The Brides of the Old West: Five Romantic Adventures from the American Frontier

by Peggy Darty, Darlene Franklin, Sally Laity, Nancy Lavo

  Surely You know of this new predicament I face. A proposal—after all the time I’ve spent convincing myself never to trust a man again, much less expect one to look upon me with favor. I don’t think I’ve given Mr. Hill the slightest indication of my desiring to replace his dear dead wife. Nor have his actions toward me, to be truthful. More than likely he’s thinking of his children, trying to do what’s best for them.

  She paused and sighed. But I couldn’t imagine committing myself to another man unless I truly, truly loved him. And the affection I feel for Jared is not of that nature. In fact, I—

  Refusing even to finish the stunning thought trying to come to life within her heart, Amanda steeled herself against it and returned to her petition with renewed urgency. Please give me wisdom to make the right choice. Help me to do Your will, to do what’s best. In Jesus’ name, amen.

  Not exactly at peace, Amanda draped her coat over one of the barrels and slid into the warm quilts and blankets on the pallet.

  But it was not Jared Hill’s face that remained in her thoughts.

  CHAPTER 17

  While they camped at Little Sandy, a vote was taken to bypass Fort Bridger and navigate the shorter route to Bear Valley known as Sublett’s Cutoff. The idea of saving eighty-five miles—even at the price of heading straight out into a grassless desert tableland—seemed of more import than the difficulties they knew would have to be faced. Every available water container was filled to the brim in the clear cool river before leaving, and the men cut a supply of long grass for the animals.

  The thought of seven days’ less travel appealed to Amanda, whatever the hardships. Considering all she and Sarah Jane had endured up to this point, she had no qualms about trusting the Lord to take them through a dry march as well.

  The memory of Seth Holloway’s unexpected kindness last evening had kept her awake long into the night, try as she might to slough it off as mere good-neighbor courtesy. The man was an enigma. Though usually displaying a hard, domineering side of his character, he also possessed a caring, thoughtful side. The latter caused Amanda the most unrest and was hardest to ignore.

  And there was Jared Hill’s proposal to consider. The more she thought about it, the more convinced she became that the needs of the motherless children were uppermost in the widower’s mind. After all, a remote homestead in sparsely settled territory demanded the combined efforts of a man and a woman to provide a nurturing environment for little ones. And she truly loved Bethany and Tad as if they were her own younger brother and sister… yet—

  “Mandy?” Sarah asked, keeping pace with the plodding mules. “Would you like me to drive? You look tired.”

  Amanda shook her head. “I’m fine, really. It was just kind of a short night.” She paused, debating whether or not to seek her younger sister’s advice. But who else was there to ask? “Sissy… what do you think of Mr. Hill?”

  Sarah turned her head so abruptly she stumbled on the uneven terrain. “Why?”

  “He… he’s asked me to marry him.” Amanda watched the color drain from her sister’s face.

  “D—do you love him?” she asked, her words barely audible over the hoof falls and the rattle and creak of the wagon.

  Amanda averted her gaze to the countryside, still amazingly pleasant for all the dire predictions of what lay ahead. “I like and respect him very much. It would be hard to find a more decent man.” Hearing no reply, she glanced at her sibling again.

  Sarah moistened her lips. “Does he… love you?”

  A ragged breath emptied Amanda’s lungs. She tipped her head in thought. “We both love the children. I think that’s what’s most important to him at the moment.”

  “They are dear, aren’t they? Truly dear.” A wistful smile played over Sarah’s lips.

  Amanda thought she detected a mistiness in her sister’s eyes before Sarah quickly cut a glance to the earth. But the tear her sibling brushed away while trying to hide the action was not imagined. “Are you all right, Sissy?”

  Sarah merely nodded. But she did not speak another word for hours.

  Crossing the crucible of sand speckled with prickly creosote and mesquite shrubs, the temperature climbed with the merciless sun. The bone-weary emigrants decided to rest during the day under the meager shade of canvas or wagon and journey at night, to spare the animals. But at least half a dozen beasts perished anyway, dropping right where they stood in the extreme scorching temperatures. People began abandoning wagons and doubling what remained of their teams.

