Mary's Musket (Clover Creek Caravan Book 2)

by Kirsten Osbourne

  “Probably not,” Mary said with a smile. “Do you need help with the cooking?”

  Hannah bit her lip. “Would you mind? I know how much you hate cooking, and I don’t want to have to ask you to do some of my chores, simply because you finished yours quickly.”

  “You know I don’t mind. What do you need?”

  “I’m making potatoes and carrots in the fire, and I’ll serve this meat with it,” Hannah said, nodding to the meat in front of her. Mary knew that while she and Hannah had dealt with some of the crises in the camp, some of the men had shot another buffalo. They tried to only get one at a time, so none of the buffalo went to waste, which would truly be a shame. “Would you be willing to make some biscuits to go with the rest of it? We’re serving the Stangers, the Bedwells, and the Tandys, as well as Jed and me. Could you possibly make four pans of biscuits?”

  “Absolutely.” Mary immediately took the ingredients that Hannah had already laid out to use, and the two of them worked together easily. “Do you remember we became friends because I taught you to make biscuits?”

  “I do remember that!” Hannah grinned at Mary. “It’s only been a few weeks, and I’m not senile yet, but I feel it coming on.”

  Mary laughed, and though the day had started with much difficulty, the two of them working together made everything better.

  When supper was ready, they took meals to the families who had lost loved ones that day, but they invited the others to Jed and Hannah’s wagon for the meal. Captain Bedwell looked both angry and sad at the same time. “What did the two of you make for us?” he asked. His voice was gruff and angry, but they both knew he was more angry with himself than anyone else.

  Hannah smiled sweetly, knowing the man was upset about the loss of his wife, and not because she’d cooked for him. “We made buffalo steaks, potatoes, carrots, and biscuits. And I have a pot of coffee hot on the fire.”

  The captain nodded. “Thank you for cooking for us.” He sounded begrudging in his words, but he had to be grateful for what the two women were doing for him and the other families who had suffered so much loss.

  His boys were with him, and they didn’t speak much, obviously still mourning their mother.

  Margaret was feeding the doctor, Jamie, and the blacksmith, as she had almost every night since they’d left Independence.

  When the meals were finished and the dishes done, Margaret called Mary over. “I noticed your ma is having a harder time than usual today. Would she take a bath if I drew one for her?”

  Mary smiled, knowing how much work it was to bring the water from the river and heat it for a bath. “You are the very best of friends.” She hugged Margaret. “I do believe she would. I’ll ask her if she’d like one. I think the water would soothe her more than anything else can.”

  Ma was resistant, but when Mary asked her to please do it, she acquiesced. “Yes, I’ll take a bath, but I don’t know why you’re so certain it’s going to help me. There’s nothing wrong with me other than the fact I’m about to lose all of my children on this death march.”

  Mary nodded, leading her mother toward the bathtub that Margaret and Hannah were working on filling. “I’ll even finish your dishes for you, Ma. That way you don’t have to worry about any more work tonight. You can just go to bed with a clear conscience.” She was willing to do anything she could to make her mother smile again, but she wasn’t sure if it would ever happen.

  “I don’t know why you think I’ll ever have a clear conscience again. I made my children walk across the country so their pa could make a little more money. I don’t know why I deserve to have a bath or any other nice things. I’ve helped kill my own babies.”

  Mary shook her head. “I don’t think any of us feel that way, Ma. I certainly don’t. I’m thrilled for the opportunities I’ll have in the west, and I’m a bit smitten with that Bob I married.”

  Her mother didn’t even crack a smile, and she usually would have. When she got to the curtain hung between wagons, Mary helped her mother unbutton her dress. “I don’t need your help clothing myself, Mary Colleen. I’ve been dressing myself since long before you were born, and I’ll keep doing it even now that you’re married and ready to have babes of your own.”

  “I’m married, but there will be no babes soon, Ma. I refuse to even think about babies, because I’m not ready for them.”

