Wagon Train Reunion (Journey West)

by Linda Ford

  “There have been rumblings about items lost or stolen,” Miles pointed out.

  James looked thoughtful. “Could be our culprit isn’t happy with the money from the robbery. If we could catch him in the act it would give us a reason to search his wagon.” He looked around the circle of men. “We need to be more vigilant in watching without raising suspicions, it might allow us to find this person. Perhaps if we all took turns walking about after we stop. Keeping it innocent looking, of course. ”

  One of the men said he’d take his young sons out for a walk. Another said he’d welcome a chance to stretch his legs after riding on the wagon all day. “But I don’t want to draw attention to myself.”

  “Why not ask your neighbor to walk with you?” James suggested.

  Miles turned to Ben. “You’ve got the perfect arrangement.”

  Ben stared at the man. He wasn’t sure his sisters would want to walk with him. Seems they deserved time to spend as they liked.

  Miles continued. “Ask Mrs. Black to walk with you. Can you think of a better reason than to be courting a pretty young woman?”

  Ben’s mouth fell open. Courting? He couldn’t pretend something he wanted to avoid at all costs.

  “Why that’s perfect,” James said. “You’ll do it?”

  “Of course he will.” Miles clapped him on the back.

  Ben managed to close his mouth and nod, feeling very much like he’d been railroaded into something he didn’t want to do. Yet he couldn’t deny a certain anticipation.

  That night he returned to their camp with his thoughts tangled on a dozen different things. The crossing was going well. They’d soon be on their way again. A walk about the camp would enable him to watch young Pressman. And if it meant spending time with Abby, it was for a good cause.

  Shouldn’t he be a little more concerned about taking this step?

  Yet he wasn’t. He could do it and still guard his heart, he assured himself.

  The women worked together over the fire—with the exception of Mrs. Bingham who perched in her chair waiting to be served. The way Abby laughed with the others brought his gaze to her often. As he’d observed earlier, she had adjusted to the rugged life in a way that belied her upbringing.

  “Abigail.” Her mother’s voice edged with disapproval. “I’m waiting for my tea.”

  Abby hurried to her mother’s side with a cup of tea. A china cup and saucer. How long before it got broken or chipped? Would Mrs. Bingham blame Abby?

  The other women exchanged sympathetic looks as if they felt sorry for Abby having to wait on her mother. Or—he saw with startling clarity—it was more than that. Waiting on a parent who needed it would be perfectly natural. But Mrs. Bingham seemed perfectly healthy and moreover, she was demanding and ungrateful.

  Perhaps Abby would welcome an excuse to escape her mother in favor of accompanying him on a walk after supper. But what could he use as an enticement? He wasn’t ready to risk her saying no by simply asking her to walk with him. He needed a reason.

  He mulled over the possibilities as he ate supper. Beans, bacon and biscuits again. Sam had mentioned the possibility of encountering buffalo and Ben looked forward to the promise of fresh meat.

  The meal ended and the women did dishes. Sally put Johnny down for the night. A sense of peace settled over the others.

  But for Ben, his tension increased. He’d yet to find a way to invite Abby to join him. But the committeemen had agreed to keep a closer eye on the goings-on of the camp. Ben planned to walk around the circle with a particular interest in Clarence Pressman’s activities.

  He could no longer neglect his duties and pushed to his feet. “I thought I’d stroll about the wagons and see how everyone is faring. Anyone want to accompany me?” Before either of his sisters could offer, he looked directly at Abby. “Would you care to come?” He spoke casually as if he asked out of courtesy, and not because he wanted it so bad he could barely get the words out.

  Perhaps she’d refuse. He half hoped she would.

  Yet he held his breath waiting for her answer.

  Chapter Thirteen

  He asked her to walk with him? Abby couldn’t think what it meant. Perhaps only a desire for company. Or maybe he thought she wanted to see how the others were doing though Emma had said the measles outbreak had subsided. Only two new cases in the past two days, and those who had it were well on their way to recovery, without any of the dreaded side effects.

  Emma still accepted her help with the sick travelers. Except for Clarence Pressman. “He’s embarrassed about his accident,” Emma had explained. “I promised him I would treat him alone.” It seemed a little strange, yet under the circumstances strange things became ordinary and ordinary things impossible.

  Thinking that helped her make up her mind. Did it matter what reason Ben had for asking her to accompany him? She’d welcome some time away from Mother. She glanced toward the tent where her mother had already withdrawn.

  No doubt she overheard this conversation. Unless she’d fallen asleep. If only Abby could hope that was the case. Otherwise Mother would clutch Abby’s arm and remind her of her promise, and of the opportunities for advancement in Oregon. Abby had had to bite her tongue several times in the past few days to keep from asking advancement for whom? Besides, she knew the answer. Mother might think it was for Abby’s sake but in reality, it was for Mother’s. She wanted to be assured she could live in the style she preferred even if Father’s business struggled or failed.

  “I wouldn’t mind stretching my legs. I was getting rather used to all the walking and today we’ve not walked a mile. My legs are restless.” She realized she babbled nonsense and forced herself to clamp her mouth shut.

