Baby on the Oregon Trail Read online

  “All right,” she said slowly. “What do I have to do?”

  “Ride Devil. I’ll teach you how to mount and sit that horse like a queen. Maybe even canter around the inside of the wagon circle. How about it?”

  She bit her lip. “I can’t. I have to help Jenna do the laundry.”

  He glanced over at the fire where a bucket of water sat heating balanced on two flat stones. “How about a lesson right now, before her wash water gets hot?”

  “Well...”

  “A man sure notices a girl who can master a horse.”

  “Ummmm.” Her gaze darted to Devil, grazing on the other side of the wagon. “What if I fall off?”

  “If you’re smart you won’t fall off, unless Jimmy is there to pick you up. And I know you’re smart, Tess. It’s time you put your brain to good use.”

  “Well...” He could see her hesitation, but both she and Mary Grace should know how to ride, not to impress the Gumpert boy but because the girls needed to know how to handle a horse. On a long journey like this, you never knew what you might run into.

  Tess tossed the dish towel onto the wagon wheel, snatched it up again, folded it deliberately and laid it back down. “All right, teach me.”

  Lee showed her how to climb up on Devil’s back using a fallen log as a mounting block; then he led the horse around in a circle and finally let her ride on her own. He’d never seen a smile that wide on Tess’s usually sour face.

  When they walked back into camp, Jenna looked up from her washboard. “Where have you two been?” she demanded.

  “Working,” Lee said quickly.

  “Working?” She eyed Tess with suspicion. “At what?”

  Lee stepped in close to her. “Leave her be, Jenna,” he said in a quiet voice. “She’s learning to ride. I think it might sweeten her up a bit.”

  Jenna’s dark eyebrows went up. “Oh?”

  “I’ll help with the laundry,” Tess volunteered.

  Jenna’s eyebrows rose even farther. “Thank you, Tess. I could use some help. Perhaps Mr. Carver will help, as well.” She waited, letting a little smile play around her mouth.

  “Uh, well, sure. What do you need?”

  “Your trousers,” she announced. “And your shirt and your under—” She stopped. Lee wore no drawers, she recalled.

  “And your socks,” Tess added with a sly smile. Jenna stared at her stepdaughter. She had never seen Tess say anything remotely teasing. Was it possible the girl was softening?

  She and Tess took turns scrubbing dresses and camisoles and petticoats and Lee’s jeans and shirts over the corrugated tin washboard until their knuckles were red and raw. Tess didn’t say a word while they worked, but Jenna noted that she didn’t snipe or complain, either. Maybe Lee had wrought some sort of miracle.

  Lee lugged the bucket of wet garments down to the stream to rinse and Mary Grace helped wring out the clothes and drape them over huckleberry bushes and low tree limbs.

  Late in the afternoon, Jenna returned to gather up the dry garments, loading them into her arms until she could scarcely see over the pile of clean clothes. She took care to avoid tripping over rocks and hillocks of grass. The load wasn’t heavy, but her body was growing ungainly, her movements awkward.

  Keeping her eyes on the ground ahead of her she finally stumbled into camp.

  Lee stopped repairing a frayed rope and went to lift the garments out of her arms, but she halted abruptly, her gaze focused on something behind him. Her face went white and with a cry she backed away.

  “Randall!” she said, her voice shrill. “What are you doing here?”

  “Looking for you,” a male voice grated from behind Lee. “And I’ve had a devil of a time finding you.”

  “But...but why? You know I don’t want—”

  “I’ve been halfway to hell and back, searching every wagon train out of Independence.”

  Jenna’s mouth snapped shut and her lips tightened. Her face became a mask.

  Before Lee could react, the stranger strode past him and gripped her shoulders. He was tall, very lean, with a hawk-like face under his black Stetson. He wore dark dust-covered trousers and a tooled leather vest over his shirt.

  And a holstered .45 revolver under his coat. Instantly Lee quietly backed up two steps and slipped under the wagon, where he’d hidden his rifle.

  Jenna’s voice came to him over the pounding in his ears. “Randall, I cannot believe you are acting as if you had a right to—”

  “I have a right, Jenna. You’re carrying my—”

  “No! You mustn’t think that.”