  Days later, the sight of the Green River on the far western side couldn’t have been more welcome. The animals practically stampeded toward the swift, deep water. When everyone’s thirst had been sated, the necessary preparations began for transporting the company across the formidable river. Some people by now routinely unpacked their heavy wagons and floated their stores over the water on rafts, then had to repack everything once the empty wagons reached the other side.

  Amanda, having successfully forded numerous rivers, decided to chance this one as well. She tied down everything and inched the team into the Green after one of the other rigs.

  The mules balked at the force of the flow, but started toward the opposite bank, making slow but steady progress.

  Partway across, a front wheel struck something and buckled. The wagon pitched sharply to the left.

  With Sarah’s scream still ringing in her ears, Amanda plunged headlong into the frigid mountain flow. The roiling water whisked her away, hiding any view of her sister or the wagon.

  Helpless against the force of the current, she made a futile attempt to swim, but the weight of her sodden skirts pulled her under, tangling about her legs, and her shoes felt as heavy as anvils. With the icy river roaring over her head and shoulders, Amanda fought desperately to keep her face above the surface, but each time she gasped for air she swallowed more water. She had to try to make it to shallower water, but no amount of thrashing with her arms could overcome the force of the relentless current. And the cold mercilessly sapped her strength. I’m going to drown! The sick realization clenched her heart. What would become of poor Sarah! Dear God, she prayed desperately, take care of her. Don’t let anything happen to her.

  Suddenly something snagged her around the shoulders. Cut off her air.

  Amanda writhed frantically to get free.

  “Don’t fight me!”

  As the command penetrated her numbed mind, Amanda became aware of a strong arm encircling her. Exhausted, she gave in, aware only of a man’s labored breathing as he attempted to get them both to shore.

  Coughing water from her lungs, Amanda clung to her rescuer. She blinked to clear her vision, then raised her lashes and discovered that the masculine body pressed to hers was the wagon master’s! The two of them were being pulled toward the bank by a rope.

  When Amanda’s feet grazed the sandy bottom, she was scooped up and carried to dry land. Still coughing as Seth Holloway set her down and she loosed her death grip from his neck, she shivered uncontrollably in the wind.

  His partner quickly wrapped the blanket from behind his saddle around her, while Mr. Holloway, enshrouded in his own, mounted his horse. Then she was lifted again into the wagon master’s arms, and he started back toward the crossing site.

  Deep shudders racked Amanda as the horse plodded along. She relived the ordeal as if it were a dream that hadn’t ended yet—and she wondered if she would ever again in her life feel warm enough. Gathering the pitiful remnants of her remaining energy, she tried to speak over her violent shivers as they jounced along. Nothing would come out. “S—Sarah,” she finally managed between chatters of her teeth.

  “The others are probably looking after her.”

  “Y—you s—saved my life. Th—thank you.”

  An angry whoosh deflated his chest. “You almost got us both killed!” he ranted. “You had no business driving that wagon across by yourself. But you’re bound and determined to prove me wrong.” With another furious huff he shook h
is head. “I swear, you’ve been nothing but trouble from the first time I saw you!”

  Utterly crushed by the attack, Amanda felt welling tears, but she had no time to respond. They had arrived at camp.

  “Mandy!” Sarah ran up and yanked her to the ground in a bone-crushing hug. “Thank heaven you’re all right!”

  “Poor thing’s near froze to death,” she heard Mrs. Randolph say as another blanket was thrown about her. “Bring her over by the fire. Give a hustle, now. We have some good strong coffee on to help warm her up.”

  Amanda allowed them to lead her to the blazing campfire. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Seth Holloway headed in the opposite direction. But she was far too spent to give further thought to her reluctant rescuer or his insulting tongue lashing.

  Shielded from view by a wall of blankets and concerned women, Sarah Jane stripped Amanda’s sodden clothing from her stiff, shivering frame. Then layers of dry covers and quilts wrapped her from head to toe, providing the first measure of real warmth she’d felt since being drawn from the frigid river.

