Bright Morning Star

by J. R. Biery

  Annoyed, Claire abandoned the road bed and climbed up onto the shoulder. Here the grass was tall and her gown kept snagging on weeds and brush. It really wasn’t any easier to walk fast there. As the Brewer’s oxen passed her and she saw Faye looking up at her in surprise, Claire began to panic. She was afraid the Raglon’s wagon would pull up beside her and that horrid Raglon man might accost her again, Claire did her best to walk faster without falling or dropping back down into the rough dirt of the road bed.

  It didn’t help that the people in the wagons that had greeted her before as they passed, now wanted to have conversations about the most trivial things. “Didn’t she think the day was lovely? Had she had a nice visit with her new friend? What was that she was carrying in her arms?”

  Claire had been taught good manners, so she made small talk with each group as she drew alongside. She could feel the sun pinking her cheeks even with the bonnet on. It didn’t have the full brim and dust ruffle in back the way her ugly western poke bonnet did. For the first time she wished she had worn the dreadful thing. At least if she had grabbed her parasol, she would have been able to use it as a cane, or to shield her complexion from the hot sun.

  By the time she reached the Lambton’s wagon she was breathless and embarrassed. She could feel the perspiration darkening the thin gingham of the dress bodice, knew her face must be ablaze from the heat and her exertions. Bella looked up in surprise as Claire called to her and tried to hurry past. Of course, now Bella wanted to talk to her. Claire tried to rush without panting, held her arms tight against her waist as she answered the same inane questions.

  “Did you have a nice visit with your new friend, what was her name, Faye Brewer?” Bella asked.

  “Faye Brewer. Yes, we had a lovely visit.”

  “It’s a nice day for a walk isn’t it? Not a cloud in the sky.”

  Claire swallowed, looked up at the blazing sun and almost stumbled when she looked back down. Her skirt snagged again on a tall weed. Claire noticed in disgust it was the horrible plant Bonnie called beggar lice. It would leave tiny little triangular burrs along her petticoat and skirt hem. She flipped the skirt free and looked to see she was right, They ran in a long jagged row across the hem of her best slip.

  In horror, Claire looked up to see Henry riding back toward her. Before Tom at the ox’s shoulder or Bella in the wagon seat could ask about the book she clutched tightly, Henry called out to her.

  “Hold up a minute, you can ride Sue back to your wagon.”

  Bella made a hissing sound and Claire wondered if her face could look any redder. “No thanks,” she murmured. “I’m almost there, and you know I hate to ride.”

  Ignoring her protest, he extended an arm and swept her onto the horse, sitting in his lap. Claire closed her eyes, prepared to faint dead away with humiliation.

  Henry managed to turn the horse on the trail and ignore his wife’s protest to trot up beside the Wimberley wagon and hand her off onto the bench as her mother scooted over. “There you go. Next time don’t be so pig-headed. Take one of the horses.”

  He turned around again and pounded back to post along beside his angry wife.

  Claire looked across to read horror in her Mother’s eyes as well. She couldn’t believe Henry Lambton had dared to manhandle her and talk to her in that tone.

  <><><>

  That night, James Temple, or bean pole, as she and Faye had named him, came to call with his friend George beside him. Very politely he asked her Father if he might walk around the outside of the wagons with his daughter and her companion. Claire was as surprised as was her father, but Mother seemed pleased with his manners. She invited the two self-conscious young men to join them for coffee and bread pudding, but both were too well-mannered to accept. Instead, they walked off as though they had to inspect the cattle peacefully grazing between the bend of the wagons and the ribbon of the river winding behind them.

  Bonnie fussed and Mary Anne volunteered to go instead. Mother laughed and insisted the little girl stay to help her wash up while the big girls went for a walk with their callers. As they left the firelight, George carrying the lantern, he held Claire’s elbow. Behind them, Bonnie fell into step beside James. Like the bay horses or the cattle dogs, they were matched pairs in height. As soon as they reached the shadows, James moved up to take Claire’s other arm while Bonnie and the dogs trailed along behind.

  All three were very proper. The conversation was about the fun they’d all had dancing the night before. James turned to include Bonnie when he thanked the ladies for the wonderful music. Bonnie sniffed in answer. The man turned back to trying to draw Clair’s attention. He really had no competition. For whatever reason, the short but handsome George seemed to hold some animosity toward the lovely little Blonde.

  They completed the big arc, then turned and started back. Finally, there was a pause in conversation when they were about half-way around the circle. They could hear the men back at their own campfire arguing.

  “What did Miss Faye have to say about the dance?” George’s question surprised Claire. She looked over into his blue eyes as he lifted the lantern so he could watch her expression as she answered.

  For a moment, Claire felt annoyed. How dare this little man prefer someone as plain as Faye Brewer to her? Especially since she was the only woman on the train who was the exact height he was. They even shared the same coloring, pale, fair haired and blue-eyed. Several people had remarked about what a cute couple they made. Then she realized how silly her feelings were and laughed.

  “She had a wonderful time dancing, too. I think she found someone she favored,” Claire said.

