Baby on the Oregon Trail

by Lynna Banning

  Jenna was so tired she no longer knew where her shoes ended and the ground began. Her arches burned. Her lips burned. Even her eyelids burned. She had allowed herself one swallow of water that morning, but she had begun to wonder how long she could last in this heat without another. She smoothed one hand over her belly.

  Tess and Mary Grace were so parched they had stopped arguing about Jimmy Gumpert. Ruthie lay on a pallet in the back of the wagon, a dampened cloth over her flushed face.

  Lee climbed down from the bench and walked up to the head of the line of wagons where the Sioux warriors had now regathered. He raised his right hand and addressed the feather-bedecked chief.

  “How much farther to water?”

  “Two day,” the Indian replied. “Maybe three.”

  Lee stared at him. They could not last three more days without water. Two, maybe, but the animals were already suffering. If the oxen collapsed...

  He couldn’t let himself think about it. When he returned to camp and relayed the news to Jenna, she shook her head in disbelief. “Can we manage for two more days?”

  “Maybe. How much is left in the water barrel?”

  “Only about two cups. I have been very careful with it, Lee, but there are five of us, counting you. We are all thirsty, and the oxen are, too. And I know your horse needs water.”

  “Try to ration it out, a swallow for each of us in the morning and another at night. That might get us through the next two days. After that we better pray for a thundershower.”

  “I have been praying,” she said, her voice dull.

  “Keep it up. It’s all we can do.”

  They ate leftover biscuits for their meal, though no one was hungry and their throats were so dry swallowing was difficult. They rested for an hour, and then once more wagons rolled off across the prairie.

  The Sioux led the way, riding slowly some yards ahead of the wagon master. Lee said they had no choice but to trust the Indians to lead the train to water, but her spine prickled all the same. She trusted Lee’s judgment, but after all the horrible stories she’d heard, she didn’t trust Indians.

  Sue and Sunflower plodded forward, and the girls and Jenna tried hard to keep up. Jimmy Gumpert walked between Tess and Mary Grace, but Jenna could not hear their conversation, if there was any, over the noise of the wheels. Her own throat was so dry it was difficult to talk, and she imagined the three youngsters were no better off.

  Surreptitiously she watched Lee on the driver’s bench, looking into the sun, his wide-brimmed gray hat pulled low. Ruthie perched beside him, her floppy yellow sun hat covering her face. Usually she chattered away to him, but today she was uncharacteristically silent. The child was thirsty. God knew they were all thirsty.

  Ruthie leaned her head against Lee’s side, and he curved one arm around her so she wouldn’t tumble off if she fell asleep. He kept his gaze on the oxen he was driving, his mouth pressed into a straight line, his jaw muscle working.

  He was a good man, Jenna thought. She knew he was distrusted, even disliked, by others in the train, but he steadfastly did what he thought was right. Even her two contentious older girls were beginning to like him. Sam had been right about him.

  That night at supper she opened the last jar of peaches and portioned out the juice. At least it was liquid, she thought as she gulped down her share. The girls were so exhausted they went to bed before it was fully dark without a single objection and no request for another chapter about King Arthur.

  Jenna wiped the last of the tin plates, pulled her gingham apron off over her head and prepared to crawl under the wagon, but Lee stopped her with a hand on her arm.

  “Give me your quilt, Jenna.”

  “My quilt? But why?”

  “I want to try something we did in the army.”

  Too tired to question him, she handed it over. On the dry grass a few feet away from the wagon he spread out his own blanket next to her quilt and stood studying them for a long minute. Then he turned away and motioned for her to crawl under the wagon.

  She rolled herself up in her remaining quilt, curled her body over her expanding belly and was asleep in an instant. All night she dreamed of sparkling waterfalls, springs that bubbled into cool flowing streams, and sarsaparilla sodas at the candy shop back in Roseville.

  Before dawn, Lee jostled her awake. “Wake the girls. The blankets I spread out are covered with dew.”

