It caught him by surprise when the kid piped up with a suggestion. “What if we added more oxen to the front?”

  * * *

  “You mean unhitch a team or two from another wagon and hook ’em up to this one?” Thomas Malone checked.

  Mattie prayed she hadn’t made a mistake by speaking up, but it was too late for second thoughts now. With everyone’s attention focused squarely on her, she had to brazen it out. “Sure. Why not?”

  “That’s not a bad idea, actually,” the wagon master mused, his fingers stroking his gray beard. “With more pulling power, that just might work. It’s certainly worth a try.”

  Josiah stepped forward to volunteer. “I’ll handle the oxen, get them in position.”

  “Much appreciated,” Miles Carpenter replied. “Jed, why don’t you go along with him?”

  “Sure thing.”

  “And the rest of you men, get ready to push once the oxen are in place,” the wagon master finished.

  “We’re all set up here,” Jed called a few minutes later.

  “Josiah!” the wagon master raised his voice to be heard. “You stay at the head of the oxen and get them moving.” He turned to the group standing at the back of the covered wagon. “And everyone else—on the count of three, we push. One. Two. Three.”

  Mattie added her efforts to the others struggling to push the wagon from behind. Her muscles strained to equal her determination.

  “Put your backs into it, men!” Lord Hardwick ordered from his vantage point well away from the worst of the mud.

  Mattie would’ve shot a glare at him over her shoulder if she could have spared the energy. But all her concentration had to stay focused on the task at hand.

  When the wagon remained stuck for several seconds, she worried that this wasn’t going to work, after all. But just as she’d concluded they would have to give up, the mud released its grip with a sucking sound, enabling the wheels to roll forward.

  A cheer went up among the men on either side of her.

  “Good thinking, kid.” Elias Dawson clapped her on the back.

  The action sent her stumbling forward a step and knocked her hat over her eyes.

  Straightening, she repositioned the headwear. “Thank you.”

  Despite the dull throbbing above her shoulder blade, she was warmed by his praise. It felt as if she’d made a worthwhile contribution, for a change. Done something that benefited the entire group.

  Finally, she was pulling her own weight and proving an asset, not a hindrance to anybody.

  And that lessened her guilt slightly over the deception she was perpetrating against these good people.

  But only slightly.

  Chapter Five

  “Elias and I are going hunting. Why don’t you come along?” Josiah invited Mattie a few days later.

  Hunting? Her heart raced in panic.

  Though she felt more comfortable holding her father’s rifle now—at least enough so she no longer feared accidentally shooting herself—there was a world of difference between carrying a gun around and actually firing it. She had little faith in beginner’s luck, and the likelihood of her hitting a specific target was practically nil.

  But she didn’t want to admit that aloud. “I should stay here, near Adela.”

  “There’s no need. Rebecca will keep an eye on her while the women wash clothes. And Miles already has enough volunteers working on the repairs to Hardwick’s wagon.” Undoubtedly overtaxed while battling the mud three days ago, a broken axle had forced their group to stop early.

  And though sunset was still several hours away, the camp was already set up. She couldn’t think of any other excuse. Still, she hesitated.

  “Are you game?” Josiah prompted. “I don’t know about you, but I’d sure like to add some fresh meat to our stores.”

  He made a valid point. She and Adela could certainly use an additional food source. Cooking mishaps had dwindled their supplies faster than anticipated. And while Mattie lacked any hunting skills, she was sure the Dawson brothers did not. If she went along with them and they were successful, would they share with her?

  Even if they didn’t, she could gain some valuable knowledge that might prove useful later. “Let me get my rifle.”

  On the way to her wagon, Mattie glanced toward the river to check on her sister and spotted Adela near the water’s edge. She was attired more practically in a simple calico dress at last, after several of her fancy gowns had been ruined by fire, mud and the rigors of day-to-day trail conditions.

  Numerous small children scampered around Adela, and she kept them occupied while the older women focused on scrubbing mud-stained clothing. The smile on Adela’s face matched those of her young charges, and their laughter rang out in joyous peals.

  As Mattie watched, two-year-old Lizzie Linton, the preacher’s daughter, took a tumble, which had been aided by a shove from her five-year-old brother, Henry. She started to cry, and Adela was there in a flash, scooping up Lizzie and inspecting her for injury, then soothing her tears. Though her sister’s words were indistinguishable to Mattie from this distance, her tone was easily recognizable. When she admonished the boy for his naughty behavior, she was patient and kind.

  Turning away from the scene, Mattie ducked inside her wagon to retrieve her father’s rifle, then returned to where Josiah waited with Elias.

  The three set off, and she paid close attention to everything the brothers did, then tried to mimic them. They kept their eyes on the ground, and she guessed they were looking for tracks or other indications of animals. One patch of dirt looked much the same as another to her, however.

  After several minutes of walking, Josiah stopped and squatted down to
take a closer look at...something.

  Elias glanced over his brother’s shoulder. “Looks like antelope tracks.”

  Josiah nodded. “But no telling how old they are. The last rain might have been days ago. Or longer, if the storm that drenched us missed this area.”

  Elias’s eyes swept over the surrounding vicinity. “I don’t see anything from here, but there’s a depression out toward the east that’s probably big enough to hide a large animal. We’ll follow the tracks for a ways and see if they head in that direction.”

  Josiah straightened and led the way along a deliberate but winding path.

  Taking her gaze off the ground, Mattie looked out across the landscape, trying to spot any animals. The wind sighed through the tall grasses, setting them rustling, a wheat-colored sea of motion that could easily conceal an animal of similar coloring.

  Although the prairie appeared flat, Mattie had learned over the past few weeks that it actually rose in slight hills then descended into lower spots in seemingly endless succession.

  She looked behind her, in the direction they’d come from, and noted they had traveled a good distance. From here, the wagon circle looked small and insignificant on the vastness of the plains.

  As she took a step, the toe of her boot caught and she stumbled.

  Josiah glanced back at her. “What happened?”

  “I wasn’t watching where I was walking,” she admitted. “And I stepped in a hole.”

  “You need to keep your eyes on the ground.”

  She nodded in understanding. “I don’t want to twist an ankle.”

  “Or step on a rattlesnake,” Elias added.

  “Rattlesnakes?” She froze in place.

  “Yeah. They’ll usually let you know when you’re getting too close, but you don’t want to sneak up on one and surprise it.”

  “No, I definitely don’t want to do that.” Before taking another step, she scanned the nearby clumps of grass for any slithering serpents intent on ambush.

  Josiah stretched out his arm to bar her way. “Stay still.”