  But no matter how the men asked, she refused to betray the other girl’s confidences. “You’ll just have to call on her tomorrow and ask her for yourselves,” Claire told them as they neared their own wagon. “Of course, you’ll probably have to walk out with her, with her father or mother as the chaperone.”

  “No need,” James said. We’ll walk her and her cousin Dorothy about, same as Gerald and Cobb have done this evening. They’ll be coming to pay their respects to you here, you see.”

  Claire became annoyed and pulled her arm free from James. They could hear voices near the fire. For a moment she wanted to make a big ruckus, demand why the two men assumed she would be home if they called. The nerve of these two, to think that after one meeting she would be pining for their courtship. Instead, she bristled, “How did you decide between you, who would call on whom this evening?” she asked. At least the two men had the grace to look embarrassed.

  She blushed as she imagined the answer. Maybe these two were the losers of the argument, the ones who had to call on her first. As to how they decided, did they flip a coin, or as she suspected, for this dishonest foursome, dice or cards would be their answer. She felt delighted to have a reason to scold them for whatever they answered. But she heard Henry yelling and tilted her head to listen, raising her hand to shush their response to her question.

  The argument stopped as the young people grew closer. Claire’s mother made her own shushing sound in warning. James stepped back and took Bonnie’s arm as they entered the clearing.

  Instead of feeling flattered, Claire felt disappointed in the quality of her first suitors. Cheeks pink, she stormed across to bend and kiss her mother’s face. Then abruptly, she said good night to all, and turned toward their wagon.

  The men bowed like gentlemen and said Goodnight, but clearly they were aware they had insulted the girl, although neither was sure how they had done it. They moved quickly out of the firelight and around inside the temporary corral back to their own campfire and wagon. As soon as they had left the circle, the argument resumed.

  “It’s wrong for a sheltered young woman to be allowed to parade around in front of God and the rest of the train. It could be bad for her reputation.”

  Bonnie coughed, “She wasn’t alone, or do I look like a bread pudding to you?”

  “No, well, I know she wasn’t alone. But
I just don’t think it’s seemly, that’s all,” Henry said.

  “Well, when you have your own daughter, you can train her up the way you like. If Claire is to find a suitable man to marry, she needs to have a chance to make her selection from the eligible men she meets. Then, if she finds one she likes, her mother and I will make sure he is worthy.” He rose, blustery and stiff.

  Bella called from their wagon, “Aren’t you coming to bed, Henry?”

  He fumed, still wanting to argue. He stomped off, clearly at a loss for what to say next.

  “Robert, are you all right,” Mother Wimberley asked.

  “Still a little stiff from sleeping on the ground,” he answered.

  “Well, keep your original accommodations. Didn’t bother me at all? You ready for bed boys?” Bonnie said as she looked around for the children.

  “They’ve already set up and turned in. So’s the little girl,” Father said.

  “Do you have guard duty early or late tonight?” Mother Wimberley asked.

  “Don’t have it at all. Me or Henry. Best to bed, all of you. We’ll be moving out at the crack of dawn tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow and every day,” Claire said from inside the wagon.

  Bonnie patted the canvas as she walked past, grinning. Claire took a deep breath. The flapping noise was as loud as though she’d said ‘Goose.’

  <><><>

  Claire should have kept quiet. But the only thrill she’d had was just now. Talking with Faye, she had realized her new friend was far less intelligent and fun than her two real friends, Bonnie and Lynne.

  That afternoon she rode back to keep her date with the other girl. Mortified by Henry snatching her up like a child to carry back to her own wagon, Claire had not dared to stand and wait to catch a ride with Dorothy Brewer the way she had Faye.

  Instead, with Bonnie beside her, riding between her and the Raglon wagon, Claire had ridden the mare back to the ninth wagon. Bonnie tied Sue to the back of the wagon, then returned to her patrol on Bob.

  There was almost no dust and Claire and Dorothy had fun flipping through the women’s magazine. This time when the visit was over, Claire had managed to tuck her skirt, mount the way Bonnie had taught her, and ride back to her own wagon without any fuss. This time she had only to nod or wave at people as she passed.

  Holding her breath beside the already sleeping Mary Anne, Claire waited for her parents to climb in from the front of the wagon and get ready to sleep together on the mattress that butted up against the one the girls shared. Space was at a premium in the tightly packed wagon, but with Father’s invention of the removable benches, each wagon had room for two regular mattresses. Both were elevated on top of cases and boxes from home with an extra stack of boxes between the two mattresses.

  Now, exhausted, she needed to sleep. But her only thrill in the long day made her heart pound and her eyes refuse to close. Henry and Father were arguing about her. Henry had been angry because of the two miserable excuses for men who had come to court her. He had argued about what was proper for her to do.

  No matter how much they both liked to pretend, she had definitely heard it there in his voice. Henry was jealous.

  Her heart beat faster in her chest and she had trouble breathing. He was married. It was wrong to feel this way, a terrible sin. But Claire felt the tears catch on the ends of her lashes and breathed slowly to ease the tightness.

  They had done nothing wrong. She had gentlemen calling on her tomorrow night, according to James Temple. Maybe it was good that the men had walked with the Brewer cousins first. She would wear her green dress, make sure she had finger combed her curls into a nest on top of her head. It would be late in the day, no need for a hat or gloves.

