Bartered Bride Romance Collection Page 18
“I don’t know it.” She trembled.
“It’s a fine one to learn. Come on, sweetheart. ‘Abide thou with me …’ ”
They made it across with her stammering each phrase after him. Pale and shaken, she looked up at him once their wagon hit ground. “We did it.”
“Yes, we did. You can always rely on God’s help, and you can depend on me, too, Bethy-mine.”
“Thank you,” she whispered as she slipped her hand around his neck and grazed a kiss on his jaw. His heart sang. Instead of paying attention to everyone else or swooning from her fears, she’d depended on him and appreciated his strength. Though he wasn’t glad of her fear, gratitude for the opportunity to earn her trust and love filled him.
As Josh pitched in to help all of the others across, a verse flitted through his mind. “In our weakness is he made strong.” Suddenly, a new sense of God’s love and willingness to support and protect His children overwhelmed Josh. Just as he didn’t mind Bethany’s weakness and wanted to do all he could to give her succor, God willed to do those same things for him.
Someday, if God blessed them, Josh would be that same way with their own children.
Twelve feet of water fell in joyous abandon into a crystalline pool. Bethany sat at the edge and soaked her feet. Being barefoot felt decadent, but all of the women were doing it together after finishing laundry.
Rawhide ordered the men to top off all of their water barrels. Fresh and sweet as it tasted, most men completely emptied their barrels, rinsed, and refilled them at an adjacent pool. Chafed by having to wait for the train ahead of them to cross the Big Blue, Rawhide paced between the men and women, spitting tobacco and grumbling under his breath.
“Alcove Springs.” Emma Harris read the eight-inch-high chiseled words aloud. “One of my books says the Donner party—”
“Hush!” Rawhide rasped. “No one mentions them. Bad luck. Bad luck.” He shook his head, scowled, and stomped off.
Noticing her friend’s crestfallen look, Bethany swept her left foot in the water and splashed her. “You’re going to have to read different material. I have something new—a thing by Beadle called a dime novel. It’s the very first one, written by Ann Stephens, Malaeska. I read it during the storm. Would you like to borrow it?”
“Oh, I’d love to!” Emma’s eyes shone.
“It’s a dashing story,” Penny chimed in.
“Humph,” Lavinia sniffed. “I’ve seen you reading Arabian Nights. That was bad enough. A novel? And it cost a measly dime? Why, I would never read such trash. It’s obviously morally inferior.”
Irritated by Lavinia’s judgmental ways and airs, Bethany pursed her lips then perked up. “There’s Parson Brewster. Perhaps we could ask his opinion on the matter.”
The parson listened then rubbed his chin for a moment before saying, “I’m a firm believer in bettering the soul. If you’ve spent generous time in Bible reading and devotions, though, I trust the Lord wouldn’t frown upon His children improving their minds or lightening their hearts with either educational or pleasure reading.”
“Thank you, Parson Brewster,” Bethany and Penny said in unison.
After he walked off, Lavinia pulled her feet out of the water, stood, and stuck her nose up in the air. “I don’t care. I refuse to sully my mind.”
“At least she’s consistent,” Penny muttered. “She didn’t like sullying her boots, either.”
Bethany flopped backward and dissolved into guilty laughter. “Oh, Penny! That was much nicer than what I was thinking. I wondered if she really has much of a mind at all!” After she stopped laughing, she shielded her eyes from the sun and moaned, “Lavinia might be right: I’d better spend more time reading my Bible. It’s much too easy to be catty.”
Granny Willodene wandered past with some laundry over her arm. She chuckled. “Never thought that honesty was a sin. Does a woman good to speak her mind sometimes. We’re taught always to be nice. Turn the other cheek. Grin and bear it. Well, seems to me that Christ got mighty hot at the temple when folks were doing wrong. He didn’t mince His words with them Pharisees neither. Choose your battles, and keep a kind heart; but don’t let the sourpusses like Lavinia spoil your joys, because if you do, you’ll turn into someone just like her. Find happiness in the ordinary—it makes for a pleasant life and a serene heart.”
