Bartered Bride Romance Collection Read online

  Josh took one good look at his wife and sister and burst out laughing. “Gloves?”

  Penny peeled off her elbow-length, once-white glove. “This is never going to wash clean!”

  Bethany pulled off the other filthy glove from the pair of once-elegant ballroom gloves they’d obviously shared and nudged the basket of buffalo chips down at her feet. She cast a wry look at Penny. “If Mrs. Throckmorton could see us now!”

  “She’d have a fit of vapors!”

  Josh looked at the dried plate-sized chips, then at the gloves, and chuckled. “Would she be more upset about your gloves or about what you’ve collected?”

  Bethany waggled her finger at him. “If you make fun of us, Joshua Rogers, you just might have to cook supper over those stinky things yourself!”

  He twitched his nose. “Beth, the honeysuckle still wins as my favorite—but one of your suppers will, no doubt, smell terrific.”

  Penny spun her glove around like a slingshot and launched it at him. He caught it as she declared, “Mrs. Throckmorton always said the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach!”

  “I researched her academy carefully before I recommended Papa send you there. I knew she was a wise woman.”

  “That does it.” Bethany went up on tiptoe and gave him a hug. “You’re forgiven for teasing us. I didn’t know you’re the one responsible for Penny being my roommate!”

  He hugged her back. “Do I get a kiss for making her your sister?”

  Bethany pulled away and sashayed toward the wagon. Her words floated back to him. “No, but you’ll get apple crisp for dessert!”

  The evening after they traversed a hilly limestone region and crossed the toll bridge over the Wakarusa, Penny kept hovering. Some of the time, having family here was a blessing, not a burden. For now, Josh wished Penny would realize he and Bethany were entitled to some private time. More than a bit irritated, Josh finally groused, “Sis, we want to have devotions.”

  “Perhaps we could all join the others for a while,” Papa suggested. “It’s early yet.”

  Josh shoved his hands in his pockets and balled them into fists. He’d just about run out of tolerance.

  “I don’t think I could sleep quite yet,” Bethany confessed, ruining his plan to take a stand.

  Soon they all joined the others. Folks loved to hear Papa do recitations. He’d just finished Hamlet’s soliloquy and beckoned, “Penny, come do Ophelia.”

  “Oh, great,” Penny muttered. “I get to go die again.”

  Bethany whispered, “Want me to send that handsome Dillon Trier to rescue you?”

  “I could only wish!” Penny sighed and took her place at the campfire. As she began, Rawhide tapped Josh’s shoulder. Bethany grabbed his hand. “Do you need my help?”

  Hours later, Bethany held Mrs. Wentworth’s head as she got violently ill. Afterward, she blotted the poor woman’s blue-tinged face and looked at Josh. He knelt quietly between two little boys who were curled double from stomach pain. None of the three of them stood a chance of surviving until morning. Mr. Harris was dosing two other children with some paregoric. With a miracle, that pair might pull through.

  “Doc, we brought some tonic,” one of the Wentworth men said. “Dr. C. V. Girard’s ginger brandy. Says right here, ‘A certain cure for cholera, colic, cramps, dysentery, chills, and fever.’ ”

  “Fine. Give her a tablespoon.”

  “Here. I’ll hold her head; you spoon it in,” Bethany said. “It sounds like just what she needs. You’re a very loving son, Mr. Wentworth.”

  Josh marveled at his wife’s reaction. He’d plainly told her the woman wouldn’t last another two hours. Instead of running from the face of death, Bethany wanted to comfort both the patient and her distraught family. In the midst of this travesty, he held on to the solace that she’d left the evening entertainment and willingly joined him here. Indeed, he’d truly married a helpmeet.

  The next morning, after the assemblage listened to the pastor’s brief prayer and sang a hymn, Rawhide stood between two of the graves. “Folks,” he let out a beleaguered sigh, “Mrs. Wentworth and them boys drank tainted water. Let this be a lesson—no drinking, fishing, or washing downstream from where the animals water. Indians go by that dictum, and they fare middlin’ well. I said it back in Independence, and I didn’t want to have to repeat myself. Now let’s move out.”