  She tried to remember again, what either man looked like, but all she could see or remember was Henry’s voice, full of emotion, as he argued with Father that she should be sheltered.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Claire woke in a dither of excitement, light headed from her sleepless night. She had decided to put the Lambton’s out of mind completely. There were twenty men for every woman on the frontier. She could have her pick. All she had to do was outshine the other women, and although it probably would sound immodest, it was something she knew she already did. So what if the handsome Lieutenant had ignored her and sparked to her tall friend. Mother had pointed out how sensible that was since he was so unusually tall. Claire had no interest in tall men. If James Temple were any taller, she would cross him off as well.

  She was determined to shine tonight, just in case one of the four friends, from Hanover had hidden qualities that would make him a worthy mate. It was difficult with her limited wardrobe to choose from. It even meant taking a sponge bath in the moving wagon to freshen up before changing clothes for the evening. Afterward, Mother combed and helped her style her hair, the way Mother loved to do. Claire had babbled about the possibility that one of the men might be the right one this time. She discussed the others with her mother, pointing out their flaws.

  Mother’s advice was that it took time to find the perfect jewel, one sometimes had to overturn a lot of worthless stones. Father was riding beside the wagon, apparently listening. He teased Mother that she hadn’t picked through very many and she had blushed and been flustered the rest of the afternoon. Claire asked again, but her mother told her she would only be bored by the story of how they met.

  When Claire insisted, pleaded that a daughter had a right to know how her own parents met, Mother relented.

  “Our Father’s came over from England together, right before the war. Your Grandfather Wimberley was a watchmaker and Grandfather Howard was an iron worker. America is such a young country, always with some new frontier to explore and conquer.” Mother said and paused as Father called out something to Jim ahead.

  Mother resumed as soon as the wheels began to turn again on the big wagon. “Well, they planned to become gun makers, or at least prepare ammunition. Americans are always shooting someone or each other.”

  “Grandfather met grandmother on the boat, right. Like Lynne’s parents met.”

  “Yes, but Lynne’s parents met twenty years after your grandparents. Abigail Walsh, well her distant ancestors were Welsh, but she grew up in County Cork in Ireland.”

  “And she already had all her things embroidered with W’s, don’t you see.” Claire interrupted again, this time with a fairly good imitation of the grandmother who had died when she was young. She lost both grandparents to the same epidemic that took Lynne’s baby brothers and her father and older brother, Sean. But for a moment, the laughing, merry little grandmother was alive again.

  “You are just like her. All golden curls and sunshine. I hope you never change. I always have some of Mother with me in your smile.”

  Claire leaned closer and hugged her mother as the woman’s voice tightened with emotion.

  “Whatever would I change into, a pumpkin?”

  Mother laughed and pinched her nose before kissing her on the forehead.

  <><><>

  That night had been as disappointing as the first. The men were polite, but very dull, wanting only to talk about how much better mining would be than sheep farming. Claire wondered if they expected to actually just walk around putting nuggets in their pockets. She had heard her Father and Henry talking about how the good ore had been found and claims staked. Now was the time for large scale mining, and an opportunity for merchandising to the new settlers. Besides, weren’t any of these young fools worried about the Indians?

  Back at the campfire, Claire was relieved to find Henry and Bella had already turned in for the night.

  She squeezed in between her parents on the bench, nudging her Father.

  “You interrupted the story today, so you have to tell it. How did you and Mother meet?”

  Her father laughed and circled her shoulders, reaching out a hand to tickle her mother’s neck. “We met in the cradle. Our parents lived next door to each other, worked together at the same
factory. Your Grandmother didn’t have a cradle so when your mother was born, she put the baby to bed during the day in the cradle beside me. I was a month older. We’ve practically been sleeping together ever since.”

  “Oh posh,” Mother said, cheeks flaming as she rose abruptly. “You are lucky I chose you Robert Wimberley. I had lots of beaus to pick from. I might not have been as lovely as Claire, but I had my suitors.”

  Father chuckled and Claire stared up at her beautiful Mother. Was she really prettier than Mother? She looked to her Father, but she could tell in his eyes, her mother was the clear winner.

  “Come back, pet, I was only teasing.” He gave Claire a squeeze and a kiss on the cheek, then rose to follow his still fussing wife.

  Claire knew they would take their time making-up. Frustrated, she sighed.

  Bonnie came over and sat down beside her, giving her a rough bump of the shoulder. “So what’s all that flurry about?”

  Claire shrugged. “Nothing, really. Bonnie do you ever wonder. Will we ever have that? What our mothers had?”

  “Our Mothers?”

  “You know, Lynne’s parents, my grandparents, my parents, a love so sweet and wonderful nothing else matters.”

  “Aye, it does seem to be harder. But I don’t know why not. You know, my Da and Mum love each other like that. They had a hard patch. It was more than Da losing jobs and drinking. I think it was the last bairn. I wish I hadn’t been at the factory and had had a chance to see him. But ever since we met Barney, I’ve thought a lot about my little lost brother.”