The funny thing about it was that, even as unusual as this whole situation had been, in actuality, it hadn’t been that earth-shaking of an occurrence. The actual marriage had been as painless as the asking had been. Once he was over the first initial shock of realizing she was the girl he’d seen, being with her had turned out to be surprisingly comfortable. Although she had the regal presence of royalty, she had a warm and sweet personality that put him right at ease and made friendship come incredibly easy.
She didn’t act like she was terribly familiar with any of this life, but she had a quirky sense of humor that let her laugh at herself and made those around her laugh with her. Already, his men were eating out of her hand and Mose appeared to think she was a cute little sister or something. Crossing the wilderness like this was always a huge undertaking, but this trip was looking more like a huge adventure by the minute.
When Giselle had looked up the boardwalk there in St. Joseph and seen the handsome young man with the long legs and gentle eyes, she had had no idea that she would be married to him within the next fifteen hours. They had come an unbelievably long way in less than a day, but she was incredibly grateful. For the first time in months, she felt safe. She’d known she would be safe with him the moment she’d realized that they would be traveling together, and his brother Mose and even the rest of the men that were beside him were a huge comfort.
Traveling with them was one thing. Now that she was actually married to him, her relief was almost overwhelming. She knew to the center of her heart that there was no way he would let Filson near her. The very second that she had seen them together she knew that. His utter disdain for the sneaky and mean Missourian had been obvious. Even though their marriage was in name only, she knew he would protect her, and although she was in a terrible fix, somehow, she knew now that everything would be okay.
Riding along on the wagon seat beside her grandfather, she wondered if she should have told Trace before she had let him marry her that she was two and a half months with child as a result of being attacked by Mormon hating mobbers near St. Louis. Henry Filson had been the ring leader of the group. He’d hounded her for months, both before and after the attack, and seeing him there in St. Joseph last night had been the most discouraging thing imaginable. She’d so hoped that she had seen the last of him when they’d finally left the St. Louis area for good.
Before leaving for the West with the first wagon train of Mormons fleeing the persecution of Missouri and Illinois, Brigham Young had asked her grandfather to do his best to try and obtain payment for the properties that the Saints had to walk away from there. Giselle’s grandmother Petja had never actually joined the Church, and she had continued to attend other churches in the area. Josiah had accompanied her every week. Because of this, even though Josiah had been baptized a Mormon, some of the folks who would have nothing to do with the other Mormons had been willing to do business with Josiah.
For more than eighteen months Josiah had worked to receive payment for the homes and farms. Ultimately he decided he’d done all that was possible and taken his wife and granddaughter and finally headed for that illusive Zion in the West. The money he was carrying for Brigham Young and the Saints was concealed in a hidden compartment in the bottom of the wagon, and only he and Petja and Giselle knew anything about it.
Now, married to an obviously capable and respected man, she actually believed that she might be free of Henry Filson. Free except for the child she carried inside her.
For a time after the attack, she had struggled to come to terms with the fact of becoming pregnant from such a horrible experience and horrible men, but she had finally made her peace with the idea. The part of her that was fair-minded to the core had eventually gotten past the ugliness of it all and focused on the fact that this child was simply an innocent victim like herself. She had vowed to do her best to mother it and protect it from the troubles it would encounter in its life as a result of the circumstances of its conception, through no fault of its own, as well as she could. She still wasn’t happy about it, but she was learning to at least not hate what had happened. In her heart, she worried there were actually two babies. Twins were common in her family, and several times she had dreamed of two babies. She sincerely hoped she was wrong. One baby born into this circumstance would be sad enough.
Looking up at her grandfather’s profile, she thought back on all the events that had led them to this place at this time. He and her grandmother had been willing to give up all the ties they had to their families and leave their beloved Holland to come with her to America and join the Saints here. How grateful she was to them for that.
Her parents had at first been horrified and then angry enough to completely disown her when she had announced her intention of joining the Church after being taught by the missionaries she had met on a trip to England. Being shunned from her family had been the most heart-breaking thing she had ever experienced in all of her fifteen years, but she had known that what the missionaries had taught her was true and right and she couldn’t deny it. So she had prepared to leave her comfortable life as the daughter of a diplomat of state to make the long trip to be with the other Saints by herself.
Her parents had enlisted her grandparents to talk some sense into her about joining this strange new “cult” church that espoused visions and prophets, and the result of their investigation had been the announcement that her grandfather believed also and he and her grandmother would be leaving for America with her.
It had been a long and troubled road so far, but she knew what she knew and had to make whatever sacrifices she had to to follow the Prophets who she knew to be the servants of God Himself. Sometimes she didn’t understand why God had let the terrible things happen to the Saints that had come to pass, but she always trusted that He knew better than she and that she was doing the right things in spite of all the troubles. When the bulk of the Saints had set out west, she had at first thought things here in Missouri and in Illinois would settle down, but the child she now carried was proof of just how wrong that idea had been. The mobs and persecution had continued and, in fact, were far worse for some than they had been for Giselle because there were many who didn’t really consider the VanKomens Mormons because of her grandmother’s refusal to join.
