Mary's Musket (Clover Creek Caravan Book 2)

by Kirsten Osbourne

  Mrs. Claven looked very calm to Mary. “How long have you been having pains?”

  “Only a couple of hours. I told Peter that we could keep going all day and not even mention it until tonight, but he started shouting.”

  Mary smiled. “Isn’t that just like a man?” She climbed back down. “I’m going to go get my ma, and she’ll come back here and help you out.”

  “And you too?” the woman asked, her eyes pleading.

  “My usual role is to stay with all the children in camp while more qualified people deal with things like childbirth. Are you sure you want me to be part of it?” Mary asked.

  “Yes, please.”

  “All right then,” Mary said. Inside she was shaking, but if the woman wanted her help, she’d get it. “If I’m about to help you birth that baby, you need to tell me your first name. I’m Mary.”

  “I’m Sharon.”

  “All right, Sharon. I’ll be back in just a moment with someone who knows how to help you.” Mary smiled at Mr. Claven, who looked as if he’d seen the ghost of Jesus Christ himself. “She’s going to be all right.” Of course, Mary had no idea if she was telling the truth or not, but it did seem to be the right thing to say.

  He nodded and sank to the ground, right there behind the family wagon.

  Mary walked to her mother, who was sitting in the back of the wagon her father drove with Annie. Jeremiah had been walking again. “Ma, Mrs. Claven is about to have her baby. She needs you.”

  Her mother shook her head adamantly. “No more children need to be on this death march. Tell her to cross her legs.”

  “Ma, I’m not going to tell a woman in labor to cross her legs. You stop being selfish and get down here and help her. There’s no one else to do it.” Her ma was taking things too far if she wasn’t willing to help a woman in labor.

  “There’s the doctor. Fetch the doctor.” Ma sat stubbornly refusing to move even a muscle.

  “No, because she wants a woman to help her. This is her first baby. I can’t believe you’re refusing to help her. What if it was me on the Trail, and you weren’t with me? Wouldn’t you want someone to help me?” Mary didn’t know what else to say to get her mother to move, and she prayed that would be enough.

  “I would.” Her mother looked disgusted but she got out of the wagon. “Where is she?”

  Mary took her back to the Clavens’ wagon, and her mother climbed in the back. “She wants me here too, Ma, but there’s nothing I can do.”

  Her mother skewered her with a look. “If I’m here, then you’re going to be here too. Get up here.” There was no way Mary was going to get out of helping with the birth, despite the fact that she’d rather be anywhere else on earth.

  Mary wanted to turn and run back to Hannah, but she couldn’t. She heard sounds around them as they stopped the wagons for the day and set up camp. Mary held the hand of Sharon, while her mother checked to see if she was close to ready to give birth.

  “We’ve got hours yet. Mary, tell her husband to have someone boil water. It’ll give him something to do so he’s not interrupting.”

  Mary giggled, but called down the message to Mr. Claven, who ran for someone to start some water. He looked like there was a bear running after him, he ran so fast.

  The captain came down and demanded to know what was happening, and Mary told him the train wasn’t moving until the baby was born, and she didn’t care what he thought about it. “There’s been enough death on this Trail. We need new life, and that’s what we’re working on in here.” Mary knew he’d hate being told that they refused to move that way, but he had to understand. They’d stopped for half a day for his wife’s death.

  The captain looked like he wanted to argue, but he walked away, shaking his head instead.

  Mary did little to actually help with birthing the baby, but she and her mother ate the food Margaret brought to them, and then they waited some more. When the baby was finally ready to be born, Ma told Sharon to push, and Sharon laid back, whimpering. “I’m too tired!”

  Ma got down right into Sharon’s face. “You’re not too tired. You have a sacred duty to bring a child into this company. We’ve only had death and injuries so far, but a baby…well, a baby would give us all hope again. Give us hope, Sharon.”