  Ma shook her head. “You’re silly as a goose, Mary. I don’t know where you get it from, but as I’m practical as the day is long, it must be that father of yours. You know you’re going to have babies as well as I do.”

  Mary had noticed her ma had more and more anger building up toward her father, just as she did. She would be glad when they had all reached Oregon happily, and her mother could draw an easy breath again. “You let me know if you need your back scrubbed, Ma. I’ll be off for now.”

  “You can’t scrub my back, because you’re washing my dishes!”

  Mary waved her mother away with a laugh, and she ducked behind the curtain to head to her parents’ fire. She washed all of the dishes her mother hadn’t yet gotten to, and when her pa joined her, she tried her hardest not to show her anger.

  “Where’s your ma?”

  “She’s having her first proper bath of the Trail. I think you’ll be happy to have a wife smelling as fresh as a daisy when she gets out of that tub in a short while.” Mary wanted to say so many more things, but for the sake of her mother, she kept quiet.

  “I hope she’s not paying that Bolling woman. She has no business being on the Trail without a man to watch out for her. The woman is a burden on everyone in this company.” He shook his head, obviously in a bad mood. Well, so was Mary, and she didn’t need to hear her pa complaining about her friends.

  “No, she’s not, Pa. She’s a hard worker, and she’s making meals, driving her team, doing her own laundry, and taking care of her girls. She’s playing the man and the woman in her family, and I don’t think any of us can complain about a single thing she’s done.”

  Her pa blustered. “I don’t know why women today think they have the right to act as men do. You think you get to make all the decisions for yourself, but there’s your husband, having to clean up your messes.”

  Mary turned to her pa, put her hands on her hips, and asked, “What messes is he cleaning up for me? I do more than my share every day.”

  “He had to take care of the buffalo you shot when you were off with the preacher’s wife the other day. Why should he have to bring the buffalo into camp when you’re the one who shot it?”

  “Pa, that’s my marriage you’re worried about now, not your own. I would be grateful if you’d pay attention to your own business, and leave me alone.” There was no way she was going to let him criticize her for letting Bob do things for her. He wanted her doing women’s work, but he also wanted her dragging heavy game into camp. The man was impossible.

  He raised his hand to slap her, and Mary refused to cow away from him. Her mother had always avoided his hand, but Mary wasn’t afraid to take the blows.

  Before his hand landed, Bob jumped between them. “Mr. Mitchell, you weren’t planning to hit my wife, were you?” His back was straight, and his voice was filled with anger. It hadn’t occurred to Mary that Bob would defend her from her own father. Of course, he shouldn’t have needed to defend her.

  “She was my daughter first, and apparently I didn’t do a very good job of disciplining her. I’m doing you a favor.”

  “Your job where Mary is concerned is done, Mr. Mitchell. I would ask you to report to me if you’re unhappy with something she says or does, and I’ll handle it in my own way.” Which was no way at all. Mary had the right to do as she pleased and say what came to her mind where her father was concerned. Bob wasn’t ever going to hit his wife, and he didn’t care who knew it.

  Her pa stood there, flexing his fists for a bit, but then he walked away. Bob turned to Mary. “He didn’t hit you, did he?”

  Mary shook her head, not sure whet
her she wanted to thank her husband for saving her from a beating, or yell at him because he felt like he needed to. “I can handle my father, you know.”

  “But you shouldn’t have to. He’s not going to anger me too much, because then he’d have two wagons to drive, and no matter how strong and powerful he thinks he is, he wouldn’t be able to manage two.”

  Mary smiled, wrapping her arms around her husband’s neck. “I like the way you think, Bob Hastings. Perhaps being married to you isn’t the worst thing that ever happened to me.”

  Bob shook his head. “It’s time for you to be grateful that I saved you from a life of spinsterhood.” He knew she would react to that, and he was glad to see her face light up with amusement. She shouldn’t have to worry that her father would beat her when she was married and out of the man’s house.

