Wagon Train Wedding

by Rhonda Gibson

  “I like that game.” Martha scribbled more notes in her notebook.

  “You can also add the letter N to people’s names. You could ask each child what their name would be if it started with N. Like, mine would be Nora and yours would be Nartha.” She grinned at the girl.

  Martha chuckled and wrote that in her notebook, as well. “Daniel’s would be Naniel. That’s funny.”

  “Right, and it should keep the kids’ attention. Games are a great way to educate children. Now use your imagination and start thinking of ways you can get them to learn the other lessons you are teaching them.” When Martha nodded and turned her attention back to her teacher’s journal, Cora focused on Flynn.

  He walked several feet in front of them beside the oxen. Over the past several weeks, he’d bought them a cow, bartered for eggs, and even come home the night before with a small bag of dried fruit. As he’d promised, he’d taught her how to make the fire so that it wasn’t so hot that it burned everything, but not so low that their food was undercooked.

  Martha laid her hand on Cora’s sleeve. “Cora, I think I’ll go walk with Ma a spell. She’ll be happy to know that you are helping me address the kids’ attention problems.”

  Cora smiled. “I’m glad I could be of help.”

  She watched as Martha hurried up to her parents’ wagon. The night before, Mr. Tucker had moved everyone’s position in the line. The Philmore wagon now was three ahead of theirs. The general idea was to keep one set of wagons from having to take up the rear all the time. She dreaded when their wagon would be assigned to the end. Dirt and animal droppings from all the wagons ahead of you were a problem if you weren’t careful.

  Sarah turned and waved at Cora. It was fun teaching Martha, but it also served as a reminder that being a teacher herself wasn’t an option any longer. No town council would hire a widow with a baby to be their schoolteacher. She tried to imagine other work she might be able to do in Oregon, but she struggled to come up with possibilities.

  Cora also worried that her brother-in-law, Hank, would catch up with them. Every evening she had gone to bed with a small sense of relief, knowing he hadn’t caught up with them that day. She prayed he wasn’t looking for baby Noah, but deep down, Cora didn’t believe that for a moment. Out of meanness alone, Hank was out there looking for the boy. What was she going to do if he ever did show up?

  * * *

  Later that night, Flynn lay on his back in the wagon, listening to the rain crash against the white canvas. Thankfully, their canvas wasn’t leaking. Lightning flashed, revealing Cora and the baby sleeping on the other side of the wagon. The interior wasn’t a very big space, and most of it was taken up by supplies, but Cora had realized the rain was coming, and during one of the few breaks they’d taken earlier in the afternoon, she had created a sleeping space for the three of them.

  Flynn folded his hands behind his head and thought about the changes he’d seen in his wife. Her cooking had improved, and she’d made several friends. One of them had even traded her a bonnet in exchange for a small bowl of blackberries Cora had found beside the river. She was a good forager, often finding nuts and berries for them, and she’d proved to be adept at trading with the rest of the group for other little things they found themselves needing along the way.

  Her appearance had changed, as well. The freckles across her nose were a little darker than the day he’d met her, revealing that even the slightest sun would cause them to show up even more. She smiled often and laughed with Martha as they discussed lessons and talked about how to teach Martha’s sisters. But Flynn still saw fear in her eyes several times a day. Would she ever confide in him what caused her such distress?

  Thunder shook the wagon just as lightning flashed once more. His gaze moved to Cora and the baby again. Her voice whispered across to him. “Do you think the storm will last all night?”

  He whispered back, “I don’t know. I’m sorry the thunder woke you. How’s Noah doing?”

  “He’s sleeping soundly.”

  Flynn heard her moving about. “Thank you for making us a dry place to sleep tonight. I’d hate to be under the wagon in this weather.”

  “No need to thank me. I’m glad you are in here with us. I have never liked storms, even though Pa always told Gracie and me that storms were God’s way of making sure that the earth didn’t dry up and blow away and that there was nothing to be fearful of.”

  He looked up at the canvas and grinned. “Did that help you fear them less?”

