Wed on the Wagon Train

by Tracy Blalock

  Compassion shone in her amber eyes. “How awful for you. I can’t imagine what it would have been like to grow up without Adela. You must have missed Elias terribly.”

  “It wasn’t as bad for me as it was for my mother. I had no memories of him. But my mother pined for her eldest son for the rest of her life. She sent countless letters to him, and never received any reply. She died believing that was the way Elias wanted it. She didn’t know that Samuel Dawson had made sure their son never saw her correspondences.”

  “How were you eventually reunited?”

  “When she knew the end was near, Mother wrote to her former husband, begging him to take me in after she was gone. He refused, but Elias discovered the letter, and he came. He arrived days too late to say a final farewell to our mother.

  “Before he explained everything to me, I believed he was every bit as uncaring as the man who’d sired him, and I was hostile and belligerent toward him. But Elias didn’t give up on me, and I’m not going to give up on him now. I’ll find a way to reach him.” Somehow.

  Tears filled her eyes. Were they brought on by thoughts of the events in his past or by the current situation? Most likely it was a combination of both. Though Mattie tried to act tough, he’d seen glimpses of the softness buried beneath her prickly exterior.

  When a single teardrop slipped down her cheek, he reached out and brushed it away. He was standing close enough to her that he could see a previously unnoticed scar marring the skin slightly below her cheekbone.

  He rubbed his thumb across it. “What happened here?”

  At first he didn’t think she would answer, but he saw in her eyes the moment she changed her mind. Maybe his own sharing of confidences had allowed her to open up to him in return.

  “My fiancé took exception when I called off our wedding. He slapped me and the heavy ruby ring he wore on his finger left its mark. It was the first time he raised a hand to me. And the last.”

  Josiah wanted to hunt down the man who had done this to her, but the cad was more than a thousand miles away. At least that put him far enough from Mattie that he would never hurt her again. “You made a timely escape.”

  “I know. And though that wasn’t the reason I ended our engagement, it served as proof I had made the right decision. But my family suffered for my choice.” Lowering her gaze to the ground, she bit the corner of her lip.

  “In what way?” He dipped his head down in an attempt to regain eye contact, but her lashes acted as a screen, hiding her thoughts from his view.

  “My ex-fiancé was the son of my father’s boss, and Papa lost his job as vice president of the Worthington Steamboat Company as a result of my actions.”

  She fell silent, but he reckoned there had to be more to the story than that. Taking her hand in his, he entwined their fingers and waited for her to continue.

  The direction of her stare shifted to focus on their joined hands as she pressed on. “Mr. Worthington Senior used his influence to ensure that Papa couldn’t find decent work. Then some bad investments wiped out our savings.” Once more, she worried her bottom lip. “Crippled by unpaid debts from the canceled wedding, in addition to our everyday expenditures, we were forced to sell our family home.”

  Barely stopping for breath, she rushed to finish the telling. “That’s what led us to Independence, Missouri, and the promise of a new life in Oregon Country. But if not for me, and my decisions, Papa wouldn’t have lost his job. There would have been no reason to leave Saint Louis.” Guilt was thick in her voice.

  With a gentle hand under her chin, he brought her focus back up to his face. “You shouldn’t blame yourself, Mattie. You did the only thing you could.”

  “Not according to the society matrons.” Shadows darkened her eyes, hinting that the memories troubled her still. “The heir to the Worthington fortune was considered an excellent catch. Even when I revealed what I had learned of his lecherous and debauched behavior, it was deemed of no consequence. And certainly not just cause to break off the engagement. His own mother told me that men will be men. Then she took pains to instruct me on what society expected of a proper wife, and how I should turn a blind eye.” Indignation filling her tone, her glance beseeched him for the understanding she hadn’t received back then. “But I couldn’t do that.”

  “Of course not.” And shame on the arrogant woman who had tried to convince her otherwise, as well as anyone else who had looked down their nose at Mattie. “I’m sorry you were made to feel as though you were the one in the wrong. Or in any way responsible for what followed afterward.” Leaning down, he kissed her cheek, directly over the small scar, then drew back and looked into her eyes.

  He hated seeing the traces of regret in their depths. When her bottom lip trembled slightly, he lowered his head and caught her mouth under his.

  Then immediately wondered what had gotten into him.

  He ended the kiss and retreated, releasing her hand.

  She stared up at him, her gaze liquid pools of shimmering gold filled with questions that he didn’t want to answer in his own mind, let alone out loud.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I need to finish up here.”

  Though the questions lingered in her eyes, she didn’t voice any of them. “I should be getting back to Adela and the baby anyway.”

  Josiah turned toward the horses and didn’t watch Mattie’s departure.

  He never should have kissed her. But he quickly excused his impulsive action as an offering of comfort only, not anything more significant.

  His emotions hadn’t been engaged. It wasn’t possible when his heart was walled off.

  And if he’d felt something in that kiss, he refused to admit it.

  Or examine what it might be.