  Mary’s laughter told him he would never receive thanks for that, but it filled him with warmth anyway. She’d just had a tough experience and she could laugh. There was no one on God’s green earth who was quite like Mary. She was a special woman and unique unto herself. “What do you say we play cards with the pastor and Hannah tonight?” she asked.

  “I think that sounds like a wonderful time. I enjoy being with them. They are my kind of people.”

  “Mine too. I never thanked you for agreeing to live adjacent to the pastor and Hannah. You have no idea how much better my life will be if she is living close to me.” Mary kissed him quickly. “Thank you.”

  Bob smiled. “Yes, I do. I see your fondness for her. And for Mrs. Bolling as well, but you and Hannah have a special closeness. She’s the sister of your heart.”

  Mary grinned. “You sure are a sap, Bob. The sister of my heart indeed.” But she knew Bob was right. Hannah was the only person who she wanted as a sister more than the ones she already had. Hannah was important to her, and she knew their friendship would last the test of time.

  The following day began the long walk from Little Blue to the Platte River. Mary was pleased to see that her brother Jeremiah was well enough to walk for a while in the morning before he had to return to the wagon for the afternoon. His foot was healing nicely, and it had not become putrid, which was the biggest worry.

  They stopped for a thirty-minute meal at noon, needing to press on to make sure they didn’t have to camp without water that night. Any other captain would have simply camped in the middle, and they could all see where many companies had stopped in the past, but Captain Bedwell didn’t think it was a good idea.

  Sometimes Mary felt like he was pushing them much too hard, and sometimes she was thrilled that he was going to get them there before winter. At lunch time, she pressed biscuits into all of the children’s hands, and they ate them greedily. Captain Bedwell’s younger son, Albert, had a miserable time that afternoon. He cried several times for his mother, but Mary was afraid to go to the captain. She had no idea what he would do. He didn’t seem like the most compassionate of fathers.

  Instead, she and Hannah played a game with the children. She told the beginning of a story, and then Hannah told the next part, and they gave each child a turn to tell a little more of the story. Between them, they were all laughing by the time the train stopped for the afternoon, and Mary and Hannah felt like they had done their duty, making the little children laugh.

  When the Platte River Valley came into view, Mary held her finger out and pointed to the place where they were headed, and the children started cheering. Before long, they could hear the cheers from the entire wagon train, all of them happy to see the river they had heard so much about. It meant they would soon be able to stop for the day, which was good, because everyone was exhausted.

  That was the first night that everyone just cooked together. There seemed no point in breaking up into groups to cook any longer, because with as many deaths as they’d had, it was simply easier for them to make a huge pot of stew for everyone.

  One of the children complained they’d had stew too often, and Mary gave him a look. “It’s that or beans every night. Which would you rather?”

  The boy frowned. “Stew please.” It was one of Captain Bedwell’s boys, and both Hannah and Mary felt like they were just waiting for trouble from the boys. They felt that they were more important than the others because their father was captain, and it was hard to tell them differently.

  After the supper dishes were done that evening, Mary wandered over to find Bob, wanting time alone with him. The man she’d been so angry to have to marry had ended up being the one person in the world who could make her happy whenever she was sad. He was a good man, and she was glad her father had forced the wedding.

  As they walked, Mary talked about her day with the children, and Bob talked about the drive. “Your father told me to be more respectful this morning, but I told him I felt like I already give him more respect than he deserves. He wasn’t happy with me.”

  “I can believe that.” Mary shook her head. “Pa is really a difficult man at times, and Ma…well, I’m really worried about my ma. She seems to be having trouble with everything. She fears the death of her children so much that it’s almost as if some of them have already passed. When I remind her that we’re all fine, she doesn’t seem to believe me. It’s not how I ever wanted to see my mother.”

  He nodded. “I don’t think my mother would have been able to stand a journey like this.”