  Her voice quivered. “Not really, but then he’d tell us the story of Noah and the ark Noah and his sons built. Pa named off different animals that were saved from the flood and had us name a few. That always made us forget about the storm for a while.” Cora’s voice had calmed in the telling of her past.

  “Is that why you named your son Noah?”

  Silence filled the wagon. Flynn waited for her answer as thunder sounded in the distance. The rain stopped pounding the canvas and became a steady light dripping.

  Just when he thought she wasn’t going to answer, Cora said, “The baby was named after our pa. His name was James Noah Edwards.”

  Flynn heard her yawn. “That explains why he enjoyed the story of Noah’s ark.”

  “I suppose so.”

  He waited for her to say more and then decided she had fallen to sleep. He thought about what she’d said and wondered that her maiden name and married name were the same. But then, Edwards was a common name—it could have been her husband’s as well as her father’s. Or maybe she’d decided to go back to using her maiden name for some reason? That fear in her eyes...it made him wonder if her marriage had been an unhappy one. Perhaps she’d wanted to leave all associations with her husband behind.

  When he heard the rifle shots announcing it was time to start the day, Flynn rose slowly. He didn’t want to move the wagon too much and wake the baby.

  Cora yawned and stretched beside Noah. “I don’t hear rain,” she offered as she pushed back the small blanket she and the infant slept under.

  “No, it quit shortly after you fell asleep.” Flynn scooted to the foot of the wagon and pulled on his boots. “I’ll start the fire for you this morning.”

  “Thank you. I gathered wood and twigs yesterday. They are behind the boxes to your left.”

  Flynn looked back at her. She was brushing out her hair. “You gathered wood yesterday?”

  She wrapped her hair up into a knot on the back of her head. “I gather wood and store it in the wagon every day. It saves me time in the mornings and ensures that the wood is dry, making the fire easier to start.” She paused and looked to him. “Doesn’t everyone do that?”

  Flynn shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  Cora laughed. “Well, I hope they do. If they don’t, it’s going to take longer to make hot coffee this morning.”

  He looked behind the box and saw that Cora had a nice supply of wood and kindling. She was right—dry wood would make starting the morning fire easier. Most everyone would be eating leftovers, as they did every day, to shorten the time needed for breakfast, but everyone enjoyed a hot pot of coffee first thing in the mornings. How many people would be drinking water this morning and looking for dry firewood for later in the day? Could he use his fire to reach out to those around him and maybe catch the killer in their midst? Over the past few weeks, he’d tried to get to know the other men in the wagon train, but the need to stick close to his wagon for most of the day meant that he really only became friendly with those positioned around him. This was a chance to widen his net.

  Flynn worked fast and began brewing coffee. When his was about ready, he turned to Joe. “Joe, pass the word that we have a fire and anyone that wants fresh coffee this morning is welcome to use our camp.”

  Joe grinned. “Pa will be glad to hear that.” He did what Joe always did when he was in a hurry. He ran to his parents’ wagon.
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  Flynn chuckled. The boy would spread the word and soon everyone would be using the fire and making fresh coffee.

  “Looks like you are the only one with dry wood to make a fire.” Doc walked around the back of Flynn’s wagon.

  “Probably not the only one, but I’m willing to share with those who need it. Think Mrs. Clarkson would like to bring her coffeepot and make coffee?”

  The doctor laughed. “No, she’ll sleep for the next half hour.” He held up a tin coffeepot. “But I wouldn’t mind a fresh pot.”

  Flynn motioned him forward. “Come on over. Better work fast—we’ll have more folks here in a few moments.”

  “Thank you.” The doctor set his coffeepot next to the one Flynn had placed on the grate over the open fire. “That storm last night was wild.”

  Flynn looked at the doctor. He looked wet and tired. “Were you on guard duty?”

  The older man nodded. “Yeah, and I don’t mind telling you it was miserable. I felt like a rat in a city gutter.”