  * * *

  Walking back to the covered wagons, Mattie put a hand to her mouth, where the imprint of Josiah’s lips seemed to linger. Why had he kissed her? What did it mean? Was it evidence that he was developing tender feelings for her, as Rebecca had claimed? Perhaps he did have some affection for Mattie beyond his innate need to protect those who were at a disadvantage.

  Was she throwing away an opportunity for something wonderful due to fear? Because the truth was that she remained afraid to risk her heart. And she no longer had her friend to give her encouragement. At the reminder, her eyes filled with tears, and she blinked several times to stem them.

  When Josiah arrived at the campfire for supper a short time later, she tried to ascertain the answers from his expression. But his face was curiously blank.

  Once everyone had a plate of food, Josiah asked a blessing and then they began to eat. Several minutes passed in silence, with the scraping of forks against enamel and the crackle and pop of flames the only sounds heard around their campfire.

  Conversations and laughter drifted to them from the nearby families, but it was as if the Dawsons and Prescotts had been struck mute. Not even the baby cried from her place inside the small open-top crate that had been repurposed as a bassinet.

  Searching her mind for something to say, Mattie said the first thing that came to her. “Have you decided on a name for your daughter, Elias?”

  He put his half-full plate aside and stood up. “I’m going for a walk.”

  Stunned speechless by his sudden action, Mattie’s mouth worked, but she didn’t find her voice until he had disappeared from sight on the far side of the covered wagon.

  She turned to Josiah, feeling immeasurable guilt. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to drive him away. I didn’t realize that a simple mention of the baby would have such on effect on him.”

  Josiah reached over and caught her hand, entwining his fingers with hers as he had done earlier. The show of support brought her emotions back to a more even keel. Without him speaking a word, she knew that he didn’t hold the thoughtless inquiry against her.

 
A few days later, the baby still didn’t have a name. And that fact bothered Mattie. Josiah had taken to calling her Sweet Pea, but the child needed a Christian name.

  And Mattie said as much to him.

  He didn’t look up from the chunk of wood he was carving. “What do you suggest?”

  “Can’t you talk to your brother about it?” She tried to keep exasperation out of her tone, but feared she hadn’t been entirely successful.

  “I doubt it would do any good.” Turning the piece of wood over, he squinted his eyes and examined it from a different angle. “If you’re so set on her having a name, you’d be better off picking one yourself.”

  “I couldn’t do that!” It wasn’t her right and seemed highly insensitive besides.

  Lowering his hands to his lap, Josiah held the knife motionless as he focused his full attention on her. “It’s either that, or she will henceforth be known as Sweet Pea.”

  Mattie refused to accept the latter, and her conscience rebelled against the former. “Under different circumstances I might suggest calling the baby after her mother, but I fear that would push Elias even further away from the little one. If only Rebecca had mentioned a girl’s name she preferred. But she was certain she was carrying a boy and had settled on Elias Junior.”

  “I guess you could call her Eliasa.”

  She huffed out a sigh. “Elias can’t even speak of her—do you really think he would want her named after him?”

  “You’re probably right, at that.” He lifted his arms and resumed carving.

  Her gaze shifted to his hands. “I thought Elias was the whittler. I’ve never seen you doing it before.”

  “He taught me. But I’m usually too busy.”

  Lately, however, he’d been spending more time around the campfire. Staying close to his brother in order to pick up any slack, instead of working with his horses.

  Though she might not agree wholly with Josiah’s decision to stand aside and allow his brother wallow in his grief, she took heart from the knowledge that he had an unshakable personal code by which he lived. He wasn’t simply taking an easy out by avoiding a confrontation with his brother. He was doing what he believed best. Rather than pressuring the other man, Josiah was helping in the only way he felt he could, giving Elias space free from everyday worries.

  But Mattie’s very nature chaffed against the soft approach. She’d never been one to sit idly back and let life happen as it may. She much preferred racing to meet it. But her propensity to take action without a thought for the consequences wasn’t always the wisest course, as she’d come to realize.

  Impatience still gnawed at her. Instead of yielding to it this time, however, she resolved to restrain her impulse.

  Returning her focus to Josiah, she watched him for a few minutes and noted the growing pile of wood shavings at his feet. “What are you making?”

  “I don’t rightly know yet. I have to get a feel for the wood first, before it will tell me what it should be.” He glanced in her direction. “What about choosing a family name?”

  It took her a few seconds to realize he had circled back to their original topic of Elias’s as-yet-nameless daughter.

  “That could work.” But after what Josiah had recently revealed of his past, she didn’t want to use any names from the Dawson family—there was too much bad blood. “Maybe one from Rebecca’s side. Do you know any of her relatives?”

  He shifted and stretched out his legs in front of him. “I’ve only met a few, and only two who are female. Her younger sister, Abigail, and her mother, Emmaline. I’m partial to the name Emmaline myself.”

  “That’s a rather large name for such a tiny girl.” Folding her hands in her lap, she glanced toward the crate bassinet. “How about Emma?”