  “We’ve been married over a week, and I don’t know anything about your family. You know mine because they’re here, but I’d like to know about yours. I don’t even know if you have brothers or sisters.”

  He took a deep breath. “I’m the oldest of six. My pa died shortly after the youngest was born, and Ma has been supporting us since. I was old enough to help out on the farm, and I stayed until my next two brothers could take over from me. Charles and Bart are twins, and they’re able to run the farm on their own now. I was born and raised in Ohio, and though I loved it there, I’ve been reading about the homestead act and wanting to head to Oregon for a few years now. I finally felt like it was safe to go.”

  “What was your father like?” she asked.

  “He was a good man. Ma loved him, and she still grieves his death every day. He was a farmer, and he never had any money, but Ma said that he made her feel like she was a queen with the way he treated her. She won’t leave the farm, because it was his, so I’m sure my brothers will work there and one of them will inherit. She’ll live with one of us until the day she dies. She would never marry another man, because her love for Pa was so strong.” He almost felt like she would be better off if she remarried, but that wasn’t up to him.

  “That’s sweet.”

  Bob nodded. “Pa loved her the same way. He thought she was the most wonderful woman who had ever walked the face of the earth.” He looked at Mary. “That’s how I see you, I have to say.”

  “It is?” Mary looked at Bob with surprise. “But I’m not ladylike, and I don’t really like to do any women’s chores. I just like to hunt.”

  “So?” He caught her arm and turned her to him. “I don’t love you for the way you act. I love you for who you are deep inside. I’ve seen you with the children who have lost parents. You say that it’s Hannah who wants to do for others, but you’re always right there beside her.”

  Mary didn’t know how to respond to him, so she stepped toward him and wrapped her arms around him, kissing him just like he’d taught her. Later she’d figure out what to say to him. For now? For now, she’d make love with her husband, who made her feel special. He made even the deaths on the Trail more tolerable.

  Eight

  April 28th, 1852

  We’re following the Platte River, and I have to say it was a sight for sore eyes. It’s a wide one, and knowing we will eventually need to cross it is a bit frightening. I hope Bob isn’t the one to swim across to get rafts next time. I’m not ready to be left a widow, no matter how much I protested marrying him.

  Bob told me he loves me yesterday evening, and I had no idea what
to even say to him. Should I lie and say the same back to him, or what? I finally just kissed him and let him take it from there. Soon, I’ll have to give an answer though, and I’m dreading that day with all my might.

  My mother seems to be losing her mind. She spends every minute afraid of losing all of her children, and she is even calling our trek through the prairie to Oregon a death march. She said the Oregon Trail has been misnamed, and I worry for her.

  Pa doesn’t seem to care how she feels at all. I worry so much that she won’t be able to finish the journey because of a fragile mind.

  As much as they had all been glad to see the Platte River, they now had to walk along it every day. Even Mary was getting sick of the river, though there were many different sorts of animals to shoot along it.

  They were halfway through their day on Tuesday when there was a shout to stop. And many more shouts. Mary looked at Hannah. “Have you got the children? I think one of us needs to go!”

  At Hannah’s nod, Mary started running to the wagon way in the back with the man standing there, yelling. “What’s wrong, Mr. Claven?” She was only a bit out of breath. “Is it the babe?”

  Mr. Claven’s wife had looked like she was going to explode with the baby within her since before they’d left Independence. It was the couple’s first child, and she knew Mr. Claven was nervous, but women had babies on the Trail every day.

  “Yes, it’s the baby! Get the doctor! Find a midwife!”

  Mary laughed and patted Mr. Claven on the arm. “My ma delivered a lot of babies back home. Do you want a doctor or a midwife?”

  “Both!”

  Mary smiled and stuck her head into the back of the wagon, where she was sure Mrs. Claven was resting. She knelt next to the woman who had to be two years younger than she was. “Would you rather have a doctor or a midwife help you through this birth?”

  “A midwife please. Women need to help women through this, and doctors have no place in childbirth.”