Tracy Blalock - Wed On The Wagon Train

Too much was at stake.

And she still didn’t know whether he’d seen through her disguise. Had he discerned more about her than he’d let on? The thought left her unsettled, but she scolded herself not to borrow trouble.

Nonetheless, she had to keep her guard up. Around him and everyone else.

The river current suddenly rocked the ferry, pulling her focus away from the far bank. She tightened her hold on the wagon frame and turned to face west.

It was midafternoon by the time all twenty-five wagons were across the river, and their group made it less than two miles before the wagon master called a halt for the night. After their earlier obstinacy, the oxen seemed to take pity on her and hadn’t balked once on the trail.

At their campsite, the covered wagons were arranged in a circle, and the area inside quickly became a hive of activity and movement. Mattie had to take special care to avoid being trampled by a nervous animal. Or getting in someone’s way. Observing the chaos, she noted that everybody seemed to know what to do.

Except her and Adela.

She didn’t want to stand out as a novice, but belatedly realized she had no idea how to unhitch the oxen. Or what to do with them once they were free of the wagon.

She wasn’t living up to the promise she’d made to Miles Carpenter.

Glancing around, she spotted Josiah. He was occupied with a group of horses, so there would be no help from that quarter.

She’d have to do this on her own. Somehow.

Circumspectly, she watched the other drivers’ actions in order to imitate them. As she moved toward her oxen, she noticed Adela still sat on the bench seat, where she’d insisted on riding all afternoon, despite the uncomfortable jostling as the covered wagon bounced over the rough trail.

“Are you going to get down?”

Tilting her parasol to shade her eyes from the slanting rays of the setting sun, she shook her head. “No. This is the only place to sit.”

Mattie reached for the metal pin securing the nearest oxen’s neck thingamabob to the wooden doodad, which connected him to a second animal. “You don’t need a place to sit right now. You need to get busy starting a fire and cooking supper.” She abandoned her task for a moment to give her sister her full attention. “I can’t do everything myself, Adela. And since I’m taking over the jobs Papa would have handled, it’s up to you to see to the chores around camp that you and I originally planned to share.”

“But I don’t know how to cook,” the younger girl protested. “I don’t even know how to start a fire.”

“You’ll learn.” She wasn’t unsympathetic toward Adela’s plight, but coddling the younger girl would set an unwise precedent. “There’s some wood in that box strapped to the side of the wagon, and the matches are in Papa’s copper tin.”

But still, her sister sat motionless.

“The chores aren’t going to do themselves, and you’re wasting daylight,” Mattie prodded. “Things will be even more difficult to do in the dark.”

Snapping her parasol closed, Adela tossed it into the wagon and clambered down from the high seat.

Mattie breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

“Save your thanks until we see if I can make anything edible,” the younger girl advised.

* * *

After constructing a temporary enclosure to house his horses for the night, Josiah headed toward the circle of wagons. Slipping between the tailgate of one and the tongue of another, he entered the ring and recognized Matt and his sister at the nearest campfire.

The boy squatted, feeding a piece of wood into the crackling flames, while Adela stirred a boiling pot.

“Evening,” Josiah greeted.

Adela turned toward him, the action sending her skirt swinging into the fire.

“Watch out!” Josiah reached forward, intent on pulling her out of harm’s way. But it was too late. The flames ignited the edge of the material.

A series of shrieks filled the air, and the girl’s frantic movements hindered Josiah’s attempts to extinguish the fire by smothering it.

Grabbing a large pan from the tailgate, Matt yanked the cover off the water barrel and filled the container, then tossed the water over his sister’s burning skirts, dousing the flames. “It’s out.”

Silence fell as Adela finally stopped screaming.

Several people had hurried over to see what all the commotion was about, but with the danger now past, they returned to their own campfires.

Everyone except Josiah’s brother and sister-in-law.

Rebecca’s eyebrows knit in concern. “Are you all right?”

Adela looked down at herself. “My dress! It’s ruined.” No pain showed in her expression.

Was that because she was unharmed? Or was she in a state of shock?

Matt grabbed his sister and gave her a slight shake. “Never mind about your dress!” Fear raised his voice an octave higher than normal. “Are you burned?” Not waiting for a response, he lifted the sodden, fire-damaged edge of her skirt, wincing at what he saw. “You already have blisters forming.”

A moan slipped past Adela’s lips as the pain finally registered. “It hurts.”

Elias knelt for a quick look. “I have some salve that will help. I’ll go get it.” He stood and hurried away.

Rebecca took Adela by the arm. “Let me help you into the wagon. I’m sure you’d prefer some privacy while Elias tends to your injury.”

By the time the two women disappeared between the canvas flaps, Elias had returned, and he followed them inside.

Anxiety crossed Matt’s face.

“Don’t worry. My brother’s a doctor. Adela’s in good hands.”

“It’s my fault she got hurt. She’s never cooked over an open fire before, but I made her do it.” Moving toward the pot suspended above the flames, he lifted the spoon.

“She’s not used to this kind of life, but she’ll adapt.”

Matt tipped the spoon, and a large blob plopped back into the pot. “I guess it’s pretty obvious all of this is new to us.”

“Well, her attire was a bit of a clue.” The picture Adela Prescott had made perched on the bench seat, like a queen on her throne, still had Josiah shaking his head.

Though sensibly dressed, in contrast, it was clear Matt was just as much a greenhorn as his sister. But Josiah wouldn’t hurt the boy’s pride by mentioning it.

Yesterday, he’d wondered if the kid was hiding something. Today, he’d gotten his answer. Matt was trying to disguise the fact that he didn’t know how to handle life on the trail.

But he was smart—observing others to learn the skills he lacked—and had successfully unhitched the oxen on his own and herded them to the area where the other animals grazed.

Now he stirred the contents of the pot, poking at the charred chunks floating in a thick, mud-colored liquid.

It wasn’t recognizable as food—at least not to Josiah. “What’s that supposed to be?”

“I’m not sure. It’s Adela’s first attempt at cooking. We had servants back in St. Louis, and she never learned to prepare meals.”

“She’ll get the hang of it once she’s had a bit more experience.” Although, right now, it was a toss-up whether she would improve enough to produce edible meals before the Prescotts starved.

“Well, this is definitely past saving.” Matt dropped the spoon, and the wooden handle landed against the edge of the pot with a dull thud.

“What’s past saving?” Rebecca questioned as she climbed down from the covered wagon, followed by her husband and his patient.

“In all the excitement, their dinner was ruined,” Josiah excused, seeing no need to mention the food had been inedible even before it was scorched.

Eyeing the contents of the pot, Rebecca’s eyebrows arched, but she didn’t challenge his claim. “I left a delicious stew simmering over the fire, and there’s enough to share.”