Mary’s Musket
Clover Creek Caravan
Kirsten Osbourne
Copyright © 2020 by Kirsten Osbourne
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
About the Author
Also by Kirsten Osbourne
One
April 9th, 1852
Mary’s Journal, Kansas Territory
We are now camped on the Nemaha River. After almost two weeks on the Trail, we seem to have found our rhythm and things are moving along well. I’m traveling the Trail with my parents, but they don’t know that I plan to file for my own homestead once we’ve reached our destination. I know they wouldn’t approve, because they feel like that’s too manly, but Oregon is the one place in the world where I can file, and I can live there alone.
Already I’m something of an oddity to the other women going west thanks to my ability to shoot any animal that moves. I don’t let it bother me too much though, because I do love the ability to do manly things while still looking like a lady.
Speaking of looking like a lady, I danced with Bob Hastings—the man Pa hired to drive our family’s second wagon—tonight. The doctor played the Jew’s harp, Herbert Jensen played fiddle, and Jamie Prewitt played the guitar. The men play, and we all dance, acting as if we’re having a party every evening after walking twenty miles. We’re probably all crazy to dance and celebrate, but the truth is tomorrow we may die.
So far, we’ve only had one bad accident on the Trail, and no deaths. I expect that to change any day, but I pray it doesn’t.
After dancing with Bob, he asked me to walk with him, and though I knew it would anger my father, we sneaked out of camp and walked along the river. I think we passed my dear friend Hannah as she was doing her laundry, but she won’t say anything. She is the one person on this Trail, I can trust with any secret.
When we had walked along the river for a while, Bob caught me by the shoulders, and he kissed me. I know I shouldn’t talk of such things, but since I never intend to let anyone read this journal, and I may burst into flames if I don’t at least tell someone, I will talk about it here. His lips were soft against mine, and when he pulled me against him for a kiss…let’s just say it made me think maybe I could marry after all.
He made me feel things in parts of my body that I ought not to mention, but I’m a farm girl at heart. Of course, I know they exist, and I know exactly what happens between a man and woman. I wanted to clutch his shoulders and melt into his arms, but no one would expect that of me. I’m a strong, independent woman from Missouri who is going west to claim a homestead. I do not belong in the arms of a young man traveling west to find his fortune. Not under any circumstances.
After a very long day on the trail, Mary Mitchell sat with her family enjoying the music several of the unmarried men of her wagon train were playing. She was a spinster at twenty-two, and she wasn’t even a little bit ashamed. No, Mary was happy with who she was, and she was certain she’d never marry. Why would she? She could get anything she wanted or needed out west without marrying. There was no reason to sell herself into servitude to a man and his seed. She wasn’t going to do it.
She’d watched her mother and how difficult it was for her, having eight children, and Mary suspected there was another on the way. Her mother had birthed Mary when she was only fifteen, and she had more child-bearing years left. Though why any woman would choose to live a life of serving others, she had no idea.
She sat with her family, watching the men play the music and feeling her foot tapping along in time to the music, when Bob Hastings stopped in front of her. “Care to dance, Miss Mitchell?”
Mary’s immediate inclination was to tell him no. She had no desire to dance or to make him think that she would have an interest in him of any sort. But she so loved to dance, and the music was flowing through her veins in a way that made her want to get out and dance alone if that was the only way she could dance.
After just a moment’s hesitation, she nodded, putting her hand in his. “I’d enjoy that, Mr. Hastings.”
He led her out to the middle of the circle with the wagons, and the two of them danced to the fast, loud music. He swung her around and her skirt flared out dramatically. It made her exceptionally happy she had remembered not to wear her split skirt that evening. Her mother would have skinned her alive without a second thought.
Everyone had started clapping in time to the music, and Bob had taken their enthusiasm as a bit of a challenge. He pulled her in closer and started doing some fancy steps that Mary matched without giving it a second thought. He had a way of making her think he could read her mind, which made them good partners at cards, but it also made them able to dance well together.
They danced song after song, until laughing and out of breath, she told him she needed a break from the excitement.
“Walk with me, Miss Mitchell.” Bob was always so cordial, but he hadn’t made his interest in her a secret from anyone.
Mary shook her head. “Oh, my pa wouldn’t approve. You’d be risking your job.” Her pa didn’t approve of anything. She was allowed to have a man court her, but only if he approved of the man first. For someone who had taught her to be independent from the moment she could walk, he was a very difficult man to please.
“Your pa never has to know we walked together. We’ll just follow the river a ways, and then we’ll come right back. Isn’t your pa on guard duty tonight?”
Mary smiled, and nodded. “That he is. All right, you walk down out of sight of camp, and then I’ll follow a minute later. No one will ever know.” Well, they might figure it out, but hopefully her pa would never know. That was the important thing.
