by Linda Ford
“I’m fine,” she said to all of them, but kept her gaze on Ben as she spoke.
He nodded and smiled. Trusting her.
Where had that thought come from? Yet she felt it so strongly that she smiled as she prepared for bed. She mulled over Delores’s advice.
She considered her mother’s death. She might have been able to prevent it if she’d been there. Or she might have been on the other side of the canvas and if Mother didn’t ask for help, nothing would have changed.
Ben had helped her see an enjoyable future free of so many negative things she’d learned to associate with Andy’s death. She hugged her arms around her. Andy would never have blamed her and would have been angry at her for blaming herself.
It was time to put the painful past behind her.
Only one thing was necessary in order for her to be able to do that.
The next morning she suggested to Nathan that he should drive the wagon, then asked her father to walk with her.
They moved far enough away from the others that she could talk to him without being overheard. “I want to tell you about Andy’s death.” From there to her vow to her mother, she spared no details. “I swore on the Bible and I cannot forget my vow. I’m asking you to release me from it.”
“Your mother was so afraid of being poor. It had been drummed into her from childhood that poverty was a fate worse than death.” His voice choked. “I regret she placed such a burden on your shoulders. I would never want such sacrifice from you.” He hugged her. “I haven’t told you this, but I love you and I want only for you to be happy.”
She’d never been certain of her mother’s love, but felt blessed clear through by her father’s.
They walked on with Abby tucked into the shelter of his arm.
“Abby, I see how you and Ben are together. He’s waiting for you. Has been for some time, I expect. Go to him.”
“Why, aren’t you the romantic?” She laughed, her heart so light it seemed to float within her chest.
She looked about her for the first time since they’d left Fort Laramie. They traveled along the Sweetwater River. Ahead of them lay a sloped rock like a bear sleeping.
“That’s Independence Rock,” Father said. “We’ll be there by early afternoon.”
Independence Rock. How appropriate.
* * *
Ben watched Abby and her father walking some distance away. Was he mistaken in thinking she laughed?
Oh, wouldn’t it be wonderful to hear the music of her laughter again?
The pair walked arm in arm the whole morning.
“Only an hour to Independence Rock,” Sam called as he rode along the line of wagons. “We’ll noon there.”
They reached the massive rock and stopped for dinner.
Abby and her father joined them. There was something about the way Abby acted that made him want to cheer. She moved with energy, like she’d found a reason to enjoy life.
Oh, Lord, please let me be part of that reason. Though he’d be almost content just to see her ready to put her past behind even if he didn’t play a part in it.
After the meal he hung about. Was it too soon to ask her to walk?
She solved his quandary by turning to him. “Ben, why don’t you show me the rock?”
He was on his feet so fast he had a moment of light-headedness.
They were among many who had the same idea.
She laughed at the young men scrambling to the top of the rock. She picked a wild daisy and tucked it behind her ear.
Ben could not find his tongue. Was afraid to speak for fear of sending her back into her shell.
The others were intent on reaching the rock. He cared only to ask Abby about this new, joyful person she’d become.
The one he thought had vanished after her mother’s death.
They reached the base of the rock and had to stop unless she suggested they climb it.
She didn’t. Instead, she turned to face him. “Ben, I wanted to be here, at Independence Rock, when I told you I am free. I have my independence.”
She correctly read his confusion.
“Father said I am under no obligation to keep my vow. He doesn’t even want me to. Says he’ll take care of himself if I don’t mind.”
“What about your mother?”
She sighed. “I might have been able to help my mother if I’d been right there. Or not. In the end, her pride was responsible for her not asking for help.”
He nodded.
“Don’t you see? I’m free. Free to live and love and enjoy life the way I choose.”
“Does your choice include me?” He barely managed to get the words out as his throat threatened to close off.
She smiled up at him. “I kissed you back on the prairie. What do you think that meant?”
He tried to sort out his scrambled thoughts. “I don’t know what it meant to you, but I know what it meant to me.” He opened his arms and she came eagerly, wrapping her arms about him and sighing as if she had also wanted this for a long time.
“My sweet Abigail, I love you and have since we first met. I’ve never stopped loving you, even though I tried after you married Frank.”
“I have never stopped loving you, either.”
“Will you marry me?”
“I will.”
He bent his head and claimed her lips. It was like coming home after a hard day. Like seeing sunshine after a long storm. Like everything good rolled up in this one sweet gesture.
They eased back, but couldn’t bear to part and kissed again.
He lifted his head. “I have an idea. Let’s find Grayson’s name.” They searched until they did. He pulled his knife from his pocket and carved his name. Ben Hewitt. Beside it he added Abby. He began to carve a B when she stopped him.
“No more Bingham or Black. I want to forget the past and look to the future.”
He kissed her again before they returned to the wagon.
