Annie: A Bride For The Farmhand - A Clean Historical Western Romance (Stewart House Brides Book 3)

by Charity Phillips

  "Carrie, you know that I love you. Leaving you is the hardest thing that I will have to do."

  Carrie leaned forward and gathered Elizabeth in a hug. Even so young, there were moments when Carrie showed such grace and maturity that it made Elizabeth feel like she was the older sister.

  "I know," Carrie said, "I love you, too. I am very happy for you."

  "You are?"

  "Of course I am. You have always done everything to make sure that life was happy for me. You deserve to have a wonderful life, too, and if that means that you have to leave Haywood, then that is what you should do."

  "We will write all the time, and maybe you can come visit."

  Carrie pulled back from the hug and looked at Elizabeth with an excited expression.

  "That's right! The wagon trip would be much easier now that I could walk some of the way rather than having to ride."

  Elizabeth smiled. Knowing that Carrie was going to be alright made the thought of leaving much easier. Now all she had to do was handle the rest of the preparations and they could be on their way to their new life.

  ****

  Dear Diary,

  I cannot believe I am yet again preparing to leave for California. It has been more than three years since the last time I went on this journey, yet I can remember it so clearly. I remember the sense of excitement and anticipation that filled the home as we put all of the last minute details into place to make sure we were ready to leave well before the sun came up. My mother and I stayed up after everyone else had gone to bed to finish packing meals for the beginning of the trip.

  Those are some of the hours that I felt closest to my mother in my life. We spent that time talking about the years that we spent in Haywood and what we saw for the future. She shared more with me that night about her youth, her courtship with my father, and her marriage than she ever has, and while we prepared trays of biscuits, wrapped the last of the year's cheese in paper, and tucked potatoes down in the coals of the oven to bake for our trip, I felt like she was in her own quiet way preparing me for the life that I would someday lead.

  I am leading that life now, Diary, and just like then, my mother was right here with me to help me along. My family visited last night to have one more supper with us before our trip. After we ate, my father helped Ben pack tools, trunks, and supplies into the back of the wagon and then brought Maggie home to tuck her into bed. I had not cried for the entire night until I kissed my littlest sister on the forehead and realized that when she awoke, I would be gone and it might be a very long time before I saw her again. I hoped that she would be able to understand.

  Carrie and my mother helped me fold up the quilts and tuck away the last of the clothing we would bring along with us, I had one final tearful goodbye with Carrie, and then again, I was alone with my mother. I worried that she should be at home getting as much sleep as she could, but she told me that the baby gave her such bad heartburn at night that she was often up walking around until the very wee hours of the morning. Anyhow, it was nice to be able to spend those hours with her rather than just being at home pacing the floor alone and trying not to wake up the rest of the family.

  I realized right then how much I admire my mother. She has been the best example of what a woman should be to me and I pray that I will be able to emulate her as a wife and someday, God willing, a mother. She is so strong and yet so gentle. Taking care of my father and raising us has been everything to her, and she has done it with such grace, humility, and confidence.

  As we stood in the kitchen, I found myself looking around my home, my first home with my husband, and realizing that very soon it would no longer be my home. We had sold the house and nearly all of the furnishings inside in the days leading up to the trip with the understanding that the new owner could come and take over after we had left on our journey. Though I knew that we did not need the house or what was inside it because we intended to stay in California for at least the foreseeable future, and the money that we got from it would be enough to carry us through our journey and the first few weeks of living in our new town, the sale had seemed so painfully final.

  I had not shared those feelings with Ben, but I shared them with my mother. I felt guilty for being resistant and for feeling such attachment to worldly possessions, for shoring up my treasures here on Earth. She assured me that she understood exactly how I felt, but that I had no reason to feel guilty. It was not the items themselves that mattered to me, but the memories and the meaning that they held. That house is where I spent my first months as Ben's wife and those furnishings were how I created it into a home for him. Selling them, as practical and necessary as it was, felt almost like I was selling those little slivers of me.

  The time passed much more quickly this time than it seemed to when I was preparing for my first trip to California. Before I knew it, we had put the picnic basket at Ben's feet in the front of the wagon and I was hugging my mother goodbye. There was a much greater sense of excitement this time than there was the first. Though I will miss my family dearly, knowing that I am traveling with Ben so that we can build a life together makes this so much more of an adventure.

  I am writing now by the first rays of sunlight that are just coming over the horizon. We are going to meet two other couples that are traveling in the same direction so that we can journey together. It is not like the wagon train that my family joined during our first trip. It will only be our three wagons doing our best to work together to get to California safely. The exhaustion of all of the preparations has begun to set in now. Ben built a pallet for me in the back of the wagon with some of the quilts and pillows that I brought. I think that I will lay down for a while and rest before we stop for our noon meal.

  There is so much awaiting us, and now that we are finally truly on our way, I know for certain that this is the path that God has chosen for us. He has something great planned for us in California and it is up to us to be faithful to Him and follow so that we may find it. I know that there are challenges and obstacles ahead of us on that path, but with Ben by my side and my hand in his, I know that we can overcome anything.