Bob waited for her right next to the river, but the camp was on higher ground so they wouldn’t risk flooding. She waited until he’d disappeared and then she left, finding him at the river, and giggling a little. “Let’s run, and then we’ll walk when there’s no risk of discovery,” Mary suggested. She knew she was too old to find so much excitement in doing what she knew would get her into trouble, but it didn’t seem to matter to her.
Mary and Bob laughed as they ran away from the others, and they walked slowly along the river bank. Bob made her feel differently than any of the young men her father had tried to make her marry before. She wasn’t certain how he would feel about her interest in shooting though. “Do you think we’ll see buffalo soon?”
Bob nodded. “I’ll be surprised if we haven’t killed one within a week.”
“Really?” Mary was excited. “I so want to be the first to bring in a buffalo!” She wasn’t certain why it was so important to her to be the first, but it was. She’d even been dreaming about it.
“You do? I’ve heard you can really shoot, but I haven’t seen you use that musket you always carry.”
Mary shrugged. “I’ve been a lot more careful since my brother shot himself in the foot. I don’t know why he was even touching my musket, because he knew better.” She shook her head. “I felt so bad.” She still felt badly about it. Her mother now had to ride in the wagon with her brother and was unable to walk. She knew it wasn’t good for anyone to ride in that bumpy wagon.<
br />
“You shouldn’t. Remember, I work for your father. There’s no way he would not teach all of his children about guns.”
“He taught me first, of course, because I’m the oldest.” Mary shook her head. “I feel like I should be sitting with him all the time and making certain he doesn’t get hurt again.” Her ma would never let her do it though.
“His parents need to sit with him, not his sister. Why did you agree to come west when you knew it meant you having to care for your siblings on this trip?”
Mary shrugged. “I suppose because I wanted to go west myself.” She looked at him, and then out at the expanse of the river. “Can I share a secret with you and you not tell my father?” She wasn’t sure why she felt the need to confide in him, but she had felt the same with Hannah, and Hannah had kept Mary’s secret.
Bob nodded. “Don’t get me in trouble with my boss now. I need to have food all the way to Oregon.”
She laughed. Her father was giving him food in exchange for driving their second wagon to Oregon. “Well, I plan to get my own homestead when we get to Oregon. I think Pa thinks I’ll find a man there, but that’s not what I want. Why would I want to be married to a man and have him own everything I work for? I want to own it myself.”
Bob looked at her with surprise. “You think you can handle a homestead completely on your own?”
“Yes, I do. I’ve done a man’s work every day of my life, and now I’m expected to do women’s work, and I don’t like it nearly as much. If I can drive a team of oxen, why not let me? Pa is insisting I do women’s work the entire trail, and I’m cooking and caring for children and helping with laundry. But I’ve shot deer and antelope and even a few bunnies, and when I do those things, I feel alive! I only feel like I’m allowed to be half a person when I have to tend the children.”
He caught her hand and stopped her, putting a hand to her cheek. “Well, if you ever change your mind and are willing to do a woman’s work, know that I’m the man for you to talk to.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’m looking for a wife, and I know we work well together. Look at how well we danced together. Look at how well we play cards together. I feel like you’re the woman God made for me.” His brown eyes were earnest as they stared into her green.
Mary shook her head. “No, Bob, you can’t think that. I belong with myself. No man is going to be able to deal with how much I love to do manly things. How could they?” It made her sad to have to say it, because he was a lovely person and she cared for him, but there was no way he could deal with the way she acted.
“Could you do both like you do now? You could help me in the fields but have supper ready?”
She laughed. “Only a man would suggest that. If a woman has a job outside the home, you would still think she needed to fix suppers. But if the woman does the same type of work you do, why would that be all right?”
Bob sighed. “I’d milk the cows and collect the eggs if you cooked.”
Mary shook her head. “No, that won’t work. Why should I have to do the same amount of work as you and then keep the house? No, if you want me for a wife, you need to hire someone to be my wife and do all the chores I hate.”
He laughed. “Hey, we’re on the Oregon Trail, not the Mormon Trail.”
She giggled. “Glad to hear it, because even though I need a wife, I sure don’t want to share a husband.”
He cupped her face in his hands. “Are you certain you won’t consider marrying me?”
Mary nodded, but she felt mesmerized by the look in his brown eyes. When he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, she wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging to him. His lips were so soft, and she wanted them on hers for the rest of her life.
When he raised his head, his face looked dazed. “Mary, please!”
It took all she had inside her to say, “No. I can’t marry you.” She turned from him and walked back to camp, not even waiting to see if he was following. If she stayed with him any longer, he’d convince her. Never in her life had she been as attracted to a man as she was to Bob.
