Bartered Bride Romance Collection Page 14

  Sliding her hand over his, Bethany tried to choose her words carefully. “I know it’s a delicate subject, but I’d rather discuss it with you.” Encouraged by his approving nod, she continued. “Since … funds … have become a temporary issue for Papa and Penny due to your father’s reversal of fortunes, I thought perhaps you and I could beg their indulgence because it’s our honeymoon and shop for the supplies ourselves.”

  He smiled. “That would suit. Papa’s pride has him spurning my assistance, but I doubt he could refuse you anything.”

  “Perfect!” Bethany drew another item from the reticule. “Here you are.”

  “What’s this?” Josh took the folded envelope and about choked when he looked at the letter of credit inside.

  “My inheritance. The family attorney wired the funds to Mrs. Throckmorton once I received your proposal. I’m so relieved to give it to you. Carrying it made me nervous.”

  “It’s a very substantial legacy. We’ll endeavor to be good stewards. Did you have any hopes or plans for this?”

  “I thought we’d use it to buy our supplies.”

  “Sweetheart, I can more than afford to provide for us. God’s been very gracious to me. After our tithes and offerings on this, why don’t we save the remainder and use it to build a nice house in Oregon or fund our children’s educations?”

  His reference to children made her cheeks grow warm. Eager to change the subject, she insisted upon Joshua showing her everything in his trunk so she could determine whether he had all he’d need, then was mortified that he insisted on inspecting the contents of her trunk. To her relief, he simply dipped his head when she held her hand against one drawer and choked out, “Small clothes.”

  “I’m pleased at how practical you’ve been,” he praised, studying her dress. “Pretty, but not too many frills.”

  “Hopefully, the green and gold won’t show dust or grass stains too badly.” She looked down and pretended to brush away a speck of lint. “Everyone at the academy was so excited. They sewed clothes for me, and we figured out just how to use every last inch in the trunk. I don’t think I could wedge in another thing.”

  “Not even another pair of Italian leather slippers?”

  She buried her face in her hands as laughter bubbled up.

  Josh took her wrists, kissed the backs of her hands very tenderly, then winked. “I’m teasing, but I’m not. I really do think you need another pair of shoes. Since I don’t know how many pairs of stockings you have, we’re going to get you a few more pair.”

  “Me? Oh, I don’t think I’ll need any. Quite the opposite; I was trying to find a diplomatic way of telling you I think we still need to stock up on essentials for you.”

  “I followed the list.” He patted his pocket.

  “That list was designed for an army man, not a doctor or family man. I’ll make a deal with you: I’ll get another pair of shoes and see to completing your necessities, and you can obtain more medical items to pack. One of the advantages of taking our own wagon will be that you can have a better supply of implements and pharmaceuticals.”

  After room service delivered their breakfast, they dined over by the window and watched the streets bustle with folks all preparing for their westward treks. Bethany added cream to her tea and asked, “Do you think we ought to buy a milk cow to take with us?”

  “Have you ever milked a cow?”

  “No.” She waited a beat and added, “Just a goat.”

  He chortled softly then leaned forward. “Papa already bought one and named her Lady Macbeth because she’s almost all white and has reddish brown spots on her forelegs.”

  A school bell clanged nearby. Josh consulted his pocket watch. “We’re supposed to be at the meeting in fifteen minutes.”

  “I’m eager to meet all of our traveling mates. Aren’t you?”

  He rose and pulled out her chair so she could rise then bent down so his breath brushed her cheek. “Not especially. The most charming one is already in my wagon.”

  Josh sat next to his bride and looked at folks in their square of benches. For the past twenty minutes, their guide, James “Rawhide” Rawson, had outlined their route and set out the rules for their train. He’d then divided everyone into three groups of twelve wagons apiece. Each group was to get acquainted.