  She followed Ben as he stepped over the wagon tongue and held his hand out to assist her across. She couldn’t refuse without appearing rude and risking falling on her face should her skirts catch on the wood. But she’d had her hand in his just a day ago and knew the touch would set her nerves to dancing and threaten her resolve.

  She wished to be free, to find independence so neither her parents nor a husband could decide her daily activities and the shape of her future.

  Please, God, make it possible.

  As she placed her hand in his work-roughened, big-palmed one her heart caught against her ribs. As soon as both her feet were on solid ground, she withdrew and pressed her hand to her waist.

  The ground might be solid beneath her feet but not beneath her heart. She drew in a deep breath forcing herself to remember her goals.

  They turned to the right.

  “We’ll finish crossing the river by noon tomorrow, God willing. Sam says we’ll need to move after our noon break. He’s worried about every delay. He often says, ‘Travel, travel, travel. Nothing else will get you safely to the end of your journey. Nothing is wise that causes even a moment’s delay.’”

  She heard the tension in his voice. “You sound concerned.”

  “I want to make sure I get my sisters safely to Oregon. And all these others too, of course.”

  “But it isn’t entirely your responsibility.” She’d noticed he took his duties seriously. Always had, which was one of the things she’d admired about him.

  “The other committeemen are very caring and knowledgeable and Sam is committed to getting us safely across the mountains.”

  She chuckled. “Shouldn’t that comfort you?”

  He slowed his steps and came round to face her. “I try not to worry, but sometimes there are reasons.” He grew thoughtful...opened his mouth. Closed it again without speaking. “I simply can’t afford to let down my guard.”

  Did he mean to warn her that he would be on guard around her? But that would presuppose he still had feelings for her and she’d made sure that would never be a possibility.

  They reached the Morrison wa
gon, where Clarence leaned against a wheel. His bedroll was spread under the wagon. He glanced up at their approach then lowered his gaze, suddenly interested in one of his thumbnails.

  Ben stopped. “How is your wound?”

  “Fine.” The man never spoke in much more than a hoarse rumble. Although Rachel defended Emma’s friendship with Clarence, Abby wondered what she saw in the man. He was slightly built and so shy it hurt to talk to him.

  “Good to hear.” They moved on.

  “What do you think of Clarence Pressman?” Ben asked.

  She measured her words. “He’s not the sort I would expect to join a wagon train. He seems better suited to entering numbers in a ledger. But Emma says his only living relative is a sister in Oregon and he plans to join her.”

  Grant and Amos Tucker jogged up to them. Their hair was wet.

  “We had a nice swim,” Grant said. “Very refreshing.”

  Amos gave his brother a playful punch on the shoulder. “Fess up. Tell them I had to dare you to jump in.”

  The pair laughed.

  “Say, you gonna give us some more music tonight?” Amos asked.

  Abby smiled. This pair was always up to something. Chasing each other or one of the children. Running to help some woman lift her kettle of water. A jolly couple of men. “I’ll play my mandolin later if people want me to.”

  “Oh, they will.” The men moved on. They jumped across a wagon tongue, greeted the owners cheerfully and continued on their way.

  Ben and Abby resumed their walk. She noticed that he paused at each wagon and observed it a moment.

  “Are you looking for something or someone?”

  “Just checking on things.”

  “Good to know.” She couldn’t keep the amusement from her voice.

  He grabbed the wheel of the next wagon and shook it. “A loose wheel can be very dangerous.” He faced her. “But I suppose you know that better than most.”

  She sprang to her father’s defense. “Father had tightened the bolts on his wheel. He simply didn’t know how tight they had to be. I daresay there were others in the same situation.”

  He drew back. “Your father? I wasn’t referring to him. I meant Frank. Didn’t you say he died in a buggy accident? I thought—”

  “His wheel didn’t come loose. He was drunk and going too fast.” She wondered if her eyes were as wide and shocked as his. She had not meant to reveal the truth.

  “Drunk?”

  “Frank was drunk a lot.”

  “Frank? I thought he was a pillar of the community, a virtue of sobriety and the kind of man high society people value.”

  She heard his thinly-veiled sarcasm but continued all the same. “Frank was not what people thought. Especially behind closed doors.”

  Ben’s expression went from shock to suspicion in a flash. He caught her upper arms, holding her fast without hurting her.

  In fact, his touch made her feel safe.

  “Abby, did he hurt you?” He pulled her to within a breath of his broad warm chest. She could feel the heat from his body. Or was she only remembering the way he’d held her and warmed her after pulling her from the river?

  “Tell me the truth.” His voice sounded rough as if he forced the words through a grater.

  “I—”

  “Hello. Mind if I join you?”

  Ben dropped his hands and put a discreet twenty inches between them. “Of course not.” He waited for the other man to reach them. “Abby, this is James Stillwell. James, this is Mrs. Black. James caught up to us this afternoon and has joined Miles Cavanaugh.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Black. I’ve introduced myself to many of the men, but I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting your husband.”

  “There is no Mr. Black.” Was that thin voice hers? “I’m traveling with my parents, the Binghams.”