  Her tongue was so swollen she could scarcely speak, but she did as he asked. Lee dragged the wet blankets into camp, and they squeezed enough moisture from the wet wool to add another half-mouthful each to their morning ration of water. He gave what was left over to the oxen and wrapped the damp quilt around Devil’s muzzle.

  They ate a scanty breakfast of cold corn bread and then set off to face another day of God knew what following the Sioux braves riding ahead of the train. As she walked, she did some hard praying. Surely God must be weary of the word water.

  By midmorning she was dizzy, and with every step her temples pounded as if a blacksmith’s hammer were beating at them. Just when she thought she could not walk one step farther, Lee pulled the team to a stop. Behind them, Mick McKernan shook his fist and shouted.

  “Get a move on, Carver. Yer holdin’ up the line!”

  Lee ignored him, climbed off the bench and scooped Jenna up in his arms. “Sit beside me or lie in the wagon—what’ll it be?”

  “I am all right,” she whispered. “I can walk. Besides, Dr. Engelman said—”

  “You cannot walk,” he rasped. “Not in this heat. You’re staggering like a drunken...” he shot a look at the McKernan wagon close behind “...Irishman.”

  “Maybe one of the girls should ride?”

  He shook his head. “Neither of them is carrying a baby, Jenna. Choose. Me or the wagon.”

  She looked at the wagon and then back to him. “You.”

  He set her on her feet, climbed back up onto the bench and reached down to lift her up next to Ruthie. With a soft cry the child tipped over onto her lap.

  A whip cracked behind them. Lee considered descending once more to confront McKernan, then decided against it. He hadn’t strength enough for a fight. They would all die if they didn’t reach water soon. Every minute counted. He’d save his business with Mick for later.

  He lifted the traces, and the wagon rolled forward. He concentrated on the sound of the wheels crunching over the dry grass, trying not to think about Jenna’s unborn baby’s need for water. He knew Jenna was thinking about the same thing; the expression in her eyes was distant. Unfocused. Idly she combed her fingers through Ruthie’s blond curls.

  Suddenly Sue and then Sunflower raised their heads and Devil gave a soft whuffle. Had they smelled water?

  Unaccountably the oxen picked up their pace, and Lee began to notice the grass, still bent over but now more gray than brown. The team tugged hard against the reins, and before another two miles passed the grass began to turn yellow green. He craned his head to see ahead.

  Cottonwood trees! Green leaves and even greener grass. “Jenna, look!”

  She lifted her drooping head and stared.

  “Has to be water,” he said. “Can’t hold the team back.”

  She started to cry. “Oh, Lee.”

  “Hell, Jenna, don’t cry.”

  “I c-can’t help it. I am so thankful. I will never again think ill of an Indian.”

  “Probably more than one tribe knows about this water source. Let’s hope we don’t run head-on into a war between the Sioux and the Crow.”

  They wheeled around another curve and there it was, a clear stream fed by water bubbling from a surrounding rock wall. The oxen lunged forward.

  The wagon train halted. Men scrambled to unhitch mule teams and let the animals drink, then scooped up containers for their own use. Lee unyok
ed Sue and Sunflower and led them off to drink, then returned for Devil.

  Tess and Jimmy bolted off with buckets in their hands. “It’s even cold!” Tess exulted when they staggered back into camp. She dipped up a tin cup for Ruthie, then another for Mary Grace.

  Jenna had to find her own cup, but she was so grateful for the water she gave thanks before she swallowed a drop. After her first cup, she resisted the urge to unbutton her dress and pour the cold liquid down between her breasts.

  When Lee returned, she scooped her cup full of cold, clear water and held it out to him. He drained it, threw his head back and closed his eyes.

  “And on the seventh day,” he pronounced, “God did not rest. He created water!”

  The girls joined hands and did an odd bouncy dance around the camp. Lee brought his hands to Jenna’s expanding waist and swung her around and around in a tight circle.

  “Do you have any whiskey?” he asked.

  Giddy with relief, she laughed aloud. “Yes, I do have whiskey. Medicinal, of course.”