  Too weary to walk, Bethany rode next to Josh. She rested her head on his shoulder and sleepily murmured, “Deuteronomy 1:21 says, ‘Behold, the Lord thy God hath set the land before thee: go up and possess it, as the Lord God of thy fathers hath said unto thee; fear not, neither be discouraged.’ ”

  He kissed her temple. “Thanks, sweetheart. I needed to hear that.” As she drowsed, he pondered on the verse and wondered what discouragements and fears they’d need to overcome before they reached their promised land in Oregon.

  The mighty Kansas River’s current churned by. The Pappan Ferry consisted of two very flimsy-looking canoes lashed with poles. One at a time, the wagons were taken across the two-hundred-yard expanse for four dollars apiece. The animals swam, and for the last trip, the ferryman put a set of boards across so the “raft” could carry the last group of folks across. He collected a dime from each passenger as he allowed them aboard.

  “I’ve got hold of you, my Beth.” Josh cupped her waist and swung her onto the raft. Excitement filled his voice as he said, “Come stand here. You can watch the last of the oxen swim across the river.”

  Bethany could scarcely make her feet move. When the raft bobbled, Josh balanced her and tugged her to the spot he’d indicated. The river rushed by; yet in contrast, her mouth was so dry, she could scarcely swallow.

  Josh slid his arm about her waist and nestled her closer. She huddled there, desperate to draw strength and courage from him. He looked down and grinned. “Such bright, shiny eyes, sweetheart. I’m glad you’re as excited as I am.”

  If only you knew the truth, Josh….

  All day long, their party’s wagons had crossed the mighty Kansas River. When it was almost time for their wagon’s turn, Josh answered an urgent call for medical help at the Crawford wagon. To Bethany’s relief, several men volunteered to get her wagon to the other side. She’d spent the remainder of the afternoon trying to tamp down her fears. Now they all welled up, and Josh mistook her panic for thrill.

  “Away!” the burly ferryman shouted.

  The raft left shore, and Bethany’s breath caught. Suddenly, the raft seemed horribly precarious. If a rogue tree snagged them, if boards slipped, if the current shifted …

  Josh grabbed a pole and pushed a small keg away from the raft. Bethany watched in horror as it floated by. It fell off someone’s wagon. What if Josh tumbled into the river? She grabbed at his shirt.

  “Miss me?” he chuckled.

  Bethany couldn’t answer. She stared up at him as the sound of rushing water filled her ears and the sky dimmed and swirled.

  Chapter 6

  She all right?” The ferryman gave Bethany a puzzled look. Josh cradled his limp wife in his arms and stepped ashore. Pale and clammy as could be, she’d not yet roused from her swoon. He strode toward their bright green wagon. It was easy enough to find.

  Josh carefully laid Bethany in the late afternoon shade between two wagons. She’d started to stir a bit, but he was about ready to use this makeshift privacy to loosen her clothing. Surely, she couldn’t be with child this soon. He didn’t think she was laced too tight, and she hadn’t struck him as the fainting type, but this swoon was lasting far too long.

  “Here.” His sister shoved a wet cloth at him then proceeded to wring her hands. “I feared this.”

  “Feared what?” He swiped at Bethany’s wan cheeks and limp wrists. “The river. It just—”

  Bethany let out a small moan as her eyes fluttered open. Her brows knit as she blinked in confusion. “Where … what—ohh.” A scant touch of color filled her cheeks as she struggled to sit up.

 
; Josh heard his sister beat a hasty retreat. He kept his eyes trained on his bride and slipped an arm behind her shoulders to support her. “You want to tell me what this is all about?”

  Her gaze dropped to her lap as she mumbled, “I’d rather not.”

  “I don’t believe in husbands and wives keeping secrets.” He tilted her face back up to his, and his heart skipped a beat when he saw how her eyes swam with tears. She tumbled into his chest, and he wrapped his arms about her.

  “Bridge washed out,” she said thickly into his shirt. “Mama and Daddy’s carriage … they drowned.”

  “Awww, Bethy-mine.” He kissed her temple and squeezed her. “Why didn’t you just tell me you’re scared of water?” A few minutes later, she pushed away from him, stood, and fussed with her hands. From the way she avoided eye contact, murmured something unintelligible, and hastened away, Josh knew she was still embarrassed.

  “Psssst.” Penny crooked a finger and beckoned him over to her wagon. Once he reached her side, she whispered, “Josh, I feel so stupid! I should have told you, but in all of the excitement, I forgot. Beth was in that carriage. The driver managed to save her, but she almost drowned, too.”