  Though Bethany sat with her knees pressed together primly, she folded and unfolded her hands in her lap. Just about everyone else seemed to be in motion, too. They crossed and uncrossed legs, fiddled with clothing, and gawked around, but Josh sat motionless. He could focus better when he stayed still, and he’d learned while sitting at his mother’s bedside as her health faltered that tranquillity tended to be contagious. Whenever he sensed others needed calming, he purposefully acted restful. As far as he could tell, half of these folks were far too eager and needed to settle down; the other half were nervous enough that they needed to calm down. He shot Bethany a quick look and decided she fit into the latter category, so he slipped his hand over hers and gave her a reassuring squeeze as he suggested, “Why don’t we get going on the introductions?”

  A spry, fiftyish woman stood and bobbed her head at everyone. “I’m Willodene Haywood. Y’all just call me Granny Willodene.” She cast a glance at the collection of children all wiggling in the middle of their square. “I reckon we’ll never keep straight whose young’uns are whose today. May as well let ’em go out and frolic. You biggers mind the littlers. We’re all gonna be together, so best you all learn to play nice.” The children obediently traipsed outside.

  Following Granny Willodene’s example, folks introduced themselves. The Greens, Schmitts, and Barneses were all farming families, looking for a brighter future. Clearly, Orson and Eulalie Millberg counted themselves a cut above the rest of the travelers—they brought a little Irish maid along and hired a sturdy, taciturn man named Dillon Trier to haul their prissy daughter’s piano in a second wagon. Rawboned Mr. Sawyer announced he’d be happy to use his carpentry skills to help folks out with their wagons if problems came up. The three Cole brothers looked brawny as oxen, and Josh thought the pharmacist, Mr. Harris, might be a nice companion for his own father and a professional ally for himself. He’d not paid attention to the man’s daughter, but Bethany whispered, “Emma has such a shy, sweet smile.” Young Parson Brewster, who performed their wedding, came over and took a seat. Bethany perked up a bit, and Josh suspected she subtly nudged Penny. He quelled a smile. Penny had played matchmaker for them; it would serve her right if Bethany returned the favor. Mr. Crawford, a book and Bible salesman, looked to have his hands busy with a wife, sister, and kids in tow. With Papa and Penny’s wagon and theirs, the full dozen were accounted for.

  Josh thought everyone in their circle looked hale. Both of the other circles belonging to their train had folks who hacked with consumptive coughs. He made a mental note to stock up on more eucalyptus and cherry bark.

  Once their group finished the round of introductions, the menfolk seemed antsy to get out and see to matters. On the other hand, Josh noted how the women kept chattering and working at getting to know one another. The division seemed pretty clear: Most of the men were eager; most of the women worried about what lay ahead. He didn’t want Bethany to fret, so he shot her a bolstering smile.

  “Rawhide” banged on a post and gained everyone’s attention. “Enough of the palavering. Weather’s looking good, the prairie grass is four inches high so the oxen will have plenty to eat, and the mud on the trail’s hardening. Since everyone has already mustered, we’ll leave Thursday at daybreak.”

  “At least give us one more day—make it Friday,” Mr. Millberg demanded in an officious tone.

  “Nope.” Rawhide turned his head to the side and spat a stream of tobacco into a brass spittoon. Without missing a beat, he added, “Friday’s the thirteenth. Call me a superstitious heathen, but I ain’t gonna set out on a day like that, and if we wait till Saturday, another train will set out ahead of us. Their livestock will eat the grass and foul the wat
er.”

  “That part I agree with,” said Parson Brewster diplomatically.

  Rawhide smacked his gloves on his thigh in acknowledgment. “All of you are to bring your wagons and beasts to the edge of the west pasture by noon tomorrow at the latest. The Coles and I will guard them for you. Remember—pack for survival, not sentiment.”

  Bethany hopped up and tugged on Josh’s arm. “We’d better hurry! He just cut our time in half.”

  Chapter 3

  Careful!” Josh drew Bethany closer as they walked down the rowdy streets of Independence, back toward the hotel. They’d just finished wedging the last of their supplies into the wagon. “I have to hand it to you, Bethy-mine. You jammed more into that prairie schooner than I could have believed possible.”

  She smiled up at him. “I think we work well together. It felt right, making those difficult choices as a team.”

  Accompanied by his big yellow mutt, Parson Brewster came toward them. He hefted a small crate of supplies and said, “We’ll move out at dawn tomorrow. I’m inviting everyone to meet by my wagon for a quick word of prayer before we start.”