Bethany clung to Josh as they took the Independence Crossing over the Big Blue River. “Where to next?” she groaned once the train started moving again. “We’ll travel along the east side of the Little Blue.”
She gave him a disgruntled look. “Who named all of these places ‘Blue’?”
“Someone with no creativity,” Josh quipped. When his lighthearted attempt fell flat, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Not to rub in the word, but are you feeling blue today?”
Suddenly, the spot on the hem of her apron demanded her full attention. Josh watched as she tried to smear away the smudge. He tilted his head forward to see past the brim of her sunbonnet and noticed her cheeks carried an unexpected flush.
“Bethany? What is it?”
“You’ve mentioned children.” She paused then blurted out, “Not this month.”
He stayed silent for a few moments then stroked her upper arm. “We have plenty of years ahead of us. The next months are going to be difficult on everyone—speaking both as your husband and as a doctor, I’m just as happy for you not to be in the family way yet.”
She gave him a stricken look. “I thought you wanted children!”
“I do. I’m looking forward to a houseful of them, and you’ll be a wonderful mother. For now, it’s nice for us to have time together, alone.”
“Oh.”
He couldn’t interpret her reaction. Was she simply surprised, or was she disappointed? Before he could pursue the issue, Penny came over and started to tag along, just like she had when she was a five-year-old pest. She chattered about Anna Schmitt gossiping about Megan Crawford and how Megan was a really nice girl who promised to teach them a new crochet stitch that night. Within seconds, Bethany livened up.
Josh withdrew his arm. Bethany didn’t even seem to notice.
Chapter 10
They traveled along the east side of the Little Blue and halted for a day at the Hanover Pony Express stop. “Can you imagine?” Rawhide switched his wad of tobacco to the opposite cheek and continued, “The day after we left, the first Pony Express reached Caly-forny. They’re a-running slick as cain be.”
Papa brightened. “Excellent. It’ll be no time at all before we’ll have dependable mail service back to Boston so I can correspond with other scholars.”
Everyone took advantage of the mail delivery and wrote letters home. Most sent several letters to friends and relatives. Bethany sent a single missive to Mrs. Throckmorton. The next day, they traveled fifteen more miles to the Holenberg station. Again, folks sat around chewing on pencil stubs and scribbling notes to loved ones. Bethany used some of her Baker’s chocolate powder and Rumford baking powder to make three cakes.
“Sweetheart, wouldn’t you like to send a letter to your uncle?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Last I heard, he planned to tour Europe. I have no idea where he is.”
“I’m sure he’d welcome a letter waiting for him when he gets back.”
She shook her head. “I wrote him faithfully for years. He never responded.”
“Never?”
“Well, I did get one letter.” She scooped more coals onto the dutch oven so the cakes would bake evenly. “When I told him of your proposal, he sent the note that he’d instructed one of his workers to acquire the wagon and oxen for us. When that man delivered them, he mentioned Uncle would be out of the country.”
He tipped her face up to his. Instead of saying a word, he gave her a soft-as-spring-rain kiss. Her whole life had been devoid of gentle love and affection. He was more than willing to shower her with all of the care and attention she needed.
When they reached Rock Creek Sta
tion, Josh didn’t bother to ask Bethany if she had anything she wanted to mail home. Instead, he sat beside her as she sewed. He’d learned if she curled one leg up beneath herself, she was content. He’d come to share the bench with her and smiled to himself as he watched her absently slip into that catlike position. “What are you doing?”
She bit a length of white thread from a spool and spoke slowly as she concentrated on threading her needle, “Your shoulders are getting broader. I’m letting out your shirts.”
“We can buy some supplies here if you need anything.”
Her eyes sparkled as she whispered, “Rawhide warned us not to. Mr. McCanless watches who spends a lot or dresses well. Then he charges more as they cross his toll bridge.”
Though he’d heard the same, Josh enjoyed her animation, so he asked, “How much more could he charge?”
