Wagon Train Matchmaker: Christian historical romance (Love on the Santa Fe Trail Book 3)

by Linda Ford

  Polly sat beside her. “Is he okay?”

  “I think so.” At least he had been lucid when he was awake. Surely that was a good sign.

  Polly pressed her head to Mary Mae’s shoulder. “He rode through the night.” Her voice filled with awe. “It was your fire that guided him back.”

  “I suppose it was.”

  “How’d you know to do that?”

  Mary Mae glanced up and saw the others waited for her answer. “I really don’t know. I woke in the middle of the night with only one thought on my mind. We needed a fire. A big one. Reverend Shepton must have thought I’d lost my mind.”

  The reverend laughed. “I wondered why you kept putting on more wood.”

  Warren found her hand and squeezed it. “You saved my life.”

  “I’m glad I did.”

  His fingers relaxed and she knew he slept again, but when she tried to remove her hand from his grasp, his grip tightened, so she sank back, content to stay at his side.

  The afternoon hours passed quickly as the men tended injured animals and milled around examining the various wagons.

  Warren stirred several times and twice tried to get to his feet. “I have to tell them about the wagons.” Each time, he sank back, the heel of his hand pressed to his head.

  Each time Mary Mae sent Polly to find more snow. Finally, Polly said, “That’s it. The rest has melted.”

  “Thank you, sweet child. You’ve been such a good help.”

  Polly burst into tears.

  Mary Mae stared at her. “What’s wrong? I was praising you.”

  “I don’t deserve praise or thanks. I’ve caused nothing but trouble.”

  Mary Mae hugged Polly. “Little girl, you will never be too much trouble to me. I love you.”

  Polly melted against her and stayed there for half an hour or more, then pushed to her feet. “I’m going to help more from now on.” She joined the women and asked what she could do. Soon she was running errands for each of them.

  Judith smiled as she watched Polly. “I think she’s learning the joy of helping others.”

  Warren roused as the men came in for supper. He insisted on leaning against the nearest wagon wheel and taking part in the conversation.

  Mary Mae could tell by the way his eyes narrowed and lines fanned out from the corners of his mouth that his head hurt, but at least he was awake and alert. For that she was so grateful she had to blink back the sting of tears.

  “How many animals missing?” Warren asked, and received an answer that made Mary Mae gasp.

  “How many are mine and Sam’s?”

  Mary Mae was shocked to learn the majority of the oxen fit into that category.

  The men talked a bit, discussing the loss with Warren.

  He held up a hand. “Even with Gil’s extra animals, I will only be able to take a total of three wagons.”

  The men answered with silence. They all knew the facts.

  “I want Sam’s wagons taken.”

  Polly listened. “But that means you’ll lose all yours.”

  Warren waved his hand back and forth as if to indicate it didn’t matter. “I promised Sam to take care of his wagons and his niece, and I intend to do so.”

  Polly faced him, her hands on her hips. “I don’t think Uncle Sam would agree with that.”

  Warren grinned at Mary Mae. She, too, was amused at Polly’s stance. Warren turned his gaze back to the feisty little gal. “That’s the way it’s going to be.”

  Polly’s hand dropped to her side and her bottom lip quivered. “I’m nothing but trouble.”

  Warren stared at the child then held out his arms to her. “Come here.”

  Polly hesitated until Mary Mae urged her forward, then she rushed into Warren’s outstretched arms.

  Warren held her and patted her back. “None of this is your making. We all know the challenges of the trail and decide to take those risks. You, however, did not get to make a choice. You simply came with your uncle and now you’re stuck with us.”

  She sniffled. “I know.”

  Warren’s gazed caught Mary Mae’s and the darkness she saw there wouldn’t allow her to look away. “And we can’t even give you the home your uncle promised you for Christmas.”

  “Well, you could if you weren’t so stubborn.”

  Her answer brought laughter to those gathered round.