  Much sooner than she would have expected, the ministrations of her sister and the kind older woman who’d become such a friend to them began thawing her out. With her stiff fingers wrapped around a hot mug, Amanda drained the last drop of coffee, then asked the question foremost in her mind. “When can I go lie down in the wagon?”

  Sarah paled. “That’s the bad news. But the men were able to salvage most of our things, and Mr. Hill is trying to fashion a cart for us from what’s left of the schooner. When it tipped, he and another man came to help me. They saved the mules, too. Poor things were scared silly, braying their heads off.”

  “But don’t you worry none, darlin’,” Mrs. Randolph said gently. “You and Sarah Jane can sleep under our rig every night. We’ll look after you.”

  Still stunned by the dire fate of the prairie schooner, Amanda drew little comfort from her neighbor’s offer. Her expression must have been transparent, for Sarah Jane swiftly took command of the conversation, saying more all at once than she’d said for days. “Your heroic rescue was the talk of the camp, Mandy,” she announced much too brightly.

  Amanda just stared at her.

  Her sister nodded. “Everyone gasped when that wheel snapped and you were flung into the river. Mr. Holloway had already crossed with the herd and was riding along the bank when you fell in. You should have seen him!” Sarah’s eyes grew large. “He yelled something to that Mr. Hanfield and charged after you. Honestly, if ever a real true knight existed, that man fits the bill. It was almost… romantic.” A smile gave emphasis to her airy sigh.

  But Amanda felt tears gathering inside her soul. All she wanted was to be alone so she could cry her heart out. And she knew it had nothing to do with her harrowing experience.

  Having merged from the cutoff onto the rugged hills of the main trail once more, Amanda truly appreciated the way the much smaller cart handled. It wasn’t exactly as stylish as something back East, but considering the poor shape of the materials used to make it, it rolled over the high ridges and through the pine forests as well—if not better—than many of the heavy wagons. Best of all, hitched to only four mules rather than six, it gave the animals an easier lot, too. Amanda could rotate them. And Jared Hill had thoughtfully made a canvas cover, which provided at least some shelter, in a pinch.

  She had not seen Mr. Holloway since the incident at the Green River. Nor did she intend to see or speak to him for the remainder of the journey. Sarah, too, she noticed, had reverted to that oddly quiet way she’d acquired of late. She rarely spent, time with Alvin or his friends, and even her moments with Bethany and Tad seemed weighted by her countenance.

  Jared Hill had insisted the girls drive in front of him so he could keep an eye on their tentative conveyance, so the children normally walked beside either her or Sarah Jane, whichever one of them was afoot. Their endless chatter kept Amanda’s mind occupied—another of life’s blessings—while yet another ten, twenty, fifty miles ticked by. Would this tedious journey never end! Points of interest they passed along the way no longer held the slightest appeal, not even the amazing springs where the water tasted like soda.

  Lost in moody depression, one afternoon, Amanda thought she imagined a cry in the distance. She peered ahead at a tiny cloud of dust that appeared to be coming toward them.

  The shout came again.

  “Gold!”

  And again. “Gold!”

  Much clearer now. Folks up front hollered it back to the rest and halted their teams.

  Upon reaching the company, the galloping rider skidded his mount to a stop. “There’s gold in California!” he yelled for all to hear, panting between breaths. “At Sutter’s Mill, on the American River. Enough for all! I’m ridin’ east to fetch my brothers.” With that, he spurred his lathered horse and sped on.

  A moment of silent shock swiftly evolved into an excited murmur, then erupted to hoots and howls.

  “Well, I, for one, am headin’ to Californy,” one man bellowed. “Soon as we pass the fort!” Waving his hat, he kicked up his heels and jumped aboard his outfit, clucking his team to motion.

  “Me, too,” another hollered.

  A virtual shouting match broke out down the line, between folks bound and determined to grab this chance to get rich, and others who declared they were continuing to Oregon despite what could turn out to be a rumor started by some practical joker.