  “Whiskey is whiskey. I’ll buy you another bottle when we reach Fort Caspar.”

  By suppertime the Sioux warriors had ridden off with two of Ted Zaberskie’s fattest cows, and Jenna was half-intoxicated on her medicinal whiskey. Tess finished cutting up the potatoes and dried venison for the stew, and Mary Grace rolled out the biscuits following Jenna’s instructions.

  Lee watched her from across the campfire. Ruthie was perched on his knee, playing with the doll he’d whittled for her. Sam walked into camp to announce that the wagons would hold over an extra day so the women could bathe and do laundry.

  Lee had his own idea about tomorrow. He planned to teach Tess to ride Devil. He’d come up with a plan that made him smile.

  After supper he had another shot of Jenna’s whiskey while she and Mary Grace washed up the tin plates. He couldn’t wait for darkness when he could crawl onto his pallet under the wagon and lie next to Jenna.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Jenna took a towel and some soap and carefully walked down to a sequestered part of the stream for a quick bath. The girls could bathe in the morning, but she could not stand herself one more minute; her skin was sweat-sticky and caked with dust and grime, and her hair—mercy! It was stiff with dirt. Quickly she unbraided the fancy French twist she hadn’t brushed out in three days and dunked her head under the water.

  She soaped and rinsed her hair twice, then waded out to the deepest part of the stream and dove in. As she dried off, she studied her discarded garments. Tomorrow she would wash everything, the girls’ pinafores and underclothes and her own blue homespun dress and petticoat. But tonight she could not stand to put on her filthy dress again. She would sleep in just her camisole and petticoat. Lee would never know; as exhausted as he was, and with a good deal of whiskey inside him, he would be asleep before she returned.

  Back in camp she scooted quickly under the wagon and pulled the quilt over her body, but immediately felt the covering lift away. She gave a small scream and snatched at it, then heard Lee’s soft laugh. He wasn’t asleep!

  “Damn, you smell good.”

  “You would, too, if you’d had a bath.”

  “Matter of fact I did,” he said. “Not as long as yours, maybe, but I bet I’m just as clean.”

  “You left the girls in camp alone?” she accused.

  “Just long enough to bring a bucket of water from the stream and—”

  “You watched me!”

  “No, I did not. I wanted to, but like you say, I couldn’t leave the girls in camp alone.”

  She flounced over onto her side and snugged the quilt up to her chin. Again he tugged it away, snaked his arm around her middle and pulled her back against his chest.

  She didn’t move. She liked the feel of his hard, warm body at her back.

  “Definitely not.” He pushed her loose hair aside and pressed his lips just behind her ear. A jolt of something hot and sweet shimmered all the way down her spine to her bare toes.

  She opened her mouth to protest but just then someone started playing a guitar. Oh, Lord, it was Jimmy Gumpert, serenading the girls. Jenna recognized the song. “Down in the Valley.” A young, uncertain male voice began to sing.

  “Down in the valley, valley so low...”

  Lee gently kissed her neck. “Looks like the Gumpert boy has come courting. Poor lovesick kid,” he murmured.

  Jenna smiled into the dark. “Is he singing to Mary Grace or Tess, I wonder?”

  “Could be he’s not sure.”

  “What? How could he not know?”

  “Young men often don’t know their own minds. Or,” he continued, his voice slow and lazy-sounding, “maybe he’s waiting for some sign of encouragement. A man can get discouraged.”

  “Encouragement? What kind of encouragement?”

  “A smile once in a while. Or a soft word. Or...”

  “He must not even think of kissing Tess or Mary Grace,” she said quickly. “Lee, you have to talk to the boy.”

  “He’s thinking about it already,” he said with a chuckle. “He’s probably been thinking about it for days.” He rolled her over to face him, then laid his hand on her shoulder.

  “Lee...” She pushed at him.

  “Don’t stop me, Jenna. Not tonight.” He leaned toward her until his mouth grazed hers. “Tonight I’m feeling that life is good. We have water. And food. A good wagon and strong oxen. And we have this.”