She felt tears prick her eyes, and she tried to ignore them for a moment, but she found herself angrily dashing them off her cheeks. Why did Bob have to come along and make her change all the plans she’d been making for herself?
Being a wife was akin to being a slave, and she was not going to be a slave to any man. No, she would get her homestead, and she would live out her days alone. Perhaps Hannah would give her one of the kittens from the litter her two babies were bound to have. Then she would have a companion that was better than any man.
When she got to camp, she didn’t want to return to her family, and the music was over, and everyone seemed settled. She instead sat in front of the fire, watching the flames and imagining how wonderful it would be to be loved by someone and to love them in return. But she must be loved for everything she was, and not just for part of her.
She’d never been like her friends who wanted to marry and dreamed about their future husbands. She was more practical than that, and…well, she was busy shooting and helping her pa on the farm. Now, though, she felt like she’d been forced to be in contact with so many young men. Why there were more than five unattached men in the wagon train. There were many people part of the company she didn’t know at all yet.
Bob, though, he’d caught her eye before they’d left Independence, and he’d never made any secret of his feelings for her. She’d loved having his affections and attentions. But…she also didn’t want to commit to marry a man. How could she sell herself into a life of domestic slavery? It made no sense to her.
She noticed Bob come back into camp, but he didn’t even look at her, as he rolled out his bed on the ground and fell asleep. She knew he’d seen her, but apparently his feelings were too hurt to acknowledge her presence.
With no desire to hurt another, she had, and now she needed to find a way to get him to forgive her. If he would.
Long into the night, Mary watched the flames of the fire, and just before dawn, when she knew the gunshot to wake them all was going to sound, she crawled into the tent with her younger sisters and fell asleep.
It felt like she’d only closed her eyes for ten minutes when she woke up, and she groaned as she rubbed them. Her younger sisters, Annie and Maisie, were sleeping in the tent along with her, and she sat up. “Time to get up Annie. Time to wake up Maisie.” Her mother had just weaned Maisie when they started on the trail, so Maisie wasn’t used to sleeping with her sisters.
Her mother had been unlucky enough to give birth to three girls. There were five boys, and Mary envied them the freedom they’d have when they were older, but the girls would only be allowed to help inside. She’d been an only child for twelve years before her oldest brother was born, and she’d experienced the freedom most boys got, but then it had been yanked away soon after her brother’s birth.
Still, Mary couldn’t help but want to do the things she’d always done and been good at.
Thankfully, Ma was on cooking duty, so she could go out for breakfast and not be put to work on the food for the family. Instead, she was told to get the laundry baskets and go down to the river and start the week’s laundry. It was Sunday, and that was her favorite day of the week. Sundays meant they stayed where they were on the trail for one day, and they did the wash, maybe a bit of hunting, and they had church services.
Mary wasn’t bothered that most people thought it was ungodly for a woman to act the way she did. She knew that God was happy with her for working as hard as she did, whether it was men’s work or women’s work. She felt right with God, and she simply wished others would understand she could be a good person and still be like she was.
She went to the river, looking around for Hannah or Margaret. Hannah wasn’t there, which wasn’t a surprise since she’d seen her at the river washing the night before. Margaret was on her knees beside the river, washing tiny little garments with a scrub board. Mary went over to M
argaret, and she started washing her family’s clothes, talking softly to her friend as she did.
“Where are the girls?” Mary asked, a little surprised not to see the girls around anywhere.
“I let them sleep. They don’t need to be up early, and they’ll have an easier time sitting still through church services if I let them laze about this morning.” Margaret was a young widow with two active daughters. The girls usually walked with Mary and her friend Hannah, while their mother drove the family wagon.
“I think that’s a great idea.”
“I noticed you and Bob did a lot of dancing last night, and then you both disappeared around the same time,” Margaret said, a half-grin on her face.
Mary groaned. “If you noticed, I’m sure half the camp did. That’s not good. If Pa finds out, he’ll skin me alive.”
Margaret laughed. “Hopefully no one else noticed. I won’t say a word to anyone. You and Hannah have kept my family going on this trip and you have my never-ending friendship, and I will be your secret-keeper forever for that.”
Mary breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you. The last thing I need is to be forced into a marriage with Bob Hastings.” As much as she liked Bob, she was sure he wasn’t going to be accepting of her ways if they became more than friends.
“Hello, Bob!” Margaret called.
Mary shook her head at her friend. “Not nice to try to scare me that way.”
“She’s not trying to scare you,” said Bob’s voice from behind her.
Mary spun around to him, and he looked both hurt and angry. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”
“It’s pretty much what you told me last night. You won’t marry me, and you don’t want to be around me. I get the message.” He turned and stalked away from them, and Mary felt tears pop into her tired eyes.
Mary's Musket (Clover Creek Caravan Book 2) Page 1