  Ben Witmore and his wife, Emma, approached. They were a pleasant young couple whom he’d recently met a few days earlier. Ben’s brother, Stuart, was traveling with them. Ben and Emma had spoken of starting their family on farmland in Oregon, while Stuart had other plans. The Witmore couple had big dreams.

  “Joe tells us you have a nice fire going and that we can warm up our coffee on it,” Ben said as he shook hands with Flynn.

  Flynn nodded at Emma. “Sure do, and you are more than welcome to use it.”

  He watched as Emma set their coffeepot on the grate. She looked up at him and smiled. “Thank you.”

  Before he could answer, Cora climbed out of the wagon and then turned to get Noah. Cradling the baby close, she scolded, “Flynn, I would have started the coffee.” She sniffed appreciatively and smiled. “But I’m glad you didn’t wait for me. It smells wonderful.”

  He poured her a cup, handed it to her and took Noah from her arms. Noah fussed for a moment but settled when he realized it was Flynn who had taken him from his mother. Flynn had noticed the baby seemed unsure of most people. Noah puckered his lips every time someone besides Flynn or Martha took the baby from Cora.

  He looked to Cora and grinned. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve invited everyone who didn’t have dry wood to come use our fire to make their coffee.”

  She smiled at Emma. “Of course I don’t mind. Good morning, Emma.”

  The other woman returned her smile. “Good morning. I didn’t get a chance to thank you yesterday for helping me with my wash, so I’ll say it now. Thank you.”

  “It was my pleasure.”

  Ben shook his head. “I can’t believe I was foolish enough not to gather the firewood last night.”

  Emma laid her hand on his arm. “It was my fault.”

  While the young couple discussed who was to blame for not collecting the wood, Flynn leaned down and whispered in Cora’s ear, “I’m not sharing the firewood, just the fire. We may have another shower tonight and need dry wood in the morning.”

  Cora nodded her head in understanding. Flynn stepped back and gazed into her pretty eyes. She had secrets, but he didn’t think they were the kind that would harm him or the baby. Whatever pain or trouble she carried from her past, he just prayed someday she’d confide in him.

  “She really is a jewel, Flynn. I’m glad you found her.” Doc rocked on his boots.

  Flynn smiled. “Yes, she is.” He pulled his gaze from her and confessed, “If it wasn’t for her, we’d be drinking water this morning and gathering wood as we traveled today.”

  Cora’s cheeks turned a soft pink and she ducked her head. It seemed to Flynn Cora ducked her head often and normally when her cheeks were pink. They’d been married for a month and she still blushed on a regular basis, often trying to hide it from him. He didn’t know why she felt the need to hide. Did she not realize how charming he found it?

  “Noah, you ready to go get your milk?” Flynn asked the little boy. He took a small bucket that hung on the side of the wagon. “Cora, we’ll be right back. Doc, would you like to go with us?”

  The doctor shook his head. “No, thank you. I believe I’ll wait right here and then take this fresh coffee to Harold. He’s a bear before he’s had his coffee.” He laughed as if he were making a joke.

  Flynn waited for her nod and then carried Noah toward the cows that were corralled just outside the circle of wagons. Several young men took turns attending the animals. It amazed him how well the wagon train was maintained. Charlie Philmore waved to him. Flynn waved back and continued toward the young man.

  “Ready to milk ole Mertle?” Charlie had already put a rope around the cow’s neck and pulled her to where they now stood under a big maple tree.

  Flynn nodded. “We sure are.” He started to hand Noah over to the young man. Noah seemed so calm and content—maybe this time, the handoff would go smoothly...but no.

  Noah grabbed Flynn’s shirt with both hands, his face turned red, and he let out a scream that Flynn was sure Cora could hear at their wagon. “There, there, Noah.” He awkwardly patted the baby’s back, trying not to hit him with the pail.

  “How about I milk the cow?” Charlie offered as he took the bucket from Flynn.

  Flynn continued to rub Noah’s back. The baby clung to him like a second skin. “I don’t know why, but this little man isn’t ready to socialize with others just yet.”