  He kissed her again, a long, lingering kiss that had her heart thundering beneath her camisole.

  “There is something happening between us, Jenna. Let’s not waste it.”

  “Lee, stop.”

  “I will if you really want me to. I don’t think you do.”

  Jenna drew in a shaky breath. “I—I don’t know what I want.”

  He drew her into his arms and pressed her head against his shoulder. “I think you want me, Jenna.”

  “Lee, be sensible. I am five months pregnant. Almost six.” She pushed forward so her belly touched his middle.

  He smoothed his hand over the swelling. His touch sent a shiver through her.

  “I know you’re pregnant, Jenna. It makes no difference.”

  “Oh, it must make a difference. I know what I look like. Why would a man want a swollen, misshapen woman who is carrying someone else’s child?”

  He waited a long moment before answering. “Because it isn’t your body that’s pulling me.” He settled his mouth on hers, and when she gave a little moan he rimmed her lips with his tongue and deepened the kiss.

  Her heart kicked. She had never been kissed like this! Certainly not by Mathias, and not even when she was younger, before she married. His lips moved over hers, and her breathing slowed. Her nipples swelled and felt hot and tingly.

  His tongue slipped into her mouth. Without conscious thought she slid one hand around his neck and felt his fingers thread through her damp hair and caress the back of her neck.

  “Jenna?” he said, his voice rough. “Jenna, why are you crying?”

  “Am I? I hadn’t realized I was. I think... I think it’s because, oh, this is crazy.”

  “What is? What do you think is crazy?”

  “The fact that I’m crying, and it’s because I like kissing you.”

  “And that makes you cry?” he murmured. He brushed tears off her cheeks with his thumbs. “Why?”

  “Because.” She sucked in a gulp of air. “It shows me how much I have missed.” She buried her face against his neck while he lightly rubbed his hand in large circles on her back.

  “I have never felt so foolish,” she confessed. “I’m acting like a girl who is no more grown-up than Tess.” She lifted her head as a thought struck her. “Oh, I do hope someday she will like being kissed.�
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  “But not yet,” Lee said. He settled beside her, pressed her head against his shoulder and laid his hand over the mound of her belly. Something rippled under his palm and he shot upright.

  “The baby,” Jenna explained with a laugh. “He likes to dance at night.”

  Gingerly Lee replaced his hand. Goodness, a Virginia reel was fluttering under his fingers. He resisted the urge to touch the area with his lips.

  “Do you think kissing gets him excited?” he asked softly.

  “Probably. Remember after the dance at the Zaberskies’? When you touched me? He jumped around so much that night I scarcely slept.”

  “Tonight might be worse,” he said with a gentle laugh. “We could keep your baby dancing right up to the day you deliver.”

  “Mmmm-hmmmm,” she murmured sleepily.

  “Is that a yes or a no?”

  She didn’t respond, so he answered his own question. It didn’t matter if it was a no. He drove her wagon every day. She slept beside him every night. After the War, he’d lost everything, including his faith, but only an idiot would not give thanks for this.

  * * *

  After breakfast, Lee drew Tess aside and proposed his idea. “How would you like to pop Jimmy Gumpert’s eyes out?”

  “Huh?” she scoffed. “How am I gonna do that? I’m scared of guns.”

  “It’s not a gun I have in mind to impress young Jimmy. It’s a horse.”

  Her hazel eyes went wide. “Oh, no, not Devil. Why would I want to get anywhere near that big mean animal?” Nervously she slapped the dish towel at the water bucket.

  “I’ll tell you why. A man admires a pretty girl on a horse.”

  Her mouth formed a big O. “You think I’m pretty? Really?”

  “You are when you smile,” Lee said carefully. “Seated on a handsome horse, you could knock Jimmy’s socks off.”

  “His socks? Why would I want his socks?”

  Lee hid a smile. “It’s just an expression, Tess, for when you impress someone. Jimmy, for instance.”

  Now he had her attention. He almost laughed at the eager look on her face.