  --Elizabeth

  ****

  Ben and Elizabeth had been traveling for just over a month, and they were beginning to feel that they were falling into the pattern of the journey. The three couples had formed first an alliance born out of necessity, the need to rely on each other and trust that each person within the group would do his or her part to make sure that things went smoothly and safely forming them into a group. Then came friendship crafted from learning to lean on each other and time spent laughing, sharing, and experiencing the journey together.

  Finally came a bond so close, it was almost as if they had created another family out on their journey, forming a tight network among the six of them that would linger with them for the rest of their lives. Elizabeth first felt this bond in its full intensity just six weeks into their journey, and it was something that she would never forget.

  "Are you nearly ready to stop for lunch?" Gregory called from the lead wagon.

  Each of the families took turns being the front wagon while the others came up behind. For the most part, the women walked alongside the wagons while the men drove the teams, and that is how it was that afternoon as they made their way along a section of the road just a few miles away from a town. Noon had already passed, but they had been determined to make up for time lost during a tremendous rainstorm the day before and wanted to keep pushing as hard as they could. They and the animals were tired, though, and it was time to stop.

  "Sure," Ben said. "We can pull up here and stop for a bit. The weather is looking good for the rest of the day's travel."

  They stopped the wagons in a small, irregular circle as they usually did and the women went to work pulling out their pots and food so they could prepare the meal. This was one of the processes that they had mastered within a short time of the beginning of the journey. Sharing their resources amongst the group, the women would create
meals that had a bit of influence from each of their backgrounds. The results were delicious, unique dishes that kept them satisfied and strong.

  As the women cooked, the men unfastened the animals from the wagons so that they could roam and eat their own lunches out of the weeds and grasses of the prairie. Gregory brought out a large wash bucket and poured water they had gathered in jugs at the last river. They always made sure they kept one for the travelers to drink in between creeks and one for the animals to make sure that they stayed as healthy as possible. It was something that Elizabeth didn't remember doing on their last journey to California, and it made her wonder if there would have been less illness and struggle if they had.

  Elizabeth was kneeling at the side of the fire pit, encouraging the newborn embers to ignite into a flame powerful enough to heat their meal when she saw a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye. She knew that both of the other women were on the other side of her, still gathering supplies from the wagons, and that the men were several yards away tending to the animals. She looked up sharply and saw three black horses on the top of a ridge, their riders staring down at her.

  Elizabeth sat back on her heels and was standing up when the riders suddenly dug their heels into the sides of their animals and came bounding toward her, shouting and hollering at the tops of their lungs. What ensued was pure chaos.

  The women screamed and scattered, trying to find places to hide from the fearsome men descending on their tiny makeshift camp. The men came running back, shouting nearly as loudly as the bandits and elevating the noise to a level so intense, it felt like it was rippling through Elizabeth's veins and pounding dangerously in her ears. As they got closer, she could see that the men had cloths pulled over the bottom halves of their faces and their hats were pushed down low over their brows, creating the shadowy impression that they had nearly no faces.

  One lifted a gun into the air and shot, eliciting more screams from the women. The three men jumped down from their horses, and Elizabeth turned to run toward her and Ben's wagon. Within the time it took for her to take the three long strides that brought her to the front of the wagon, she heard three more gunshots and two strangled screams followed by a gasp.

  Elizabeth scrambled onto the bench at the front of the wagon and reached into the back. Her fingers wrapped around the smooth steel of Ben's rifle and she pulled it up. Turning back to the scene unfolding at their camp, she saw Stephen on the ground and Ben leaned against one of the other wagons, his hand pressed hard to his hip as he tried to right himself. Gregory came up behind the men and bashed one of them in the back of the head with the butt of his rifle, swiftly turning to strike the other across the face.

  The third men reached for the gun on his hip, and before Elizabeth could think, she pulled the trigger. There was a massive lurch from the gun, causing the butt to hit her in the shoulder painfully. Smoke rose from the end and she looked through the haze to see the third man reel back, meet her eyes, and then crumple to the ground. The gun fell from her fingers, hitting the ground, though she couldn't hear it through the sudden deafening rush of her own blood in her ears.

  It was as if the world was closing in around her. She couldn't hear anything. Movements in front of her were in slow motion as the second bandit, the only one still standing, looked at his fallen comrades and jumped back onto his horse, pushing him to run into the distance. The first bandit shifted on the ground, slowly regaining consciousness.

  Sarah was screaming. Elizabeth could see that her mouth was open, but could only faintly detect the sound. She closed her eyes and felt herself falling forward. In an instant, she hit a pair of strong arms and the world became clear again.

  "Elizabeth!" Gregory's voice yelled at her through the emotions swirling through her, "are you alright?" She didn't respond immediately and he shook her. "Are you alright?" he repeated.

  Elizabeth opened her eyes to look up at him and nodded. He lowered her to the ground and turned back to Sarah, who was kneeling on the ground beside her husband. Elizabeth took a step forward and saw blood seeping from Stephen's back and mixing into the dirt on the ground beneath him.