Wondering again if she should have told Trace about all of this, she reminded herself that this marriage had simply been a means to be able to leave the States quickly, and that once safely in the valley of the Great Salt Lake, would be annulled. Trace would be far away in California by the time she delivered. There had been no time for telling anyway. The entire scope of their acquaintance consisted of probably less than an hour of actual time spent together.
A working marital relationship that included complete disclosure wasn’t really part of this arrangement, so her conscience was soothed. At any rate, the last thing she wanted to see in Trace’s eyes was pity or revulsion because of what had happened. It was better that she say nothing and do all she could to facilitate as smooth and swift a trip as possible to reach their destinations ahead of Old Man Winter. The inevitable signs of an advancing pregnancy would tell him in time anyway. She couldn’t help the situation she was in. All she could do was make the best of it as gracefully and cheerfully as possible, which was what she fully intended to do.
*****
That first day of the trip was a strange combination of being unable to do much while they were actually en route, and then scrambling to accomplish all the necessary tasks of life once the train stopped for the night. She and Petja cooked as quickly as possible while the men saw to the task of caring for the teams and securing the stock within the circle of the wagons. Her grandmother had had the foresight to plan ahead for a quick meal, knowing what a long day this would be, and both Trace and Mose appeared pleasantly surprised when Giselle brought them supper just as they were beginning to start making their own. Trace looked up and said, “Thank you, but you didn’t need to do this. We can make our own food. We alway
s have.”
She shook her head and said, “Mr. Grayson, this is the least we could do after you helped me get away from Henry Filson. And in reality, it is wisest. It takes only a little more time when we are already cooking, and you have responsibilities that need you elsewhere. It makes sense.”
He thought about that and then replied, “Miss VanKomen, er Mrs… Giselle, we don’t expect you to fix our meals. That wasn’t part of this arrangement.”
“No, but even though this marriage is in name only, working together to get to the West is good. We should help each other and make this journey with as little trouble as we can. All of us must do whatever we can to hurry. Swiftness could save many problems in the mountains later.”
He seemed to know she was right, but wasn’t very willing to give in. “We’ll see how things go. If you do cook for us, we have to contribute supplies. Otherwise, no deal.”
She nodded. “That is fair. And there may be days when things go badly. We will see as you say.”
*****
The food was surprisingly good, considering the short amount of time they had taken to prepare it. And the help had been appreciated. There had been a number of snags to be dealt with when they had put all of the stock together for the first time. The animals had to establish a pecking order and then there were horses and mules and even the VanKomen’s milk cow and calf.
Josiah had a mule that was proving to be a hassle. It had tried to kick him as he was harnessing up that morning and now, in with the others, it was acting vicious and running the other stock, especially the cow and calf. Trace always kept his saddle horse staked out near him and thought that maybe staking either the one mule or the cattle would be in order in the future. All they needed was a stupid mule to chase off all their stock.
All day he’d been wondering if they had seen the last of Filson. Knowing the man, he expected him to show up any time, and he did shortly after they had finished dinner. Trace knew Mose had been expecting trouble as well. Upon hearing the horse, both of them went to find Giselle.
They found her before Filson did, and were both there in front of her when the shifty, overbearing Missourian appeared. Before he even had the chance to address her, Trace tore into him. “What are you doing in my camp, Filson? You’re not welcome here. Turn that horse around and crawl back into whatever hole you came out of. You don’t have the Sheriff out here to keep me from shooting a hole into your sneaky hide.”
The big Missourian didn’t back right down like he should have. “That blamed Sher’f wouldn’t see that justice was served, so I came to do it on my ownst. Gimme the girl, Grayson. She’s a crim’nal, and she ain’t going nowheres until I get my two hunnert back and she’s punished proper.”
Several more of Trace’s drivers materialized, as well as John Sykes. Trace’s blood began to boil. Generally slow to rile, the thought of this stupid brute demanding Giselle made the ancient warrior’s berserk side of him surface with a passion. “The girl is my wife, Filson! And she’s going nowhere with a dog like you! Fork your horse and leave. I won’t say it again.” He reached down and very obviously slipped the leather thong off of the gun on his hip.
Filson swallowed and looked from Trace to Mose and then the men around them. “I’ll git, but this aint the end o’ this. I’ll have my justice. You wait „n see.”
“You’re wrong, Filson! This is the end of this! If I see you anywhere near her again, I’ll assume that you mean my wife harm and shoot on sight. You and I both know that Sheriff Toblin would know exactly what had happened if your body showed back up in town tied to your horse’s saddle. He’d know that you got what you deserved. Don’t tempt me, Filson. I’ve been wishing for a chance at you for years now. Save your sorry carcass and go back to cheating people in St. Louis.”
Filson glared at him, but turned his horse and left. Trace and Mose immediately went after their horses, followed by John and the others. As Trace rode out, he looked up to see Giselle watching him with big eyes. “Don’t worry, he’ll go. We just want to make good and sure. We’ll be back.” He turned to his dog and said, “Dog, stay.” He pointed to Giselle and the huge, grizzled, gray shepherd walked over to her and turned back to look at him. “Good boy, stay.” With that, he spun his horse and headed out into the dark with a small cavalcade of men in his wake.