  Josh gave Bethany’s hand a squeeze. “My wife and I will be there.”

  The next morning, he held her hand again as folks gathered together to ask God’s blessing on their journey. The feel of his strong hand clasping hers and the first golden rays of sunlight made Bethany feel this adventure was blessed. Afterward, she scampered to their wagon while the men listened to a few last-minute details from the guide. She quickly attached the ribbon streamers and bunches of wildflowers she’d gathered to the back and sides of the wagon.

  Penny brought over a sign that sent them both into giggles. Josh came over, took one look, and chuckled as he tacked it over the dish box. TIED THE KNOT AND UN-AFRAY-ED.

  It temporarily covered the golden caduceus Bethany had painted on the wagon. “A traveling shingle of sorts,” she’d told Josh with a shy smile. His pleasure at that tiny gesture warmed her heart.

  The second Penny had seen their pretty-colored wagon, she’d dashed off to the mercantile and returned with a bucket of paint. That wagon now sported a coat of blue paint, and several spatters dotted the wheel spokes, giving them an odd likeness to robins’ eggs.

  Penny glanced ahead at her wagon then back at the other wagons. She moaned as she read the crudely lettered OREGON OR BUST the Cole brothers had painted on their wagon’s canopy.

  “Sis, don’t you dare say a thing to them,” Josh teased. “They just might start admiring the blue paint job you did and hire you to—”

  “Bethany,” she interrupted, “let’s walk together.”

  “No, my bride’s going to ride with me this morning.” Josh slipped his hand about Bethany’s waist and snuggled her to his side. “We’ve been racing about for the past few days. It’s time to take a breather.”

  “I’d like that,” Bethany whispered.

  The road away from Independence was so wide, the wagons lined up twelve abreast to leave. Folks shouted out with glee as Rawhide gave the order to set in motion.

  “This is going to take some getting used to.” Josh braced Bethany as she nearly slid off the seat after another jolt. They’d been riding almost half an hour, and every yard brought another bump.

  “I read the ride would be jarring.”

  “You like to read a lot?”

  “Oh, yes. Do you?”

  He smiled at her. “When I have the time.” Josh looked at the oxen again and said, “Papa grieved at selling off the library, but the books were too heavy to bring. All I have are Marcy’s The Prairie Traveler, my Bible, and a half dozen medical books.”

  “Your father has a whole library memorized. I’ve never known anyone who could recite so many pieces. It’s enthralling.”

  “I suppose it’s not uncommon for an English professor to know so much, but he and Penny both have the gift of oration.”

  He shot her a quick glance. “I saw a few books in your trunk. What were they?”

  She waved her hand dismissively. “Nothing much. Whoops!” She jounced into him. “You’re going to need to doctor yourself for all the bruises I’m causing, crashing into you!”

  Josh didn’t press her about her choice of reading material, though he felt a stab of curiosity. The fact of the matter was, he and his bride needed to get to know one another. He moved on to a new topic. “When did you milk a goat?”

  “When I was twelve, Mrs. Throckmorton arranged for me to spend Christmas with some of her relatives. I learned all sorts of wondrous things about animals. Other than last December with Penny and Papa and you, it was the best Christmas I remember.”

  Penny and Papa and you. She stuck me last on the list.

  “I thought Lady Macbeth was easier to milk this morning.”

  Josh squinted to look past the oxen to the rear of his father’s wagon. Papa had roped Lady Macbeth to it. “She’s ambling along nicely. With all of this dust, she won’t be white by noon.”

  “Neither will the milk.” Bethany twisted backward and pulled a jar from a small bucket she’d hung behind their seat. As she let him peep beneath the wet dishcloth, Bethany chirped, “All of this jostling will turn it into buttermilk!”

  “I’ve never had much of a liking for buttermilk, but I relish buttermilk flapjacks.”

  “Do you mind if I give one of the families with lots of children the extra buttermilk then make flapjacks later in the week? I have a menu all worked out for the next two days.”

  “Fine.” He braced her as she turned to put the jar away. “Hold tight. Bump ahead.”