  “I believe I met your father. No Mr. Black? I’m sorry.” He didn’t sound as sorry as he might, but then, she wasn’t sorry, either.

  They moseyed onward and she found herself between the two men.

  She’d been saved from making the confession that burdened her heart. How Frank had been so cruel to her. A pillar of the community! Nothing could be further from the truth.

  No one had ever heard the real story of her marriage and she’d almost blurted it out to Ben.

  Thankfully James had come along before she could.

  She owed the man her thanks.

  Except...

  Except it wasn’t gratitude she felt.

  Why did her heart ache with regret?

  * * *

  Ben had no need to resent James’s intrusion. They had the same thought in mind—keep an eye on the travelers and take note of anything out of the ordinary. Likely James wanted to familiarize himself with the many emigrants.

  Yet he wished James hadn’t come along when he did.

  Abby had been about to tell him about Frank. He was sure of it. Had Frank hurt her? He curled his fists. His insides burned. He wasn’t good enough for Abby. Both she and her mother had made that clear. But he would never have hurt her.

  Seemed like an awful price to pay for the privilege of marrying someone of class.

  He faltered. Frank was supposedly wealthy. Why hadn’t Abby rescued her father’s business? Or did her money provide the chance to start over in a more prosperous part of the country?

  His insides burned. Was it still about money and who had the most?

  James asked Abby about her plans for the future and Ben listened carefully.

  “I hope I can start a new life,” she said.

  “What would that look like?” James asked the question that Ben didn’t dare.

  The lowering sun caught Abby’s eyes, filling them with golden light. “I hope...” She spoke softly. “With God’s blessing, I can become a free woman.”

  Her words set him back on his heels. That did not sound like a woman agreeing to marry a man of her mother’s choosing. Or any other man, for that matter.

  Abigail Bingham Black was turning out to be a very complicated woman.

  They made their way back to the Hewitt wagon and bid James goodnight.

  Ben was in no hurry to return to the campfire and share his time with others. But how could he persuade her to linger? How could he persuade her to explain the questions she’d raised in his mind?

  “Perhaps we can do this again?” It was the plan, wasn’t it? Though she didn’t know his reason for asking.

  Her raised eyebrows informed him she wasn’t certain what he meant.

  “Go for a walk.”

  She smiled. “I’d like that.” Then she hurried to the back of the Bingham wagon and retrieved her mandolin and the book.

  He sat by the wagon and watched and listened, his heart hoarding the many questions he yearned to ask her. Had Frank hurt her? Did her freedom mean she wasn’t planning to follow her mother’s wishes? Had she or would she change her mind about thinking Ben had nothing to offer her?

  That was rather a large leap in the logic of his thinking. He wasn’t exactly penniless, but neither was he rich. He didn’t want her to see him that way.

  Ben sank into relief when, as predicted, they were on their way after dinner the next day and made good time in the afternoon. Sam’s dour expression grew less fearsome. “Travel is good,” he said several times.

  James laughed at him. “You’re going to wear those words out before we get where we’re going.”

  Sam spared a smile. “So long as we get where we’re going.” He rode on ahead to scout out a stopping place for the night.

  When they stopped for the day, the travelers were more energetic than usual having only spent half a day on the move. Amos and Grant seemed to be in especially high spirits as they drew thei
r wagon into place. Their laughing and good-natured joking could be heard above the normal sounds of the camp settling in.

  The pair took their time about unyoking their animals then wandered away to see to watering them before they turned them out to graze. If they followed their normal routine, they would wander around the camp greeting everyone they encountered, eagerly jumping to lend a hand should they see a need.

  Ben suspected they looked for opportunities to help others in exchange for a meal. As bachelors they likely didn’t have much in the way of cooking skills. By all reports the pair were big eaters and Grant, especially, favored sweets.

  He helped Mr. Bingham who still struggled with his oxen and then took care of his own animals. James came alongside with Miles’s animals.

  “How do you think the day went?” James asked.

  “Fine. We made a good distance for only half a day. I’ve not seen any unusual activity. But I’ve been thinking. Wouldn’t the thief be the most invisible if he didn’t do anything to draw attention to himself?”

  “True. But I find most thieves are brazen. They like the challenge of the steal. They like outwitting their prey. Didn’t you say there have been minor incidents reported?”

  “Little things missing. I’ve put it down to dropping them or misplacing them. I’ve backtracked a few times to retrieve several items that were dropped or left behind.” He didn’t like to think someone in their midst was stealing, but the evidence was growing too strong to dismiss. Again his suspicions went to Clarence. Yet, to be honest, he’d never seen anything that would support his misgivings. Only his feeling that the man hid something. He meant to keep a sharp eye on Clarence and watch the actions of the campers.

  “Mrs. Black and the Binghams seem ill-suited for the journey.”

  Ben bristled at the comments then smoothed his feelings. The man was only making observations. Wasn’t he? Or was he interested in Abby? “They’re adjusting.” He didn’t intend to say more than that.

  “Let me know if they need help. I wouldn’t mind lending a hand.”

  I don’t suppose you would. “The Hewitts and Littletons provide the help they need.”