Emma saw them approach. “I think you have an announcement to make.”
“Abby and I are to be married. Not right away, because it’s too soon after her mother’s death.”
He went immediately to Mr. Bingham. “Sir, I would like your permission to marry your daughter.”
The man grabbed his hand. “I heartily approve. She deserves every bit of happiness you can give her.”
Friends and family gathered round them and offered congratulations.
“This is reason to celebrate,” Emma said. “Let’s have a party.” She looked at her soiled apron and pulled it off. Rubbed her hand over her hair. “I’m going to fix my hair.” She went to the wagon and let out a squeak.
“What’s wrong?” Ben called.
“Someone’s been rifling through our belongings. My silver and tortoiseshell hair combs are missing.” She barely contained a wail. “Mother gave them to me. They were hers. Who would take them?”
James and Sam were present.
Sam looked around the assembly. “Did anyone see anything suspicious? Speak up if you did. It’s time to expose the thief.”
Rev. Pettygrove stepped forward. “I saw someone with dark hair and kind of tall looking in the wagon.”
Only a half a dozen men fit the description Rev. Pettygrove gave and they all had alibis.
Except Nathan Reed.
He stared at the crowd with fierce eyes, but spoke not a word of defense.
“He’s guilty,” Ernie Jones called. “Let’s deal with it here and now.”
Ben groaned. So much for a celebration.
Miles Cavanaugh heard him and took pity on him. “First we celebrate the engagement of Ben and Abby. We’ll deal with this matter afterward.”
“I’ll watch Nathan,” James said and indicated the
big man should precede him to the Cavanaugh wagon.
Miles clapped to get everyone’s attention back on him. “Now let’s enjoy the evening and Ben and Abby’s love.”
That evening there was much rejoicing amid music and dancing but none enjoyed the evening nor had more reason for joy than Ben.
He pulled Abby into his arms. “Are you sure you want to give up your newfound independence to marry a man like me?” He half teased, but waited for her answer with a measure of trepidation.
She tipped her head back and smiled sweet. “Freedom to follow my heart is the greatest freedom I could ask for.” She pressed her hands to the back of his head and pulled him close. Just before their lips met she whispered. “I am free to love you the rest of my life.”
* * * * *
If you liked this JOURNEY WEST novel,
watch for the next book,
WAGON TRAIN SWEETHEART
by Lacy Williams, available May 2015.
And don’t miss a single story in the JOURNEY WEST miniseries:
Book #1: WAGON TRAIN REUNION
by Linda Ford
Book #2: WAGON TRAIN SWEETHEART
by Lacy Williams
Book #3: WAGON TRAIN PROPOSAL
by Renee Ryan
Keep reading for an excerpt from AN UNLIKELY LOVE by Dorothy Clark.
Dear Reader,
This story is based on a very real event. The first wagon train on the Oregon Trail indeed crossed the country in 1843. Historical experts might find some discrepancies in my tale. My aim was to tell a satisfying story within the limits of the acceptable word count.
I am so often amazed when I read of the early pioneers. They faced incredible challenges with resolve and extraordinary courage. This is no more evident than in the first wagon train on the Oregon Trail. I wonder if I could have embarked on such a journey. And yet it isn’t the physical challenges but dealing with the emotional baggage that so often proves the bigger hurdle. In that, I don’t think the travelers were much different than we are. My prayer for this story is that it will help the readers find healing and wholeness from any personal burden they have.
I love to hear from my readers. You can contact me at www.lindaford.org where you’ll find my email address and where you can find out more about me and my books.
Blessings,
Linda Ford
We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Love Inspired Historical title.
You find illumination in days gone by. Love Inspired Historical stories lift the spirit as heroines tackle the challenges of life in another era with hope, faith and a focus on family.
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Chapter One
August 1874
Chautauqua Lake, New York
The steamer lurched, vibrated. The whistle blew. They were under way. It wouldn’t be long now. Marissa caught her balance and pressed her hand hard over her stomach. Laughter and excited chatter rose around her. It seemed as if everyone on the boat was talking about the Chautauqua Assembly program. Snippets of conversations about the Bible studies, teacher training classes, musical entertainments, recreational activities and lectures the assembly offered swelled to an uncomfortable din.
The lectures. She squeezed the small velvet purse dangling from her wrist, felt the stiffness of the two letters inside and took another breath against the roiling in her stomach. The hum of voices drowned out the patter of the rain against the window at her back. She swept her gaze over the people crowded onto benches or standing shoulder to shoulder in the large cabin and gauged her chances of making it to the door.
“Excuse me.” She turned sideways, edged through the crowd and slipped outside. The hubbub of the other passengers aboard the Colonel Phillips faded to a low murmur. A cool mist from the falling rain swept under the floor of the upper deck and peppered her face. She took a deep breath of the fresh air and looked around. Lantern light from the windows spread a golden gleam across the wet deck, glistened on the railing. She pulled the hood of her waterproof coat forward, took a cautious step toward the front of the ship, another, then stopped.