  Just listening to the melee, Amanda and Sarah exchanged questioning frowns.

  Then Mr. Holloway cantered by, one hand raised, on his way to the front of the line. “Let’s not get all het up, folks,” he said a number of times. “Stay calm. Whether there’s gold or not, there’s plenty of time for you and your animals to rest up at the fort while you think the matter through. Then if you decide to turn off on the California Trail when we come to it, at least you’ll have a better chance of getting there in one piece.”

  But there was no slowing down some of the determined travelers. Breaking off from the rest of the train, those wagons pulled ahead, anxious to set out on fortune’s path.

  A much smaller group made camp that night.

  Amanda felt exposed as she and Sarah were forced to sleep out in the open. Listening to plaintiff yips and howls of coyotes and wolves, the rustlings in the sagebrush that could be any number of wild things, she rolled up in her blanket like a mummy and lay awake waiting for utter exhaustion to claim her.

  All she wanted was to get somewhere. Anywhere. Never to go another mile again. Someplace where she never had to set eyes on Seth Holloway as long as she lived. As they had for the past several nights, burning tears slid out from behind her closed eyes and into her hair.

  CHAPTER 18

  From a distance of five miles the whitewashed fur-trading post of Fort Hall was visible, occupying half an acre of sagebrush plain alongside the shining Snake River. The breeze played over the red flag on the pole, ruffling the initials of the Hudson’s Bay Company. But this time upon approaching a fort, the mood of the company was a peculiar mixture of excitement and subdued resignation.

  Amanda gave no more than a cursory glance to the five-foot wall surrounding the two-story bastion or the hewn-log buildings inside. Word had it there was no meat, flour, or rice to be had. Only a small supply of coffee and sugar—and that at fifty cents a pint. Nevertheless, two days of rest would be appreciated. “Look, Pa!” she heard Tad shout. “A cannon! A real cannon!”

  But before the lad could skip off to the piece of artillery parked in the courtyard, his father reined him in. “Slow down, son. That’s nothing to fool with.”

  The boy groaned in disappointment.

  Jared tousled the towhead’s hair on his approach to Amanda and Sarah. “If you two would look after the young’uns, I’d like to go hunting with the other men. See if I can replenish our stores.”

  Amanda nodded. “Go on. I’ll see to your oxen.”

  With a grateful smile at her and Sarah, he retriev
ed his rifle and walked toward the loose horses among the animals that had trailed the company. Amanda thought she caught a wistful longing in her sister’s expression as he left.

  “I’m hungry, Miss Sarah,” Bethany implored.

  Her brother perked up. “Me, too.”

  “Well, let’s see what we can scrape together,” Amanda heard her say, “while Sissy takes care of the animals.”

  That night, the camp was anything but quiet. News of the gold strike had the whole place abuzz, precluding the customary music and dancing while folks made plans for the remainder of the journey. Amanda and Sarah sipped coffee by their evening fire until Jared tucked his little ones into bed.

  Moments after he came to join them, the Randolphs paid a visit as well. Beaming from ear to ear, the older couple had stranger in tow. It took Amanda only one look to guess the young man was their son. He bore an uncanny resemblance to his father, already possessing similar body structure and bearing, and the same pear-shaped face. But one striking difference stood out—he had the brightest red hair Amanda had ever seen.

  “We’d like you all to meet our Charlie,” Minnie Randolph said proudly, her small blue eyes aglow as they rested on him. “He’s just come over from California to meet his pa an’ me. Charlie, this is Amanda—the sweetest little gal a body could know—and her sister, Sarah Jane, and Jared Hill, our neighbor.” She indicated each in turn.

  Amanda blushed at the emphasis of her name.

  “Howdy,” he managed, fair sunburned skin turning an even deeper hue up to his hairline as he nodded to her, then Sarah. He shook hands with Jared, who had risen to his feet.

  “How’d you find the desert trail?” Jared asked.

  “Not much good a person can say about that,” the young man admitted candidly. “But I figured my folks would do all right with me to help out.”