  Mary Mae looked away. Could they offer her a home? The answer did not depend entirely on her, or she might have said yes. Warren had offered to marry her. Would he still be agreeable? But even if he was, would that guarantee a home for any of them or simply the repeated leaving that Mary Mae had grown up with?

  13

  Warren tried to stay alert, but his head had other ideas and he drifted. In his thoughts he found himself back on the open plain, laying on the ground, wolves snarling and snapping around him. It was Mary Mae’s face and her voice calling to him that gave him the strength to pull himself into the saddle. The flames of the roaring fire guided him toward the camp, but it was his heart that pulled him onward. He would get back to Mary Mae and Polly. He would not leave them.

  He drifted in and out of sleep. Remembering. Always remembering. He’d reached Mary Mae. Feeling her fingers on his cheek settled him and he sighed.

  Later—he could not judge whether it be a long while or a short one since he’d last opened his eyes—he looked into Luke’s face. He had to make his brother understand what he meant to do about the wagons. He spoke and hoped his words made sense. Luke patted his arm.

  The sounds of Judith and Donna Grace preparing their babies for bed roused him. He couldn’t decide if he should try and get up, or curl deeper under the fur covering him. As he mused about which he would do, Mary Mae came at his side. He felt her as much as heard her and cranked open his eyes.

  The worry in her gaze jerked him alert. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. It’s just I’m not sure you should be left alone overnight.”

  Her worry was over him. It brought pleasure to his heart but also concern. He didn’t want to be responsible for making anything difficult for her.

  “I’ll be okay. I’ll just sleep.”

  Luke joined Mary Mae. “I’ll help you move under the wagon in case it decides to rain or snow, though Gil says it won’t.” Luke chuckled. “I’m sure he has been wrong once in a while.”

  Warren wanted to refuse because of the effort it took to move, but the expression on the two faces regarding him convinced him he would not have the option. So he sat up, waiting for the dizziness to stop. He was about to try standing when Gil appeared. Luke took one arm and Gil the other and they held him upright while Mary Mae dragged his bedding under the wagon.

  He bit his lip to keep from groaning as the men lowered him to the ground and he crawled on his hands and knees to the bedroll and wrapped up.

  Polly hovered near the wheel. “Is he okay?”

  “I’m just fine.” He wasn’t sure that unfamiliar voice was his, but it had come from his mouth, so it had to be. Thankfully the dizziness ended. “Don’t mind if you all go away and let me sleep.”

  “That’s gratitude for you.” Luke laughed as he and Gil returned to the fire.

  “Thanks,” Warren hoped his voice carried that far.

  Mary Mae sat by the wagon watching him.

  “I’m okay,” he murmured. “Go to bed. We all need a good night’s sleep.” Tomorrow they would be traveling again. Without his wagons. He couldn’t summon the energy to care one way or the other.

  Mary Mae left. The creak of the wagon and shuffling over his head informed him she had gone to bed. The others left the fire. The flames died down. Quiet settled over the campsite. The camp dog decided to stay with Warren and he patted the furry head.

  One of the traders trod past. Buck had no doubt doubled the guard to ensure they didn’t lose any more animals.

  Warren’s loss was extensive and costly but he would do what must be done.

  He slept, thoug
h he could not estimate how long. In his dreams wolves circled him and he was unable to move a limb to protect himself. He wakened in a panic. The camp dog whined and Warren held on to him feeling a little bit of safety from the animal’s presence.

  “Warren?”

  Was he imagining Mary Mae whispering to him? He turned toward the sound and saw her shape outlined against the white canvas of the wagon across the circle.

  “Mary Mae? What are you doing here?”

  “I heard you moaning. Are you hurting? Is there something I can do for you?”

  You could lay at my side and hold my hand. But of course she couldn’t unless she married him and she had refused to do so. “I was dreaming the wolves were after me.”

  “I’m glad they didn’t get you.”

  “Go back to bed. I have Mister King with me.” He used the name Polly had given the dog, but which no one else used.

  Mary Mae laughed softly. “Good to know you are well protected. Good night.” She slipped away. The wagon creaked.