“Are you all right, miss?”
A man strode toward her out of the darkness. Obviously, he had no problem walking aboard a moving vessel. She nodded, wiped the moisture from her face. “I’m fine. It’s only that I’m unaccustomed to walking on a floor that quivers beneath my feet. It’s a little unnerving.”
The light from behind her washed over the man’s strong, well-defined features, flashed on his white teeth when he smiled. My, but he’s handsome. Warmth climbed into her cheeks. She turned her face away from a lantern hanging from the upper deck that would, no doubt, reveal her blush.
“It’s the thrust of the steamer’s engine you feel. The occasional lurch is caused by the paddle wheels when there is a steering correction.” The man stopped a few steps away from her. “The deck is a bit slick. May I assist you to your destination?”
He was younger than she’d thought. Perhaps in his midtwenties. A few years older than herself. She glanced across the distance to the railing and weighed her unease against propriety.
“Allow me to introduce myself.” The man removed his hat and dipped his head in a small polite bow that revealed a mass of short brown hair with deep waves crested by sun streaks. “Grant Winston, at your service.” He replaced his hat and flashed his smile again. “At least I am if you will permit me to be, Miss...”
“Bradley.” She drew her gaze from his disarming grin, nibbled at the corner of her lip. “I am going to the railing at the front of the ship. If you wouldn’t mind walking beside me...”
“It would be my pleasure.”
“Then, thank you, Mr. Winston. I accept your kindness.” She offered a silent prayer that she wouldn’t slip on the wet deck and stepped forward. Grant Winston moved beside her, matching his steps to her uncertain ones. She let out a sigh and took a tight hold when they reached the railing.
“Feel safer now?”
“I will as long as I don’t look down.”
He chuckled. A deep, pleasant sort of rolling sound that had a smile tugging at her lips.
“I take it you’re not a veteran steamer passenger?”
“I’m strictly a landlubber.” She laughed to cover the nervous tremor in her voice and peeked over the railing. Dark water flowed beneath the ship, brushed along the side in a sinister-sounding whisper. Her stomach flopped. “I didn’t know how intimidating water could be. I should have made Lincoln teach me to swim.” The name slipped from her lips without thought. Pain rose, squeezed the air from her lungs. She blinked, thankful for the rain that would hide any betraying shimmer of tears.
“Lincoln?”
The band of pain squeezed tighter. “My brother.” Bitterness tainted her voice. She drew a shallow, ragged breath, lifted her gaze and watched the lights on the shore morph to yellow blurs as the ship steamed toward the middle of the long lake. Don’t let him ask about Lincoln, Lord. Please, don’t let him ask. The ship lurched. Her kid gloves slipped against the wet rail. She gasped and tightened her grip.
“It might help if you look at the land ahead, instead of behind. See how it curves around? That’s why the captain changed course. The ship will steady now.”
His deep voice was calm, reassuring. The tension left her shoulders. Thank You, Lord. She gingerly shifted her position and searched for the spot he described.
He gestu
red ahead toward the right. “When we pass that outcropping, you’ll see lights among the trees on the hills at the Chautauqua campgrounds at Fair Point, though it’s still quite some distance away.”
The wind gusted. He swiped the water from the collar of his mackintosh and tugged it up around his neck. “I understand there are already a great number of people in attendance, though the assembly does not officially begin until tomorrow. And, of course, there are still people coming by steamers both from here in Mayville and from Jamestown at the other end of the lake. Two or three hundred on every ship. A friend here in Mayville told me the captains are leaving port at full capacity.”
If he was trying to distract her, it worked admirably. “So many?”
“Yes. It’s quite amazing really.” He turned toward her, leaned his hip against the railing. “The Chautauqua Assembly program seems to have caught the interest of people from all over. I’ve spoken with a family from Canada. And people from Ohio and Virginia. And, of course, New York and Pennsylvania.”
Oh, my! What had she gotten herself into? She swallowed hard and stared toward the outcropping he’d pointed out. The more people who attended her lectures, the better, of course. But she was no orator, only—
“Am I right?”
She started out of her thoughts, glanced up at him. “I beg your pardon?”
“I asked if you are attending the assembly.”
Her stomach clenched. “Yes, I am.” Because of you, Lincoln. And Father.
“I thought as much.”
She took a steadying breath, thrust her dark thoughts away. “And why is that?”
“Because I believe everyone aboard this ship, save the captain and crew, is headed for the Chautauqua campgrounds. And—” his gaze dropped to her hands gripping the railing “—I figure it had to be something like this advertised assembly to entice you to step foot on the Colonel Phillips.”