  He stared at his sister in shock. “Why didn’t she tell me?”

  “She’s ashamed.” Penny wrung her hands. “My guess is, she worried you wouldn’t bring her along if you knew.”

  And she desperately wanted to be with you and Papa…. The instant after he thought that, Josh felt a surge of excitement. This is how I can teach her to depend on me, to finally accept me as her protector and man. Each time we come to water, I’ll be right at her side and see her through. She won’t be thinking of Papa’s stories or Penny’s chatter at times like that—she’ll need me to lean on.

  He strode off to find Bethany. The last thing she needed was to be alone right after reliving her worst nightmare. He wandered around the entire encampment and failed to find her. Frustrated as well as concerned, he glanced at their wagon and noticed how it jostled a bit.

  “Bethany?” he called as he climbed inside.

  She knelt atop a trunk and dusted her fingertips off on the skirt of her brown paisley dress. He’d noted she fussed with her skirts whenever she was embarrassed or uncomfortable. If ever a woman needed comforting, he was looking at her now.

  Josh sat beside her and had to draw his left knee up to his chest because there wasn’t enough room for both feet to hang down. He slipped his hand over hers and laced fingers. For a few moments, he sat motionless and let silence swirl around them. Finally, he said in his quietest tone, “It’s not much of a home, but we’ve made every inch of it ours. It’ll carry our goods to Oregon, and I’m going to be by your side every bit of the way—especially when we have to make crossings.”

  The Osnaburg canopy captured her soft gasp. She looked up at him, her eyes glistening. He wasn’t sure whether it was with tears or determination. “I’m not well versed like Penny, but I have one quote by Shakespeare that I’ve claimed for our trip: ‘Our doubts are traitors, and make us lose the good we oft might win by fearing to attempt.’ I won’t let my silliness hold us back.”

  “So my wife isn’t just beautiful, she’s also brave.”

  She bowed her head, but he still spied the single tear that slipped down her cheek. “No, Joshua. You married a coward.”

  “Nonsense.” He tilted up her face, flashed her a rakish smile, and winked. “Clearly, you’re a stalwart soul—you married me!”

  “You’re being too kind.”

  “Bethy-mine, I’m your husband. The day we took our vows, God made us partners. I’m here for you to lean on. Turn to me when you need help. I think it’s about time for you to decide to do just that.”

  She gave him a wobbly smile. “I did determine one thing today.”

  “Oh?” He looked at her intently, hoping she’d show him a glimmer of trust.

  “I decided how I want to spend my inheritance. I want us to drill a well and have our own pump so I won’t ever have to see another stream or river once we reach Oregon.”

  “I really do like wells,” Bethany declared as she filled yet another bucket. It sloshed over and soaked her dress.

  “Looks to me like wells don’t like you,” Emma Harris teased.

  The women took turns while the men unhitched the oxen and fought to keep them from Vermillion Creek. Rawhide warned that the water wasn’t good, so they were herding the huge beasts to troughs. The good grass helped keep the oxen in the roped corral after they’d been watered. It was only noon, but Rawhide declared they’d take the rest of the day and the next as “lay-bys” so the men could hunt and the women could catch up on chores.

  “After I’ve had a drink, I’ve got laundry to do,” Daisy Sawyer moaned as she rubbed her back with one hand and her very protuberant belly with the other.

  Granny Willodene waggled a gnarled finger at her. “Time’s a-comin’ close for you to have that babe. You’re gonna lay down in the shade and nap with the young’uns. I’ll do your laundry, and your man can go look at my son’s wagon. A wheel’s getting the wiggle-waggles, so it’s a fair trade.”

  “I’ll never see the end of laundry,” the Millberg’s little maid, Katie, murmured.

  Penny and Bethany exchanged a look. The Millberg women didn’t do a thing. Poor Katie cooked, gathered firewood and chips, did the dishes, tended the laundry, and still had to attend to the silly and constant demands made of her. At mealtimes, after she served the Millbergs, she and Dillon Trier sat apart at a small crate because they were lowly hired help.

  “Why don’t we do the laundry together?” Penny suggested.

  “Yes … and why not have a sewing circle tomorrow?” Bethany handed the bucket to Megan. “I have mending to do.”