  “Don’t lie to me.”

  Lee heard her gasp and her voice hardened. “Randall, let me go.”

  “No. I’m never letting you go, you hear me? Never.”

  Lee eased out from under the wagon, stood upright and lifted his Winchester. “Take your hands off her, mister.”

  The man froze but didn’t move. “Yeah? Who says so?”

  “I do. Name’s Carver. I said take your hands off her.”

  The tall man lifted his hands from Jenna’s shoulders and pivoted to face Lee, his right hand resting on his holstered revolver.

  Lee gestured with his rifle. “Don’t even think about it.” He watched the stranger hesitate. “Just who are you?” he demanded.

  “Randall Morgan. This woman belongs to me.”

  “Like hell she does. This woman belongs to no one but her husband. Where’s your horse?”

  “Behind the lead wagon, but I’m not leaving.”

  Lee raised his rifle. “You’re leaving, all right. Do it slow, with your hand off your weapon.”

  Morgan said nothing, but he lifted his hand away from the revolver.

  “Move!” Lee barked. Morgan moved away a few feet, then turned his head and spoke over his shoulder. “You haven’t seen the last of me, Jenna.”

  “Oh, yes she has, mister. You come back here and I’ll kill you.”

  “Just go away, Randall,” she cried. “Please.”

  He said nothing, just gave her a long look, touched his hat brim and stalked past Lee without looking at him.

  Lee followed him to his horse, keeping his rifle trained on his back. Behind the lead wagon, Morgan mounted a tired-looking roan gelding with bulging, worn saddlebags and stepped it away, then suddenly twisted in the saddle and sent Lee a long, hard look. Then he kicked the horse into a trot and rode off.

  Lee watched until he was out of sight, then lowered the rifle and went to find Sam. How the hell had the wagon master allowed a stranger to search among the emigrants for Jenna?

  Chapter Sixteen

  When Lee returned, the camp was deserted, the pile of laundry Jenna had gathered nowhere in sight. He unloaded the rifle, stowed the weapon in its hiding place under the wagon carriage, then checked the interior.

  The clean clothes had been sorted into piles. His mind churning, he lifted his neatly folded jeans and shirts and stuffed them into his saddlebag, trying not to think about Jenna and the look on her face when she saw Morgan.

  His fists clenched. Deliberately he flexed his fingers, extracted his pocketknife, and went in search of something to whittle on. Deep inside lurked a yawning uneasiness. He didn’t like seeing Jenna frightened. In spite of all the hardships and uncertainties she’d endured, he’d never before seen her genuinely frightened.

  He worked away at the block of cedar in his grasp until Jimmy Gumpert appeared. “Golly, where is everybody?”

  “You mean Tess?”

  “Yeah, I guess so. Where is she?”

  Lee shrugged. “Don’t know, exactly. Maybe down at the creek.”

  “Nope. Been there. You know somethin’, Mr. Carver?”

  “What?”

  “Girls can drive y
ou crazy.”

  Lee gave a harsh laugh. “Women can drive you crazy, too.”

  “Well, whaddya do about it? I mean, how are you s’posed to act around them?”

  “Damned if I know, son. Why not ask your pa?”

  “Heck, no! Pa’s never even figured out my ma. You’d think he would have by now, huh? They’ve been married for fifteen years.”

  “Jimmy, I gather you want Tess to like you.”

  “Yessir. You got any ideas?”

  Lee suppressed a groan. “If I had any ideas about how to get a female to like me, I’d be a rich man and a lot happier.”

  “Yeah, me, too.”

  “Actually, Jim, I do have one idea.”

  “Whazzat?”

  “Just stick close to her. Don’t have to say much, just be there. Don’t push her. Maybe play your guitar.”

  “Don’t see how that’s gonna help. I can’t play it too good yet.”

  Lee sighed. “You don’t have to, son. Just be there.”

  All through supper he tried to follow his own advice. Jenna spoke to him as she always did, direct and polite, but there was no warmth. No humor.

