Linda Ford - Wagon Train Reunion

But he would never again be so foolish as to think she could care for him.

Chapter Four

With a murmured goodnight, Abby slipped into her tent. Her insides coiled with so many thoughts. Ben had never married. His father had passed away. How hard that must be. Ben had always been close to his father and brother. Grayson wasn’t in the group. Had he stayed behind? That would be a doubly hard goodbye for Ben.

She tumbled the thoughts and questions round and round in her head in an attempt to ignore Rachel’s warning. Her meaning was unmistakable—Don’t hurt my brother.

Abby had no intention of doing so. She’d stay as far away from him as possible. She’d burned that bridge six years ago when she informed him she’d chosen Frank over him. Wanting to cut herself from his thoughts, she said Frank had more to offer—possessions, position, power.

She pressed a hand to her stomach as she thought of the cruel, unkind things he’d given instead.

Ben’s response had been, “I wish you all the best and I trust your marriage vows will mean more to you than the words you spoke to me.”

She knew exactly what he meant. They’d secretly confessed their love to each other. They’d planned to announce it to the world when she turned eighteen. She’d warned him her parents, Mother especially, would object, but had said she wouldn’t let those objections change her mind.

But she had. So much guilt had filled her that she was unable to say no to her mother. Not that Mother would have accepted no. Abby would have been forced to follow her parents’ wishes. Far better to go freely and of her own will, though every yes was filled with pain and regret.

“I see I was wrong to trust you. Good to know now rather than later.” Those were Ben’s parting words.

He’d never trust her again. And she couldn’t blame him.

She, on the other hand, had learned after the fact how easily trust could be given to the wrong person. She would not trust her heart to any man ever again.

In Oregon, she’d start over. No regrets over anything in her past.

She tried to get comfortable on the ground but the waterproof ground cover rumpled underneath her. She finally pushed it aside and hoped it wouldn’t rain.

She’d barely fallen asleep when the sentinels fired their rifles, waking everyone up. They’d been warned they would be called at four in the morning to prepare for departure. Abby hurriedly dressed and rolled up her bedding. She fashioned her hair as best she could then dashed outside.

“Vernon.” Mother’s voice came from her parents’ tent. “I simply cannot survive under these conditions. Why, I don’t even have my mirror. Someone stole it right under the nose of that young Hewitt who is supposed to be guarding us.”

“Hush, Martha, do you want the whole camp to hear your complaints?”

Abby glanced around. Emma and Rachel were already tending the fire and from the looks on their faces, it was obvious they’d heard every word and did not appreciate Mother badmouthing their brother.

Sally crawled from their tent, baby Johnny cradled in one arm. “My, that was a short night. Johnny wouldn’t settle. I did my best to keep him quiet, so he wouldn’t wake the whole camp.” She rushed on at such a rate that Abby knew she meant to turn attention from Mother’s unkind remarks and she silently thanked the woman.

Emma went to Sally’s side. “Do you want me to look at his wound?”

Sally unwrapped the baby in the cool predawn.

Abby slipped away, hopefully unnoticed. She stopped at her parents’ tent. “Mother, do you need help?” she whispered.

Father ducked out. “See if you can settle her down.”

Abby patted his arm. “You look tired.”

He nodded. “She fussed half the night.”

Abby sucked in steadying air and bent over to enter the tent.

Mother sat atop the mussed covers, her legs out in front of her. She had her corset on but looked about ready to cry as she struggled with her dress.

Abby’s heart went out to her. Mother had not welcomed this journey. She didn’t see the challenge as something to embrace. But now Abby saw just how difficult it was going to be for her. Mother was no longer young and had never been one to do physical work.

Abby dropped to her knees to assist. “Let me help you.” She eased the dress over Mother’s head and fastened the buttons. “You’ll get used to all this in no time.”

“I’ll never get used to it.” Mother brushed a blade of grass from her skirt. “It’s dirty and primitive.” She sniffed. “But I don’t intend to likewise be uncouth. Fix my hair and then fetch me some water so I can wash properly. And heavens, see that I get some proper food.”

Abby spoke soothingly as she did her mother’s hair. “Mother, how many times have you told me that a person must set their mind to do what needed to be done and then do it?” Of course, her mother had usually been talking about setting a proper table, or returning an unwelcome visit, but it surely applied here even more.

Mother sniffed. “About as many times as I told you if you made wise choices you wouldn’t have to live with unpleasant consequences.”

Abby chuckled softly, lest her mother fear she laughed at her. But it was amusing, ironic really, that this was the argument she’d used to convince Abby to marry Frank and the consequences had been horrible.

“This, I fear, is an unwise choice and the consequences will be most unpleasant.”

Abby ignored the dire tone of her mother’s words and managed not to shiver. If only Mother would stop making it sound as if they would regret this trip. She finished her mother’s hair. “Mother, the future beckons. We can make it as good or as awful as we choose.”

Abby meant to make the most of it. In Oregon, she would gain her freedom. Somehow she’d convince Mother to let her go so she could follow her heart.

She thought immediately of Ben. But that wasn’t what she had in mind. He was of her past and she meant to put her past—all of it—behind her and start fresh. Wouldn’t Mother be shocked if she knew the things Abby planned?

She crawled from the tent to get water for Mother.

Rachel frowned at her.

Abby looked about to see the reason. Sally tended a skillet of bacon with little Johnny perched on her hip. The baby sobbed softly. Emma checked the coffeepot. Abby knew from the aroma that it had boiled. Rachel stirred a pot of simmering cornmeal mush. A pitcher of milk perched nearby. Abby wondered who had milked the cow.

Abby’s heart sank. She should be helping. Her mother should be helping. Knowing her mother wouldn’t meant Abby should be doing enough for both of them. Instead, the others had prepared breakfast while Abby fussed over her mother.

It wouldn’t happen again. If she must tend Mother she’d do it before time to prepare food or make her mother wait until after the meal. Abby ducked her head lest anyone think she smiled because she’d arranged to miss breakfast. No, her amusement came from imagining Mother being told to wait to have her needs tended to.

Abby glanced about again. She didn’t know how to milk the cow, make the mush or most everything the others did. She vowed she’d learn just as she’d learn to ignore Ben, and the memories that came with his presence.

She looked about, didn’t see him and let out a sigh. Easier to ignore him when he wasn’t there.

Smiling at her private joke, she hurried to take the water to Mother, then rushed back to offer assistance to the other women. “I’ll wash up seeing as I was absent for preparing the meal.”

Sally patted her hand. “We work together as best we can.”

As best we can. At least Sally seemed to understand.

One glance at Rachel and Abby knew she wouldn’t be so accommodating.