  He lay awake. If only she would marry him. Then what? She wanted a home that stood on solid ground. He was afraid to settle down. Besides, marriage wouldn’t change anything except to give him the right to have her at his side throughout the night.

  Considering the extent of his losses, maybe it was time to consider abandoning the freighting business.

  He slept again and wakened when the dog sat up. Luke was building a fire.

  Warren scrambled from his bed and joined his brother.

  Luke studied him openly. “How’s the head?”

  “Hurts some, but nothing I can’t live with.”

  Mary Mae hurried from the wagon, Polly on her heels, and they both stood before Warren.

  “Should you be up and about?” Mary Mae said.

  He rested a hand on her shoulder and ignored the urge to pull her into his arms. “I’m fine.” He didn’t point out that there were far too many things to take care of today for him to nurse a headache.

  Polly caught his other hand tight.

  For a moment he stood there, a child on one side, a woman on the other and wondered if he could open his heart to the joys, the risks and the possibility of failure in order to have them become part of his forever.

  A flurry of activity drew both Polly and Mary Mae away as they helped prepare breakfast and, despite Luke’s protests, Warren accompanied him out to the animals. It hurt to see how many were missing and that several others were too injured to be put into harness.

  Gil and Buck joined them. The teamsters continued with their work, but Warren couldn’t miss the tension as they waited for the owners to decide how they would proceed.

  “I can’t remember if I told you already,” Warren said. Yesterday was fractured bits and pieces of drifting in and out of reality. “But I’ve decided to leave my wagons and take Sam’s.”

  “That’s what you said.” Luke leaned back against the nearest wagon. “Thought you might be changing your mind once your head cleared.”

  “Nope.”

  “Sam doesn’t need the money any more. And you will now you have a family to support.”

  Warren bit back his reply. What family? He had Polly and the income from Sam’s goods would go toward her support. Maybe he’d pay someone to be her caregiver and provide the home she so badly wanted.

  Why couldn’t it be Mary Mae? She had asked to take Polly and he had refused, seeing it as solely his responsibility. The events of the last few days had made him see things differently. Maybe the child didn’t belong on the trail. Maybe he didn’t either.

  Ignoring the pain in his forehead, he directed which wagons would be left. Buck suggested they pull the abandoned wagons into the protection of some trees.

  “Could be you could get back and salvage a few things,” Buck said.

  Warren didn’t comment, having already considered them a total loss.

  They were ready to move an hour after breakfast and he climbed up beside Mary Mae. Polly crowded in between them.

  “I’m never letting you out of my sight again,” she announced.

  Mary Mae and Warren looked at each other over the child’s head and laughed. He felt dizzy at the warmth of her look. Of course, it was due to the bump on his head. Still grinning, he turned away from her gaze.

  “Polly, little gal, you will soon tire of trying to keep me in view.”

  She rocked her head back and forth. “I don’t care.” She sighed. “Well, maybe only until we get to Bent’s Fort, then we’ll be safe.”

  Safe. The word echoed through Warren’s head. His number one goal was to keep those he cared about safe. He’d failed in the past. No doubt, he would fail again. Up until now, he’d thought the only way to protect himself from such pain was to not let himself care. Somehow that was no longer possible. He cared and it scared him so much he groaned.

  Mary Mae touched the back of his hand. “Are you okay? Do you want me to drive? You could lie in the back. I thought it was too soon for you to travel, but I was outvoted.”

  He could hardly tell her it wasn’t the pain in his head that made him groan. He turned his hand to catch hers. “I’m fine. Don’t you be worrying about me.”

  She squeezed his fingers. “I wish that was possible.”

  He met her gaze. Their looks went on and on. He felt her searching deep into his soul which opened slowly, like a bud opening to the sun. And then fear and worry exerted their grasp and the petals drew back in. He forced his gaze away and stared between the mule’s ears.