  Mary helped hold Sharon up, while Ma got down between her legs. When the babe slid into her ma’s hands, she gave it a solid thwack on the bottom. “You have a beautiful little boy, Sharon.”

  Sharon was so tired, but she looked at the baby, and her eyes filled with tears. “Peter wanted a boy.”

  “Men always want boys,” Ma said. “I’m going to clean him up, and then we’ll introduce him to his papa. How would that be?”

  Sharon nodded, and Ma told Mary what she needed to do and how she needed to do it. While Sharon lay quietly waiting for them to finish with her, the babe was cleaned and the afterbirth was delivered.

  Mary helped Sharon change into a clean nightgown, and when Peter came to the back of the wagon to peer inside, he saw only his wife, looking as beautiful as ever with a baby in her arms.

  Ma and Mary got down out of the wagon and gave the little family some privacy. “I sure hope someone cooked tonight,” Ma said. “I’m hungry.”

  Mary looked over at her mother, who seemed to be back to her normal self. “I had no idea a birth was so beautiful, Ma. I understand now why you always went when you were needed.”

  “A woman always needs to help the women around her,” Ma said. “I hope you remember that when you’re in Oregon and your neighbor needs help.”

  Those were words she’d always heard from her mother, so it had been strange when her mother had initially refused to help. “I will. Thank you for showing me what to do.”

  Ma nodded, and the two of them followed their noses to the supper Hannah and Margaret had made together. The music was already playing in celebration of stopping early that day. The only one who looked disappointed was the captain, and Ma marched right up to him. “We have a precious new baby boy who was born to this company. I don’t care if your schedule wasn’t followed for one day. You can march us half to death tomorrow to make up for it. But today, we did what needed to be done for that new mama and that baby.” She didn’t wait for the captain to respond, but she walked over to sit with Mary.

  “That’s exactly what he needed to hear, Ma,” Mary said, smiling as she took a bite of the rice and beans that had been prepared. “And we’re having dancing tonight. Maybe you should talk Pa into going out there and dancing with you. It would be good for you.” Mary remembered how much her mother had always loved dancing, and she wanted to see her kicking up her heels again.

  “I’m an old woman now, Mary. I can’t dance.” Her mother shook her head.

  “You were fifteen when I was born, which means you’re only thirty-seven years old. You need to dance with your husband.”

  Ma tilted her head to one side and thought about it. “You know, I may just do that.”

  Mary watched as her mother finished two bowls of beans, and then she checked on her injured children. When she was finished with that, she went straight to her husband, and told him it was time he danced with her. She’d gone on a death march for him, so he could dance for her. It was not even beginning to be a fair trade, but she might be able to forgive him for putting her children in danger if she could enjoy a dance or six.

  Ma was loud enough Mary knew half the camp had heard it, and she was thrilled. It was time for her ma to stand up for herself once and for all.

  Shortly after her parents started dancing, Bob claimed her hand and started spinning her around. When Ma told Mary they needed to calm their fool selves down and stop trying to kill everyone around them, Mary knew that her mother was back again. Gone was the constant grief, and in its place was pleasure with life. Her ma had needed to help that baby be born as much as Sharon had needed to have it.

  They danced later into the night than they should have with having to leave early the following m
orning, but Mary was happy. There was a new child born into the company, and even more importantly, her ma had remembered to live again. No one could take a day of celebration away from them.

  When they started the following morning, Sharon walked with Mary and Hannah, helping them herd all the small children whose mothers couldn’t walk with them. “What did you decide to name him?” Mary asked.

  “Josiah.” Sharon kissed the head of the baby. Mary had helped her fashion a long piece of cloth in order to fasten the baby to her chest, and it made it easier for her to carry him. No new mother wanted to leave her child in a wagon while she walked, and Mary had done the same thing for her mother so she could work around the house more than once.

  The next few days everything felt happier. Most of the ill were feeling better, and Mary’s ma was herself again. Mary was pleased as well, enjoying dancing and taking walks with her husband when the time allowed.