  The sound of warm milk hitting the side of the milk bucket and baying cows filled the morning air. Noah settled down and hid his little face in Flynn’s shirtfront.

  Charlie glanced over his shoulder. “Nothing’s wrong with him. He’s about eight or nine months old, right?”

  Flynn nodded. Amazement filled his voice. “Cora said he’s ten months old this month.”

  Charlie turned his attention back to the milking but spoke loud enough that Flynn could hear him. “That explains it. Babies his age aren’t real sure of what’s going on around them, so they cling to their parents for comfort when something don’t feel right to them.”

  Flynn stared at Charlie’s back. “How do you know so much about babies?” he asked, feeling very uneducated when it came to children. Between Cora and Martha, Noah’s needs were handled so capably that he’d had to do very little for the boy over the past few weeks.

  Charlie stood and handed him the half-full bucket. “I have little brothers and sisters, remember. Plus, Ma wants me to be a doctor, so she has been filling my head with all kinds of practical things about what little ones need at different times.”

  Flynn walked back to the wagon. Noah began to cry halfway back and Flynn could only guess that the baby was hungry. Lately, there were so many things he was learning that he hadn’t previously known. Where women were concerned, he’d always been in the dark. Despite growing up with a mother and a sister, he hadn’t felt prepared in the slightest to start a life with a woman—much less a woman with a child. Cora’s past and moods definitely had him stumped, and now that he was a husband and parent, Flynn felt even more inept. He pulled his shoulders back and silently vowed to learn more about his tiny family, even if they were going to be a family for only a few more months.

  Chapter Eight

  Cora and Flynn walked beside the Little Blue River after lunch. The wagon master had given them a day of rest, which she was thankful for. The plains were flat and the wind oftentimes blew until one was sick of hearing it and feeling the dirt it carried scratch one’s face.

  Noah slept in his sling across her chest. The little boy was becoming more active every day and she enjoyed these quiet times. She lovingly brushed his bangs across his forehead and breathed in a happy breath. Gracie would have been so proud of the way Noah had adjusted. The first week had been hard on the little boy, but now he seemed to be more content with her and Flynn as parents. She wondered how much he understood, if he knew wha
t he was missing. For herself, Cora knew her heart would forever long for her twin, but the pain was less sharp than it had been at the start of the journey.

  “Did I tell you Noah said ‘Mama’ this morning?” Flynn asked. He knelt beside the water and scooped up a few rocks.

  Cora shook her head. “He did?” Had he been calling for Gracie or her?

  Flynn skipped a rock across the river water’s surface. “He did.”

  Cora watched the rock sink. Her heart felt like sinking, too. During the last couple of weeks, she had managed to not dwell on Gracie’s passing. Sadness enveloped her once more at the loss of her sister.

  Flynn glanced her way. “I thought you’d be happy.” He searched her face as he walked back to her and the baby.

  She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I am.” A tear slid down her cheek.

  He stopped in front of her and wiped the moisture from Cora’s face. “So this is a happy tear?”

  Cora wouldn’t lie. “No, it’s a sad tear.”

  The look of concern on his face mingled with a look that said he’d never understand her. Cora offered him a smile. “Don’t worry. I’m fine. My emotions are all over the place, that’s all.” When he didn’t respond, she continued, “I’m glad Noah is talking.” She cradled the baby to her.

  Flynn took her free hand and tucked it into his elbow. “Let’s walk this way.” He led her away from the river’s edge to the meadow and away from the group of kids who had decided to swim in the river.

  Wildflowers dotted the green grass with wonderful splashes of color. “This place is beautiful,” Cora said, still fighting the urge to cry like a baby over the loss of her sister.

  His gaze met hers, and he said, “Very beautiful.” Then he looked away quickly.

  Cora had the feeling he wasn’t talking about the flowers but about her. That’s crazy, she told herself. They’d been married almost two months and he’d never told her she was pretty, let alone beautiful. She searched for something else they could talk about, anything to take away the uncomfortable feeling she was now feeling.