  Mary Mae withdrew her hand and looked at the passing scenery. Not that she saw one single detail. She had almost told Warren that she had changed her mind. Had almost said she would marry him and go with him on the trail if that’s what he wanted. If he had given the slightest indication that it mattered to him, she would have blurted out the truth.

  Except she wasn’t sure what the truth was. She cared about him, but she wasn’t ready to throw her entire future into the hands of a man who wanted to continue traipsing back and forth. She wasn’t willing to live as her mother and her sister and her had… waiting for the return of the man they loved, hoping and praying that this time he would decide to stay with them.

  So she said nothing.

  But her conscience stung her. Was she not willing to swallow her pride and her hurt in order to provide a home for Polly? But she’d already offered to do so and he had refused.

  Besides, she must not forget Sophia and her promise to help her.

  Over the next few days, she concentrated on making meals, working on quilt squares and helping with the children. She wouldn’t admit she felt nervous and tense as she and Warren sat side by side on the wagon seat. She wanted things between them to change. But realizing a change could go the opposite direction she wished for it to go, she wanted their relationship to stay the same.

  It was a relief when they stopped for meals, freeing her from the tension of her tangled thoughts.

  She told herself she did not feel lighter, more alive when Warren sat around the campfire. Nor did she watch him more than she should as he rested. And if she did, it was only because she worried about the cut on his head. The swelling had gone down and a scab formed over the broken skin.

  Donna Grace nudged her. “Why don’t you tell him how you feel?”

  Mary Mae spun on her sister. “He knows how I feel.”

  Donna Grace raised her eyebrows. “I wonder if he does. In fact, I wonder if you do.”

  Before Mary Mae could answer, her sister walked away shaking her head.

  Mary Mae snorted. Both she and Warren knew how they felt. But it was true, Warren didn’t know how her feelings had changed. Nor was she able to tell him.

  Travel was slow as they dealt with weary and wounded oxen.

  Sunday morning, the reverend reminded them of the day. “I suggest we stop early and gives thanks to the good Lord for seeing us through the past few days.”

  Buck looked ready to say no, then nodded. “We’ll do th
at.”

  They stopped early that afternoon. Mary Mae watched the men leading the animals away and could tell the oxen had still not completely recovered from their misadventure. She smiled. Buck had called the rest as much, if not more, for the animals than for worship. Not that it made her think any less of the man.

  Donna Grace said she meant to make a special dessert for the evening meal and set about making a cobbler. “That’s the last of the dried fruit. Our supplies are getting low,” she murmured.

  The women stopped what they were doing and looked at each other. They all knew the truth, had seen it in their own wagons. They must soon reach the Fort and replenish their supplies.

  Mary Mae glanced at Polly playing nearby with Anna. “She must not know. She trusts us to take care of her.”

  The others nodded agreement.

  Mrs. Shepton pulled them into a huddle. “Have we forgotten that the good Lord has led us this far. He will take care of us.”

  Judith added, “Besides, it can’t be far now.”

  The next afternoon as they journeyed onward, Polly yelled. “I see Pike’s peak.” She pointed. Indeed, the snow-peaked mountain rose up in the distance. Mary Mae knew it to be a goodly ways off, perhaps eighty miles. But it meant they were close to the Fort.

  “We’re almost there.” Polly sat back, her voice low.

  “I thought you’d be glad to reach the Fort,” Mary Mae said, surprised at Polly’s reaction. After all they’d been through, she expected the child had reconsidered her match-making plans.

  “I wanted things to be different is all.”

  Mary Mae guessed what the child meant, so didn’t pursue the subject. Nor did she look at Warren to see his reaction. He’d had plenty of time to say something if he had in any way changed his mind, but he’d not spoken a word.

  After supper, he stood beside her. “Would you like to walk?”

  Her heart fluttered. Was he going to say what she wanted to hear? She rested her hand in the crook of his arm as they left the circle of the wagons.

  “We’ll soon be at the Fort,” he said.

  “I know.” What more could she say?

  “I’ve come to a decision.”