As he rode, he tried to calm the anger that had risen in him so fast. That was a side of him that was completely at odds with the physician in him. The physician in him wanted to heal the human body. This warrior side of him wanted to destroy one human body in particular.
He thought back to the night he had talked to his father of these things before leaving Georgia for good. His father had spoken of good men standing for something and he had been right. It was important for honorable men to be strong. Much as he disliked the anger, it was good to feel passionate in order to protect those less able to protect themselves. Nothing had ever felt as right as protecting Giselle just now. They rode on into the night, knowing that it was men like Filson who must be defeated in order for decent society to flourish. They drove him several miles back down the road toward St. Joe before turning for camp.
Back at the wagons, the anger long gone, he did a few odds and ends and then began to spread his bedroll under the wagon he had been driving. It was pitch black out, so at first he didn’t see Giselle until she was right there with her bedroll, spreading it next to his.
Wondering what in the world was going on, he finally asked her in a whisper, “What are you doing?”
She turned to him and acted like she was surprised that he asked, when she whispered back with her sweet accent, “I am getting ready for bed.”
He tried to keep his voice calm when he asked, “Here? With me?”
Continuing to spread things out, she quietly asked, “Where would you like me to sleep, Trace?”
He was a little confused at that. “I thought you would be sleeping in the wagon with your grandmother.”
She whispered back again. “All of their things are in the wagon now. There’s not room now to sleep there. And my grandparents have been married for almost forty years. They’ve never slept apart. The last few days in the wagon I’ve been…How is it said? A fifth wheel? Is there a problem with me sleeping here? I promise not to bother you.”
He shook his head hesitantly. “No… It’s not a problem. I’m just surprised. But you’re welcome. Are you sure you wouldn’t be more comfortable with more privacy? Mose could come sleep here with me if you wanted a wagon to yourself.”
She sat down on her bedding and looked at him. “Trace, if you don’t want me here, I will go, but truly, I would be afraid to sleep by myself under a wagon. I’ve never slept outside before in my life. And you’re my only option unless I sleep near my grandparents’ wagon, but then I would have to sleep beside the wagon instead of under it. Tonight that would be okay, but when it rains I would have to find someplace else anyway. I thought, since you’re the one I’m married to, you would be the best choice. No?”
It all sounded perfectly logical. He just couldn’t imagine actually being able to sleep with such a beautiful girl this close to him. Still, he had no idea how to tell her that. “No, you’re right. You’d be better here than anywhere else. And I don’t mind if you do. Do you have everything you need?”
She started taking her hair out of the braid that wound around her head. “Yes, I think I am fine, thank you. Good night.” She shook out her hair, knelt to pray, and then took off the robe she was wearing over her nightgown and climbed under the covers. Turning on her stomach, she sighed and then said in a tired voice, “Thank you, Trace. For everything. It has been a long day.”
Trace put both hands under his head and looked up at the black bottom of the wagon above him in the dark. Under the next wagon over he heard Mose begin to chuckle and then stifle it with a cough. Oh brother! How was he ever going to live this down? Or sleep? Her lying there beside him was about the most unbelievable turn of events of all. His who
le life had been turned upside down in one day.
But then married people did sleep beside each other. Even though this wasn’t really a normal marriage, maybe this arrangement wasn’t all that strange. He sighed and tried to figure out what he would have been thinking about if she hadn’t shown up here. His brain wasn’t even functioning and he couldn’t think very well. A few minutes later, he was amazed to realize that she was asleep already.
Apparently this wasn’t that big of a deal to her. She didn’t appear at all uptight about it. Either that or she hadn’t slept much the night before. She hadn’t appeared tired at dinner, but then he’d never seen her at a dinner before to know what she looked like tired.
With thought after thought tumbling around in his mind, at length the strenuous day took its toll and he drifted off. Only once in the night when she turned in her sleep and her head was close enough to him that he could smell flowers, did he wake up and realize again that a beautiful girl slept next to him. This time, he was tired enough to simply think it was kind of nice before he went back to sleep.
Waking in the cool darkness before the sun came up, he lay there for a minute wondering about the dream he had had… that she was sleeping next to him… and then she moved in her sleep and he sat up so fast that he whacked his head on the wagon bottom above. In a rush it came back to him, and he looked in wonder over at her there in the dark. Jehosaphat! It was real. He hadn’t dreamed last night.
She was beautiful asleep. Both the regal bearing and the sweet sense of humor were gone and there was only the raw beauty and simple vulnerability that emanated from her. Some innate sense that was a remnant of the primitive male within him made a need to take care of and protect her rise in him like hunger or thirst would. It was a basic, primal instinct that was as vital as the need for air. He looked at her for another moment and then got up. He had to get busy or he was never going to make it all the way across this land with her. Already, she was mixing up his head.
Journey of Honor A love story Page 3