“Anywhere from ten to fifty cents per wagon!”
“That’s quite a range. Then again, the stage comes here.”
“I heard. Eloise Bearnoo is going back East on it instead of heading on to California. She says she’s sick of being dirty, thirsty, and tired.”
“You’re heartier than that.” He gave her an approving grin. “Tell you what: You might not be able to get some of the items later on the trail that they sell here. Go on in and get whatever we need. We’ve been out of eggs for a while. Get as many as you can.”
She perked up. “Putting them in the cornmeal kept them from breaking till I used them up. I can do that again.”
“Sure enough. Buy as many as they’ll sell. Maybe get a little something special for Papa since his birthday’s next week. I’ll go speak with Mr. McCanless.”
That afternoon, Orson Millberg blustered as he paid a full dollar to get both of his wagons across the bridge. Bethany scooted so close, she was practically inside Josh’s shirt as he drove their wagon across. McCanless waved them, Papa, the parson, and the Coles’ wagons across without asking for a dime.
As they stopped for the night, Parson Brewster walked up and shook Josh’s hand. “That was kind of you—unnecessary, but kind.”
“Appreciate your fine sermons. Seems like the least we could do.”
Moments later gunfire sounded. Everyone gawked as Bert and Buck Cole wandered over to the Rogerses’ wagon carrying five writhing rattlesnakes. “We reckon we’d like to repay your generosity today. We brung supper.”
Rattlesnake, Josh decided that night, was a fine meal. It didn’t taste half bad. Better still, as Bert fried it in two big pans, Bethany refused to leave Josh’s side. To her relief, she hadn’t found a recipe for preparing snake in the Great Western Cook Book. Best of all, Penny couldn’t even sit at the supper table; and after the meal was done and folks left, Josh got to spend the rest of the evening just how he wanted to: without Penny or Papa hovering, completely alone with his wife.
Bethany shoved her bonnet back and wiped perspiration from her brow. Mrs. Throckmorton would be mortified to see any of her young ladies in such a deplorable state. When they’d learned about the trail, some of the more basic truths got left out—like the fact that the Platte River was so shallow and muddy, they hadn’t had fresh drinking water in days … so bathing and laundry were impossible. Add to that, she’d eaten rattlesnake twice in the last week, and Josh seemed to be losing his wits because he raved over what a delicacy it was.
A good wife unquestioningly follows her husband … but why can’t Josh lead me to a big bathtub and pork chops?
As if he’d read her thoughts, he said, “We ought to make Fort Kearney late tomorrow.”
Bethany held out hope until she spied the fort. Instead of the orderly military installation she expected, the plot of land was dotted with the saddest collection of ramshackle buildings she’d ever seen. Most of the buildings were soddies, and the soldiers lounging around them needed haircuts, razors, and baths even more than the pioneers. Almost a dozen men in patched uniforms went from wagon to wagon, offering, “I’ll pay ya a dollar fer a half pint of whiskey.”
The wagon train before them bought out most of the supplies at the store, so the stop barely seemed worthwhile. Upset that she’d find no respite here, Bethany tried not to reveal her feelings. Josh sat beside her and gave her a searching look. “Don’t be so upset, sweetheart. We’re doing fine—especially since you stocked up back at Rock Creek.”
She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from crying and bobbed her head in agreement. Later, as she tried to hide her tears, the biscuits burned again.
“Wait a second. I need that bucket.” Bethany ran up to Josh before he watered the oxen. She leaned over the bucket and carefully slid two eggs into the water and held her breath. Both bobbed beneath the surface, and she let out a sigh.
“Fresh or spoiled?”
She plucked them out of the water and didn’t even mind getting her cuffs wet. It helped cool her off a bit. “Neither. They’ll do for baking, though.”
“We can’t spare much water,” he warned.
“I know. I’ll use a can of Borden’s condensed milk and fix custard.” Josh started to water the oxen. “I’m not keen on you using that canned milk. The Millbergs got sick on their canned lobster and East India sweetmeats.”