  And no smile, not even a single hint of one. She wouldn’t meet his eyes, either. The air between them was thick with something dark and turbulent; it made his gut feel like knives were slicing into it, cutting deep and twisting in his vitals. She’d retreated someplace far away from him.

  He’d lost her.

  * * *

  Jenna hated feeling this way. Randall had destroyed her once, and she would not, could not, allow it to happen again. Thank the Lord the girls had spent the afternoon with Sophia Zaberskie; she could never explain Randall Morgan to them.

  Or to Lee. Oh, God, Lee. She couldn’t bear to look at him and see the accusation in his eyes. She wanted to talk to him, wanted to watch his eyes follow her around camp and darken when her gaze met his the way they usually did. But she could not utter a word. Randall had caught up with her, and now nothing, nothing would ever be right.

  She couldn’t lie next to Lee under the wagon tonight; she just couldn’t. Instead she would take a blanket from the wagon and go...where? Could she sleep by herself down by the stream? Or maybe among the animals inside the wagon circle? She hesitated. A restless ox or a cow could trample her, and Dr. Engelman had warned about being extra-careful.

  She decided she would wait until she was positive Lee was asleep and then edge under the wagon and lay out her quilt as far away from him as she could get.

  She sat by the fire until the last coals turned to ash and her head was lolling toward her chest, then gathered the blanket around her and crept quietly to the wagon.

  Lee’s deep, even breathing told her he was sleeping. Very quietly she took off her shoes, worked her way under the wagon and rolled herself up in the quilt. Then she closed her eyes and let the tears come, stuffing her fist against her mouth to stifle the sobs racking her body.

  She had made a terrible mistake. Two mistakes. Marrying Mathias had been wrong. As clumsy and thoughtless as he’d been, he had not deserved a wife who did not care for him, a wife who carried another man’s child.

  She hated herself. She had ruined her life, and it was all her own fault. She had been headstrong and stubborn and prideful. She had sinned with Randall just once, but it had been enough to snare her in a web of her own weaving.

  She wept until her head ached and her eyes and nose were so swollen she could scarcely breathe. Tears rolled across her temple, across her cheeks and on down her neck. She closed her eyes.

  Dear God, help me. Please, please, help me.

  A hand touched her, lifted her head and pulled her blanket-wrapped body next to one that was hard and warm. Lee’s arms came around her and a hand pushed her head down against his shoulder.

  And all the time he said nothing. Not one word. No accusation, no anger, no disapproval. Nothing. She didn’t understand, but she was grateful beyond measure.

  * * *

  In the morning Tess stood at the fire pit beside Lee, stabbing a fork at the bacon sizzling in the iron skillet. “How come Jenna’s not cooking breakfast?” she said, her tone petulant. “She’s supposed to take care of us, not you.”

  Lee faked surprise. “You think I can’t cook?” he joked. “I cooked breakfast the first morning I joined your wagon, remember?”

  “You’re not supposed to cook for us. You’re supposed to drive our wagon. Where is Jenna, anyway?”

  “Jenna is asleep. She had a bad night, didn’t get to sleep until almost dawn.”

  “Is she sick?”

  “Not exactly. She’s...upset.”

  “What about? We already know she’s gonna have a baby.” Tess scowled down at the curling bacon strips. “It’s too late to be upset about that.”

  Lee nodded. “Yeah, maybe.”

  And maybe not. Jenna was wrestling with something else, something brought on by Morgan’s appearance yesterday. Her nerves were strung up tight, and he knew she wouldn’t want the girls to see her like that. She probably thought it would undermine her authority with her stepdaughters. Given Tess’s reaction this morning, maybe she was right.

  Sam Lincoln stopped by. “We’ll be pulling out today after breakfast,” the wagon master said. He shook his head at Lee’s offer of coffee. “We’ll pick up the trail and press on to Fort Caspar.”

  Sam made no mention of Morgan. Lee had already questioned him and discovered that apparently Morgan had sneaked past the wagon master to search for Jenna on his own. Damned snake had probably followed every wagon train out of Independence.

  Mary Grace and Ruthie appeared, their faces wet and shiny from washing up at the stream, gobbled down the bacon and leftover biscuits from last night’s supper, then helped Tess wash up the tin plates.