  Suddenly she could think of nothing but Ben. She ran toward him, dropping to her knees in front of him to get a closer look at the wound he was clutching. Blood stained his shirt and pants, but when she pulled back the tattered, singed fabric, she saw that there was no hole where a bullet had entered. Instead, there was a gash across his hipbone where the bullet had grazed across, opening the skin but leaving the bone intact.

  "Thank you, God," she whispered. "Thank you for sparing Ben."

  "We need to get the wound clean," Gregory said.

  Elizabeth nodded and allowed him to step past her so that he could wrap an arm around Ben and guide him to lie down. She heard a shuffling sound and turned to see the first bandit climbing unsteadily to his feet. She crawled a few feet to the side and grabbed Ben's gun from where it had dropped, never taking her eyes off of the bandit.

  His hand reached briefly for his gun, and Elizabeth lifted the rifle and aimed it at him, the confident way she held it belying the fear and horror she felt. The bandit's hand dropped and he climbed up on his horse, giving only a fleeting final glance to the dead bandit in the dirt before he rode off in the same direction as the other man.

  Elizabeth waited until she could no longer see him before dropping the gun again and scrambling away from it. She could hear Sarah's screams fully now, mixed with Angela's sobbing as she tried to soothe and comfort her. Elizabeth crawled back to Ben's side and held his hand as Gregory poured another jug of water over the gash.

  The wound was on the same side that his burn had been, and Elizabeth could see him wincing and writhing in pain as the water spread blood across his still-tender scar. Tears poured down Elizabeth's cheeks, but she continued to hold his hand tightly, looking down into his face and hoping that somehow, he could find strength and comfort in her eyes.

  Gregory carefully dried the area around the gash and then reached into a small pot he had drawn from his wagon and smeared the gash and the surrounding area with a thick, sticky-looking substance.

  "What is that?" Elizabeth asked nervously.

  "It's honey," Gregory answered, smearing a small amount more on Ben's skin and then wrapping the wound with strips of linen the women had just torn two days before to stock their meager medical kit.

  "Honey?" Elizabeth asked.

  "Yes. My mother was a midwife. She knew natural remedies for everything, and she taught me that honey is the best thing for a cut or a burn. It seals up the skin and keeps the infection out. We just have to keep it covered well so that the bugs don't get to him and add more honey to it every day or two until it heals up. He's going to be in a lot of pain for a while."

  "I'll be fine," Ben said, trying to sit up but getting a pained expression on his face and dropping back down.

  "With the position of that wound, he won't be able to sit on the bench to drive the team for at least a week. The best thing we can do for him is give him a few good swigs of sleeping tonic and let him rest in the back of the wagon."

  "Who is going to drive the team?" Ben asked.

  "I will," Elizabeth said without hesitation.

  "You can't," Ben said, sounding strained and terrified.

  "Of course I can. I watched my father do it on our first trip and I have been watching you for six weeks now. I might not be as skilled as either of you, but I know that I can do it. You have to let me try. We really don't have any other option."

  Ben nodded and Elizabeth smiled at him, stroking his cheek soothingly. Fear ran through her, but she refused to show it in her eyes. She sent up a desperate prayer for guidance, strength, and courage. She had vowed her help and obedience to Ben in good times and in bad, and now was her chance to prove herself.

  ****

  Dear Diary,

  My hands hurt so much, I do not know how much I will be able to write tonight. The clouds have covered the moon and it is too h
umid to sit by the fire, giving me almost no light to write by, so it is just as well. Driving the team is so much more difficult than I could have imagined. I am trying as hard as I can to handle this the way I think Mama would; quietly, calmly, and with unending faith.

  We crossed a river today and it was so terrifying, I do not think that I will ever be able to swim again. The ferry operator would not let us board because I was driving rather than Ben, and I did not want to wake him, so I made the decision to attempt to cross it on my own. Everything seemed fine for the first few moments, but suddenly the wagon dipped. The animals hit a section of the bottom of the river that was unstable and stumbled deeper, causing the wagon to tip almost onto its side. The water was so cold as it rushed over my legs and I could only imagine the horrible awakening it caused for Ben as it surged into the wagon.

  I do not know if I have ever cried out to God with the intensity that I did then. I pled for strength enough to control the animals and to keep the wagon straight. After what felt like it could have been hours, but was likely only a few minutes, my prayers were answered and the wagon straightened. The oxen regained their footing and we pulled up onto the bank on the other side. We had taken the horse that belonged to the dead bandit along with us and I was so thankful Gregory had suggested I loosen him from the back of the wagon so that he could swim across the water himself. I know that if I had not, he would have drowned in the river and would have likely pulled the wagon down with him.

  Even worse than the pain in my hands from the reins, though, is the pain in my heart. I have lost two dear friends and I know that I will never see either again. Though the bandits that attacked us two weeks ago did not take any money or possessions, they did take Stephen's life, and with it, Sarah's will to go on. Gregory and Angela offered for her to bring some of her possessions and ride in their wagon, but she refused. She said she could not imagine continuing on the journey without Stephen.