  Hannah and Mary played games with the children every day, because the children were better behaved that way. Sharon walked with them, and even took turns spelling Mary’s ma so she could be out walking as well.

  Riding in the wagons was difficult for anyone because of how bouncy the ride was. Mary happened to know that her ma wanted to lose her breakfast on some of the days, so it was nice when she could get down and walk with the rest of them.

  The Platte River was huge, and the valley it made was a strip of grass for the oxen. They were so happy to have water which made it so they were always able to wash. The weather was getting warmer, and Mary and Bob would sneak away late at night, and they would wash in the river when no one was looking.

  It seemed to Mary that Bob didn’t have a serious bone in his body. He enjoyed playing and lovemaking and dancing. And eating of course. He was always trying to pull Mary away from her duties and get her to go for a walk or a swim, or something that kept her from helping her ma as much as she thought she should.

  Ma seemed to be on Bob’s side. “Go and have fun, Mary. When the babies start coming, there’s less time. Enjoy it while you can.”

  One night after her mother had told her that when she went to help with the dishes, Mary was shaking her head as they left camp. “Ma is determined that I’ll have as many children as she does. I don’t know why she can’t understand that I don’t really want children.” She didn’t understand why her mother was so intent on sending her off to make love with Bob. Did she want to be a grandmother perhaps?

  Bob frowned. “Don’t you think it would be nice for us to have a baby that was half you and half me?”

  Mary shrugged. “Not if it’s a girl.”

  “What do you have against girls?” Bob asked. Sometimes it seemed that Mary didn’t realize she was a girl. She had her musket over her shoulder and was ready to shoot if necessary. She always did.

  “I don’t have anything against girls, but I feel bad for them. Women are expected to work much harder than men are.” It truly wasn’t fair.

  He frowned, looking at her. “What do you mean by that?”

  “Well, think about it. When we’ve talked about homesteading together, the assumption is always that we’ll work side-by-side, and then we’ll go home, and I’ll spend the evening cooking and cleaning. And women never get a say,” Mary continued. “Now that we’re married, if I say I want to move back to Missouri, you have every right to tell me we’re staying in the west, and society expects me to obey your every whim, because I’m a woman. It just doesn’t seem right to me.”

  Bob frowned. “I’ve never really looked at things that way, but I hope you know if you do want something like that, I’m always willing to discuss your feelings and opinions.”

  “I do know that about you, but the thing is if you decide that you want to stay, my opinion no longer matters. Women don’t get to vote, and no one even considers giving women the vote. Why not? Am I not as capable as you to learn about the political issues and decide what I want to see done in my country? Is that such a preposterous idea? I happen to believe I’m an intelligent, thinking person. Why can’t I learn the issues just like you do?”

  “Do women even want to vote?” he asked. “Doesn’t the man vote for the whole family?” He truly didn’t understand her problem with the situation. He wanted to, but she wasn’t making sense to him.

  “Well, think about it. If I like one man for president, and you like another, when you go to vote and represent our family, who will you vote for? You’ll vote for the man you think is best, because you think it’s the right thing to do. What if I feel just as strongly the other man is best? I don’t get to just vote for both of us and make it my opinion. That’s a right reserved for men.” Mary didn’t even know if she wanted to vote, but she felt like the fact that she was a woman shouldn’t keep her from being able to.

  Bob nodded. “I see what you’re saying. I’m going to do my best to always care about your opinions, and if you want a girl to be able to work on the farm, I am more than fine with that. I’m even fine with teaching boys to cook and do dishes. We will raise all of our children to be able to do everything whether they are boys or girls.” Bob was sure that would make her feel better. Why wouldn’t it? It seemed to be exactly what she wanted.

  “And if we do that, when we send them out into the world, will they have unrealistic expectations? They’ll go around thinking they can do anything men can do, and society will tell them differently. That’s not fair to them, because they’ll have a form of freedom that will be quickly taken from them no matter what they do.”