“I already promised Papa I’d make it.”
Josh slammed the empty bucket onto the sandy soil. “Does it ever occur to you to consult with me?”
Hurt, Bethany stepped backward and stared at him. He continued to glower at her, so she figured he expected an answer. “You took guard duty last night, and this morning you paid a call on Jeremiah to take off his cast.”
His jaw jutted out as he shifted his gaze toward the rolling sandy hills. “Fine. Keep your word.”
The rest of the day played out in silence. Papa and Penny raved about the custard. Josh and Bethany barely swallowed a bite. The rest remained in their bowls, and she finally scraped it out for the dogs.
“Let not the sun go down upon your wrath.” The verse played through Bethany’s mind. She couldn’t very well go to bed and sleep next to Josh with this dreadful tension between them. She summoned her nerve and went to speak to him.
“Josh?”
“What?” he snapped as he smeared grease on the axles.
“I thought maybe we ought to talk—”
“Hey, Doc?” Rawhide strode toward them. “Some of the kids in the Caly-forny group are getting croupy. Can you go see to ’em?”
“Sure.” He climbed into the wagon, grabbed his bag, and stomped off.
Bethany scrambled into the wagon and whispered tearfully to herself, “He didn’t even kiss me good-bye.”
Josh was gone all night. The next morning, the party prepared to cross the Platte. Less than a foot deep, its sandy bottom could give way and cause a wagon to tip. Men carefully took poles and staked out a passage across the mile-wide river. Bethany kept watching her husband, but he never once looked back at her.
Weary beyond belief, Josh could hardly wait to tumble into the quilts. Two nights without sleep rated as a challenge back when he practiced medicine in Boston. Here, with hard physical labor all day, it tested his mettle. He plopped down at the supper table and barely tasted whatever kind of meat Bethany and Penny cooked.
“Music tonight, don’t you think, Josh?”
He lifted his head and blinked at Penny.
She waved her hand dismissively at him. “Never mind. I’ll just take Bethany with me. Mr. Green plays the fiddle divinely.”
“I’d be pleased to escort you ladies,” Papa said gallantly. “Penny and I will go get wraps and be back momentarily.”
Josh waited until they left and shoved away from the table so forcefully, the bench he’d been sitting on fell backward. “So are you going?”
Bethany’s eyes widened.
“Well?” he demanded.
“I—I guess so.” She climbed into the wagon to get her shawl.
He followed her and found her hunched over her trunk, muttering. “What’re you grousing about?”
“No.” He bit out the word and shook his head emphatically. “You’re not.”
His harsh words nearly tumbled her into the trunk. She slammed down the lid and turned back to him. “I mend and wash your clothes. I make decent meals. I’m kind to your family. I’ve helped you with patients. I don’t know what you want! Tell me what you want!”
“I want you!”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“If you don’t know, then this conversation is pointless.”
She placed her hands on her hips. “Josh!”
He jammed his fingers through his hair in a single, vicious swipe. “Forget it. Just forget it. I’m too tired to deal with this.”
“But—”
“Just go listen to the music. I need to sleep.” He grabbed a quilt, climbed out of the wagon, and bedded down. As exhaustion claimed him, he could hear the plaintive notes of Homer Green’s fiddle.
Chapter 11
Granny?” Bethany drew her shawl closer and whispered in the old woman’s ear, “Could you spare a moment?” Granny passed the child on her lap to her daughter-in-law and stood. Neither of them spoke as they walked away from the campfire and music.
Barely a note of the music reached Bethany’s ear. She’d been sitting there, pondering Joshua’s words and the anger behind them. None of it made sense to her; but since she hadn’t grown up in a family or around men, his behavior baffled her. “Seek wise counsel.” The words from Proverbs threaded through her mind, and she’d chosen the one older woman in the group she trusted.
Granny led her past the circle of wagons, waved off Homer Green as he strode his night watch, and settled into a sandy bank with a muffled grunt. Bethany joined her. “You and your man havin’ a set-to?”