  Buck Cole lumbered up and shifted his weight from one large foot to the other. “I overheard. I’ve got a heap of laundry to do, too. Fact is, I didn’t bring enough soap, and I plum forgot Prussian blue powder. If you ladies are willing to share, I’ll draw river water into your boiling pots.”

  No one said a word about a backwoods giant knowing about using the powder as laundry bluing. Later he grumbled, “Ain’t fittin’, them asking you to do this.” He reached over and stole Orson Millberg’s underclothes from Katie and scrubbed them himself.

  Later, all of the river-rinsed clothes hung on ropes around the campground. The Sawyer’s laundry was done, and the Barneses’ wagon boasted a repaired wheel. Josh rode up on Tonic and swept Bethany right off her feet. She gave a surprised little yelp, and his laughter filled the air as they galloped off.

  “What are you doing?”

  He chuckled. “I’m kidnapping you. It’s time we got away on our own.”

  The next morning, the men got ready to go hunting. Josh had done guard duty all night and, though he would have enjoyed hunting, decided to nap awhile first. When he awoke, he scowled at the sound of Bert Cole talking to Bethany. After his romantic abduction yesterday, Josh felt sure Bethany understood he loved her. He’d even begun to hope she loved him back. She served him flapjacks every other morning, and at least once a week, she arranged for them to share a private supper. So what was she doing, entertaining another man?

  Josh hustled out of the wagon, ready to glower at his wife and blister Bert’s ears, but he stopped in his tracks. Several of the women sat in a circle. Bert Cole had managed to wedge himself between Megan Crawford and Penny on a bench. A big giant of a man, he looked ridiculous with his elbows winged out and crowding the girls, stitching a button on an old shirt. “Done,” he declared then bit the threaded needle loose from the shirt.

  A second later, he glanced up. “Hey, Doc! I’m done with my chores. What say you and me take a hike over yonder? I set some snares, and I’m thinking we might get lucky.”

  Feeling guilty for harboring unwarranted jealousy and mean feelings for the poor man, Josh rasped, “I’d like that.” He reached into the wagon and got his rifle, and off they went.

  “Ya know, Doc, y
ou and me, we’re the only menfolk who know how to sew.”

  Josh let out a crack of a laugh. “I never thought of it that way. Now that I think of it, I do a fair amount of stitching.”

  “Well, I never woulda thunk it myself. I’m good at it, but it’s ‘cuz Ma made me learn to handle a needle and thread. With the three of us boys, we was goin’ through the elbows and knees of everything we wore. Your bride—she’s one dandy gal. She said you’re a right fine doc—and from the way she glowed, I ‘spect she’s a mite biased in her opinion; but I seen how you set that busted arm and pulled two of them kids through the cholera, and I know she’s not just boasting ’bout her man. Anyhow, in an emergency, your wife said she’d recommend my stitching to you iffen you needed help with suturing a body.”

  Well, well. Maybe I am making progress with my wife.

  Unaware of Josh’s musings, Bert rambled on, “I almost had to sew on all my shirt buttons, ‘cuz they was in danger of all poppin’ off. Right there in front of all them wimmin—and that pretty little Katie Rose—your missus said she figgers a man who can sew could stitch the gal of his choosin’ right into his pocket.” He patted the pocket over his heart.

  “So you’re carrying a torch for the Millbergs’ Irish maid?”

  “She shore is a beauty, but my brother helped her with some of the wash yesterday, and we might could come to blows over her, so we figured we’d best resist temptation. Besides, I seen her and Trier eating together all the time. ‘Cuz I’m not a man to chase another’s gal, I resolved to put her clean outta my mind.”

  Josh remembered those words late that night as he and Bethany snuggled under quilts beneath their wagon. They’d eaten a fine rabbit stew, thanks to the snares Bert set and Bethany’s cookbook. Bethany whispered, “Penny is mad at me. When I got off the bench, Bert sat next to her. She’s ordered me to protect her from his interest.”

  Josh snorted with laughter.

  Bethany poked him in the ribs. “Shh!” She muffled a giggle and whispered, “But the funny part is, not five minutes later, Megan yanked me aside and begged me not to let Bert near her, either. She was positive he’s sweet on her. The next time Papa wants someone to recite, I think Bert ought to do a selection as Romeo!”