  Bob stopped walking and turned to Mary. “So, what is your answer to the dilemma? Everything I suggest you don’t like, but there has to be an answer that will make girls feel equal.”

  Mary sighed. “I don’t have an answer. I want to, but nothing really makes sense to me. I want a girl to experience freedom, but when she marries all that freedom will be taken from her. Now you understand why I was against marrying. I wanted the freedom to stay with me, and I didn’t want to have to become subservient to a man. Do you realize that if Captain Bedwell had listened to his wife when she told him she wasn’t well, she never would have died? He might as well have pulled the trigger and killed her himself. She died a horrific death because he was determined to make her be strong.”

  Bob nodded. He didn’t like admitting it, but his pretty little wife was right. Life wasn’t fair for women, and he had no idea what he could do about it, if anything.

  Nine

  Friday April 30th, 1852

  We’re still on the Platte River and plan to be for a good long while. The company seems to finally be well for a while, and no more people have died since Sunday. That doesn’t seem like long, but on the Trail deaths have occurred often.

  Captain Bedwell made us walk early and late every day this week to make up for stopping for Sharon Claven to give birth to little Josiah, but we don’t care. We still think stopping that day was the right thing to do.

  It doesn’t matter that the days are longer when we see the baby’s big blue eyes peering at us. It does help that I’m often able to get meat for supper while we are walking. Most days I can anyway.

  Hannah and I enjoy our time with the children, and now that Sharon is joining us most days, it is even more fun for us. I think it disturbs the captain when we laugh and have fun, because he is so miserable himself.

  It’s odd to think we all wanted him as captain because we knew he would push us hard, but now that he’s pushing us hard, we think there could be someone better for the job. It just goes to show that you don’t always want what you think you want.

  Mary was ready for their day of rest. The men had all been asked to vote as to whether they wanted to drive two hours extra every day for the rest of the week, or to give up our Sabbath. All voted to go extra, and Bob kindly asked Mary’s opinion before he placed his vote. The two of them agreed on what to do, so it was quite easy for him to vote the way she asked him. She still couldn’t trust him to always vote the way she would want, because
she knew it wasn’t possible for them to agree about everything.

  The longer days were much harder for some, but Mary knew she’d be the same kind of sore every day regardless. It truly didn’t matter to her.

  Her mother was taking over more of her chores every day, and she was even asking some of her younger brothers to help with the dishes, which her father was angry about most of the time. “Mary should be helping you with dishes. She’s a girl.”

  “And I want my boys to be able to do women’s chores and my girls to do men’s chores. Mary is doing a great job of keeping the company supplied with food, and no one is complaining about that, but she’s still expected to do women’s work all day every day. You want me to go with you to Oregon, then you will provide me with the help I need, even if that means asking your precious sons to do some of the work.”

  “What has gotten into you?” Pa asked.

  “I see the error of my ways finally. It’s not my job to kowtow to you and do everything you say with no argument. My girls need to know that they have a say in this world, and I mean the little ones too. Not just Mary. Mary has come with us, she has helped with the children, helped with the cooking, the dishes, and the laundry. She has brought in half the meat, and she has married at your command. Do you really think that your other daughters should feel the need to only do women’s work? Mary is doing more than her share with just supplying food. You will let her have some free time with her new husband, and the boys will help with the dishes.”

  Pa stared at her for a moment, looking angry, but he finally threw his hands in the air and walked away, and when Mary’s eyes met Bob’s, she could see that he approved of her mother standing up to her father. That was one thing that never changed about Bob. He was in her corner every minute of every day.

  After supper that night, they took a blanket and went outside of the circle of wagons, planning to sleep under the stars. They took a bar of soap down to the river and bathed each other slowly, enjoying the opportunity to touch one another. Mary wasn’t sure why her mother had never told her about the wonderful joy that came with lovemaking, but she had a feeling it was because she didn’t feel the same spark with her father. How could she? The man didn’t care one whit about how his wife felt about most things.