  Lee filled the water barrel and yoked up the oxen while Mary Grace fed a double handful of oats to Devil; then he sent the girls to ask Jimmy Gumpert to walk beside the wagon with them when they got under way.

  When the girls had left camp, he crawled under the wagon, rolled up his pallet and shook Jenna awake. “You’re riding inside today,” he announced.

  She’d cried enough last night to give her one helluva headache, and she was so groggy she just nodded. He lifted her into his arms, quilt and all, walked to the back of the wagon and loaded her through the bonnet as gently as he could.

  “You want some coffee?” he asked.

  “No,” she rasped. “It would make me sick.” She spoke with her eyes closed, and Lee noted that her lids were red and swollen.

  “Where are the girls?”

  “I sent them to the Gumpert wagon to get Jimmy.”

  “Did they eat any breakfast?”

  “They did. Tess cooked it.”

  Her eyebrows rose and then she nodded, but her eyes looked funny. Distant, the way soldiers looked after a battle. She was retreating into herself. He had to keep her talking.

  “Tess is growing up fast,” he said as conversationally as he could manage. “She’s learning to ride, did she tell you that?”

  Jenna shook her head.

  “Girls can be surprising,” he said. “Don’t give up on Tess.”

  She said nothing.

  “Don’t give up on yourself, either, Jenna.”

  He saw her tears well up again. He reached out to touch her shoulder, but the sound of the girls’ chatter outside stopped him, and he backed out of the wagon.

  “Is Jenna in there?” Mary Grace asked.

  “She is. She’s not feeling well this morning, so she’s going to ride inside today. Ruthie, you come up on the bench with me.”

  He nodded to Jimmy Gumpert. “Jim, you watch over the girls, will you?”

  “Yessir, I sure will.”

  Lee took R
uthie’s hand and walked to the front of the wagon where the yoked oxen waited, hoisted the girl onto the bench and climbed up beside her. When he lifted the reins, he heard choking sobs from inside the wagon, and his gut tightened.

  One by one the wagons fell into a long line that snaked along a meandering stream. Today the Borland wagon dropped back one position, but that still left Mick McKernan behind them.

  Lee had a bad feeling about McKernan, which was one reason he wanted Jimmy to walk with the girls. He’d cautioned the boy to keep up, but he hadn’t told him why.

  At their noon stop near a grove of cottonwoods, Jenna emerged from the wagon and walked unsteadily out of camp to splash cold water on her swollen face. Her eyes ached and her temples throbbed.

  Tess and Mary Grace made sandwiches of biscuits and bacon, and Lee boiled some coffee. When Jenna returned, he handed her a cup without a word and sat her down on the apple crate.

  She shook her head at Mary Grace’s offer of a biscuit sandwich, and when Jimmy and Mary Grace went off with Ruthie to sit in the shade of an alder tree, she tried to swallow some of the coffee.

  Tess stomped around camp with short, jerky motions, obviously resentful about something. Maybe having to help out.

  Lee took his cup of coffee and left camp. Just as well, Jenna thought. It wasn’t anger she felt radiating from him; it was something far more somber, something thick and heavy, and it frightened her. Or it would, if she let herself feel anything. She prayed the numbness she felt would never wear off. Lee returned, but she still couldn’t look at him, and she couldn’t bear to talk about anything with the girls, not even Ruthie. All that afternoon she rode curled up on a quilt inside the wagon, trying not to think.

  The trail turned rough, and the jolting brought back her headache. The pain was insignificant compared to the searing ache in her heart.

  Late in the afternoon the wagon train slowed and rumbled to a stop at Fort Caspar. Lee climbed down and sent Ruthie off with Jimmy and the girls to inspect the few buildings at the fort. Then he busied himself building a cook fire and waited for Jenna to come back to life.

  Chapter Seventeen

  At dusk, Jenna finally climbed down from the wagon, her motions so slow Lee wondered if she had downed more of the medicinal whiskey. He couldn’t blame her, but it would sure make it harder to find out what he wanted to know. He focused on the half-carved horse he was whittling.