  Bethany pivoted and slipped her arms around him. The sweet scent of her honeysuckle perfume made him hold her even closer. Charmed by her self-conscious giggle, Josh brushed a kiss on her cheek and patted her before he let go. “Best put on your sunbonnet, Sweet Beth. The sun’s starting to sneak over the top of our wagon.”

  As she tied the ribbons in a jaunty bow beneath her chin, his bride said, “I didn’t know you disliked buttermilk. I recall from Christmas that you have a hearty appetite and prefer apples to cranberries. Tell me more about what you do and don’t fancy.”

  “Everything you put in the food supplies looked good to me. You brought stuff I’ve never seen before.”

  “Oh, when I came back from Christmas without Penny because she was going on the trail, Mrs. Throckmorton used her upcoming adventure as a school project. We researched food, weather, and geography. Once you wrote and proposed, the cook went to the shipyard and train station to select the freshest fruits and vegetables from Florida, the islands, and South America. Everyone helped me preserve them. Mrs. Throckmorton and the girls have been like my family.” She gestured ahead. “But now Penny and Papa and you are my real family.”

  Josh nodded. He didn’t say a word.

  Bethany almost wished she’d walked with Penny, after all. Conversing with Joshua wasn’t very easy. For the past four days, they’d had plenty to talk about and do. Now that they were all set and traveling, she came to a disquieting realization: she’d married a man she barely knew. She drew her cocoa-colored kerseymere shawl about her shoulders—as much to hide her shudder as to fight the April chill.

  “Cold?”

  “A little.” She forced a smile. “I’m interested in hearing about what you’ve planned to do once we reach the Willamette.”

  “Each family is allowed to claim 120 acres. Papa and I will each claim land. We thought to build cabins close to the shared property line so you and Penny can help each other and visit.”

  “Wonderful!” She paused, then wrinkled her nose. “What about your medical practice? You’ll be away from town.”

  “Not necessarily. We’ll not be in a big city, but townships are springing up everywhere. Choosing a good location shouldn’t be overly difficult. I anticipate I’ll be called away at times, so I wanted our cabin close to others so you’d have help.”

  “You’re most thoughtful, Josh, but you needn’t fret. I’m quite independent
.”

  “Are you, now?”

  She heard the challenge and amusement in his voice. “Yes. Why don’t you teach me how to drive this thing?”

  “There’ll be time for that later. The wainwrights designed a clever seat here, but we can ride my horse or walk alongside to spare the oxen.”

  “Did you get new shoes for your pony, as you did for me?”

  His chuckle lightened her mood. “Yes, but I won’t expect you to eat grass. I had a friend go to Chicago and do some horse trading for me.” As Bethany looked at the two black-splotched white horses, Josh continued, “The one on the left is Tincture. He’s Papa’s. Ours is named Tonic.”

  “With names like that, they ought to stay in the pink of health.”

  “I hope so. That Tennessee walker of Orson Millberg’s is a beautiful beast, but he’ll end up in bad shape because he’s accustomed to eating hay and oats. My friend got Papa and me these Indian paints because they’re content to graze on the grasses.”

  “I hope you’ll be content with grasses, too.” She darted a look from beneath the brim of her sunbonnet. “I brought oatmeal, rice, barley, corn, and wheat.”

  “All that’s fine—but I do like my flapjacks.”

  They spoke in fits and starts all morning. The awkwardness waxed and waned. Realizing her groom had sharp wit, Bethany tried to use humor to draw him out. By the time the wagons stopped for lunch, she was relieved to have Penny and Papa to help carry the conversation.

  Papa threw a rust-red blanket on the ground near a patch of violet and yellow wood sorrel, and Penny brought buttermilk. While Josh delivered their buttermilk to the Sawyers, Bethany set out the fried chicken, cheese, and apple tarts they’d gotten as a boxed lunch from the hotel.

  Up ahead a small ruckus drew their attention. Rawhide stayed mounted, glared down at the Millbergs, and waved at their maid. “Miz Katie, you put that chair right back in that wagon. You folks can sit on the ground just like everyone else. Noontime stops are necessities. Eat simple, rest up.”