Dorothy Clark - Prairie Courtship

He gave a grunt of satisfaction, picked up the hammer and extra nails and leaped lightly from the wagon. “The bed is ready, Dr. Allen. Now tell Garth Lundquist to get your oxen hitched. Time is wasting!” He took the sledge from Lewis and strode off toward the Fenton wagon to return the tools to the blacksmith.

Emma stared after him, reading disgust and anger in the rigid line of his broad shoulders, the length and power of his strides. Her own shoulders stiffened with resentment. He made the word doctor sound like an expletive.

Joseph Lewis cleared his throat. “I’ll go fetch Lundquist for you. Have him bring up your teams, Miss…er…”

Emma turned her gaze on him. He flushed, pivoted on his heel and hurried off. “It ain’t Miss, Joseph Lewis! It’s Dr. Allen.”

Emma glanced at Lorna Lewis. The woman was staring after her husband, her face as flushed as his. She tamped down her own anger. “Please, Lorna, do not trouble yourself on my behalf. I do not want to be the cause of discord in your household.”

“Well, it ain’t right, Joseph not givin’ you your rightful due—an’ Mr. Thatcher gettin’ riled at you for holdin’ up the train so’s to keep my baby safe an’…” The woman’s words choked off.

“And nothing, Lorna.” Emma whirled around, her long, ruffled skirts billowing out then rustling softly as she climbed into her wagon. “I care not a fig for Mr. Zachary Thatcher’s opinions or anger. And even less for his orders. As for Mr. Lewis’s reluctance to name me a doctor…I am accustomed to that. Keeping Jenny safe is all that is important. And this wagon will not move until I am satisfied it will do her no harm. Now, give Jenny to me and climb in so we can see what sort of bed Mr. Thatcher has contrived.”

She turned and carried the toddler to the canvas sling hanging lengthwise over the long red box just behind the driver’s seat.

“Well, I never…” Lorna Lewis set the sling swinging.

“Nor I.” Emma handed Jenny to her mother and examined the clever contraption from all angles. “I find no fault in this. It will make Jenny a wonderful bed.” She lined the sling with her pillows, covered them with a blanket then gently placed Jenny on them and folded the sides of the blanket over her.

Chains rattled. An ox snorted, bumped against the wagon in passing, causing the bed to sway gently. “You want I should hitch up now, Miss Allen?”

Emma smiled and stuck her head out of the opening behind the driver’s box. “Yes, hitch up the teams, Mr. Lundquist. We will travel today after all. But drive the oxen carefully, mind you. No hurrying.”

She ducked back inside, pulled a long scarf from a dresser drawer and held it out. “Wrap this twice around both Jenny and the sling, Lorna. Then tie it so Jenny cannot fall out. I will be right back.” She climbed down, lifted the hems of her skirts above the still-wet ground and ran across the oval to check on Anne before the wagons began to roll.

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