  “Emma?” He considered the infant for a moment, as if trying the name on for size. “I like it.”

  Mattie’s eyebrows pulled together in a frown. “But will Elias?”

  “If he doesn’t, he can say so.”

  * * *

  The next morning Mattie found out what Josiah had been carving. He’d stayed up late by the fire, working on it long after she had turned in for the night, and now it was finished.

  Her mouth dropped open in wonder. In his hand, he held a bundle of leaves tied with twine, and at the center was a tiny wooden horse.

  Her eyes flew to his, delight welling inside her as she reached to take it from him. How long had it been since anyone had given her a present? Much less one crafted by hand with such care. “You made this for me?”

  He nodded. “I wanted to show my appreciation for everything you’ve done for my brother and my niece.”

  “Technically, she’s my niece, too,” she pointed out.

  He ignored her remark, however. “I left the wood raw because the light golden color is similar to a palomino’s coat.”

  Returning her gaze to his gift, she stroked the smooth surface of the carving and marveled at the minute details. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Clearing his throat, he shifted from one foot to the other. “I need to, uh, see to the horses. The uh, full-size, uh...alive ones, that is.” He pivoted and hurried away without waiting for a reply.

  Her praise had clearly made him uncomfortable. But why? If the miniature was truly only a gesture of appreciation, as he’d claimed, surely he would have accepted her compliments with aplomb.

  After placing the wooden horse and its nest of foliage on the tailgate of the covered wagon, she returned to cleaning up the remnants of the morning meal. But her gaze was drawn back to the tiny horse again and again as she wondered over Josiah’s real reasons for giving it to her.

  She knew how Rebecca would have viewed his actions. But Mattie was still hesitant to believe it.

  Once she completed her chore, she climbed into the covered wagon to stow the gift before the wagon train moved out.

  Adela was occupied dressing the baby, but glanced up at Mattie’s entrance. “What’s that?”

  She handed the miniature to her sister. “Josiah made it.”

  “It’s darling, and so tiny. You’d better keep it away from Emma.” She passed it back to Mattie. “We wouldn’t want her to choke on it.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m going to put it away for safekeeping.” Kneeling in front of her trunk, she lifted the lid and removed a cotton handkerchief to wrap around the carving.

  After the ball of material was tucked back inside, she picked up the cluster of leaves to lay it atop her clothes. But she paused with it still clenched in her fingers, studying the veining in the leaves.

  “Remember how Mama used to tell us that we could see God’s work in the patterns of each leaf and petal in her garden? His greatness in a single blade of grass amidst the millions comprising the manicured lawn.”

  “And His glory when she looked into our eyes,” Adela finished the familiar refrain.

  One of the hardest things to leave behind in Saint Louis had been the rose garden that had been their mother’s pride and joy while she was alive.

  Setting the leaves on her lap, Mattie reached for her Bible. Though they weren’t a bouquet of wildflowers—it was too late in the year for those—she wanted to press the bundle between the pages of scripture.

  She flipped to a spot near the beginning and laid the leaves inside. But before she could close the cover again, a verse caught her eyes.

  Then the Lord God said, ‘It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a helper fit for him.’

  Had God guided her hand to that particular passage?

  She traced the tip of the leaf that was acting as an arrow pointing toward the Lord’s words. It felt as though her mother was seconding the advice Rebecca had given in days past. Encouraging her to take a chance.

  And wh
at better way for Mattie to honor her friend’s memory than by giving her marriage to Josiah fair consideration.

  If she opened her heart to the possibilities, would her courage be rewarded? Would love blossom between her and Josiah?

  She didn’t know what the future held, but one thing was certain. She would never find the deep and lasting affection she craved if she kept herself closed off and refused to allow her feelings to grow.

  * * *

  Josiah stood watching his horses. Though he needed to get them ready for travel, he risked another injury if he attempted to do so while he was distracted.

  And he was undeniably distracted now, his thoughts on his last encounter with Mattie. Her reaction to his gift, the light in her eyes as if he’d given her a treasure beyond price, had been much more than the simple wooden carving warranted.

  Then she’d made a subtle reference to their marriage by claiming a familial connection to Emma. Had he given Mattie the wrong idea with his friendly gesture? Because that was all he’d intended it to be.

  But if she had begun to imagine there could be something permanent between them, had convinced herself that he wouldn’t follow through with an annulment once they reached Oregon Country...how could he set her straight without being callously blunt?

  He worried that problem over in his head for the better part of the day. But by the time they made camp in the early evening, he’d hit upon a solution. After supper, he started on a second carving.

  “Do you know what that one is going to be yet?” Mattie questioned, a slight smile turning up the corners of her mouth.

  “Yep. It’s another horse.”

  “Oh? Are you planning to make a whole herd?”

  “No. Just the one I made you, and this one, which I intend to give to Emma.”

  She was clearly surprised by his answer, and the smile vanished from her face. Had she assumed he was carving something else for her and now was deflated at learning otherwise?