Bartered Bride Romance Collection (22 page)

Josh thought everyone in their circle looked hale. Both of the other circles belonging to their train had folks who hacked with consumptive coughs. He made a mental note to stock up on more eucalyptus and cherry bark.

Once their group finished the round of introductions, the menfolk seemed antsy to get out and see to matters. On the other hand, Josh noted how the women kept chattering and working at getting to know one another. The division seemed pretty clear: Most of the men were eager; most of the women worried about what lay ahead. He didn’t want Bethany to fret, so he shot her a bolstering smile.

“Rawhide” banged on a post and gained everyone’s attention. “Enough of the palavering. Weather’s looking good, the prairie grass is four inches high so the oxen will have plenty to eat, and the mud on the trail’s hardening. Since everyone has already mustered, we’ll leave Thursday at daybreak.”

“At least give us one more day—make it Friday,” Mr. Millberg demanded in an officious tone.

“Nope.” Rawhide turned his head to the side and spat a stream of tobacco into a brass spittoon. Without missing a beat, he added, “Friday’s the thirteenth. Call me a superstitious heathen, but I ain’t gonna set out on a day like that, and if we wait till Saturday, another train will set out ahead of us. Their livestock will eat the grass and foul the water.”

“That part I agree with,” said Parson Brewster diplomatically.

Rawhide smacked his gloves on his thigh in acknowledgment. “All of you are to bring your wagons and beasts to the edge of the west pasture by noon tomorrow at the latest. The Coles and I will guard them for you. Remember—pack for survival, not sentiment.”

Bethany hopped up and tugged on Josh’s arm. “We’d better hurry! He just cut our time in half.”

Chapter 3

C
areful!” Josh drew Bethany closer as they walked down the rowdy streets of Independence, back toward the hotel. They’d just finished wedging the last of their supplies into the wagon. “I have to hand it to you, Bethy-mine. You jammed more into that prairie schooner than I could have believed possible.”

She smiled up at him. “I think we work well together. It felt right, making those difficult choices as a team.”

Accompanied by his big yellow mutt, Parson Brewster came toward them. He hefted a small crate of supplies and said, “We’ll move out at dawn tomorrow. I’m inviting everyone to meet by my wagon for a quick word of prayer before we start.”

Josh gave Bethany’s hand a squeeze. “My wife and I will be there.”

The next morning, he held her hand again as folks gathered together to ask God’s blessing on their journey. The feel of his strong hand clasping hers and the first golden rays of sunlight made Bethany feel this adventure was blessed. Afterward, she scampered to their wagon while the men listened to a few last-minute details from the guide. She quickly attached the ribbon streamers and bunches of wildflowers she’d gathered to the back and sides of the wagon.

Penny brought over a sign that sent them both into giggles. Josh came over, took one look, and chuckled as he tacked it over the dish box.
T
IED THE
K
NOT AND
U
N
-A
FRAY
-ED
.

It temporarily covered the golden caduceus Bethany had painted on the wagon. “A traveling shingle of sorts,” she’d told Josh with a shy smile. His pleasure at that tiny gesture warmed her heart.

The second Penny had seen their pretty-colored wagon, she’d dashed off to the mercantile and returned with a bucket of paint. That wagon now sported a coat of blue paint, and several spatters dotted the wheel spokes, giving them an odd likeness to robins’ eggs.

Penny glanced ahead at her wagon then back at the other wagons. She moaned as she read the crudely lettered OREGON OR BUST the Cole brothers had painted on their wagon’s canopy.

“Sis, don’t you dare say a thing to them,” Josh teased. “They just might start admiring the blue paint job you did and hire you to—”

“Bethany,” she interrupted, “let’s walk together.”

“No, my bride’s going to ride with me this morning.” Josh slipped his hand about Bethany’s waist and snuggled her to his side. “We’ve been racing about for the past few days. It’s time to take a breather.”

“I’d like that,” Bethany whispered.

The road away from Independence was so wide, the wagons lined up twelve abreast to leave. Folks shouted out with glee as Rawhide gave the order to set in motion.

“This is going to take some getting used to.” Josh braced Bethany as she nearly slid off the seat after another jolt. They’d been riding almost half an hour, and every yard brought another bump.

“I read the ride would be jarring.”

“You like to read a lot?”

“Oh, yes. Do you?”

He smiled at her. “When I have the time.” Josh looked at the oxen again and said, “Papa grieved at selling off the library, but the books were too heavy to bring. All I have are Marcy’s
The Prairie Traveler
, my Bible, and a half dozen medical books.”

“Your father has a whole library memorized. I’ve never known anyone who could recite so many pieces. It’s enthralling.”

“I suppose it’s not uncommon for an English professor to know so much, but he and Penny both have the gift of oration.”

He shot her a quick glance. “I saw a few books in your trunk. What were they?”

She waved her hand dismissively. “Nothing much. Whoops!” She jounced into him. “You’re going to need to doctor yourself for all the bruises I’m causing, crashing into you!”

Josh didn’t press her about her choice of reading material, though he felt a stab of curiosity. The fact of the matter was, he and his bride needed to get to know one another. He moved on to a new topic. “When did you milk a goat?”

“When I was twelve, Mrs. Throckmorton arranged for me to spend Christmas with some of her relatives. I learned all sorts of wondrous things about animals. Other than last December with Penny and Papa and you, it was the best Christmas I remember.”

Penny and Papa and you. She stuck me last on the list
.

“I thought Lady Macbeth was easier to milk this morning.”

Josh squinted to look past the oxen to the rear of his father’s wagon. Papa had roped Lady Macbeth to it. “She’s ambling along nicely. With all of this dust, she won’t be white by noon.”

“Neither will the milk.” Bethany twisted backward and pulled a jar from a small bucket she’d hung behind their seat. As she let him peep beneath the wet dishcloth, Bethany chirped, “All of this jostling will turn it into buttermilk!”

“I’ve never had much of a liking for buttermilk, but I relish buttermilk flapjacks.”

“Do you mind if I give one of the families with lots of children the extra buttermilk then make flapjacks later in the week? I have a menu all worked out for the next two days.”

“Fine.” He braced her as she turned to put the jar away. “Hold tight. Bump ahead.”

Bethany pivoted and slipped her arms around him. The sweet scent of her honeysuckle perfume made him hold her even closer. Charmed by her self-conscious giggle, Josh brushed a kiss on her cheek and patted her before he let go. “Best put on your sunbonnet, Sweet Beth. The sun’s starting to sneak over the top of our wagon.”

As she tied the ribbons in a jaunty bow beneath her chin, his bride said, “I didn’t know you disliked buttermilk. I recall from Christmas that you have a hearty appetite and prefer apples to cranberries. Tell me more about what you do and don’t fancy.”

“Everything you put in the food supplies looked good to me. You brought stuff I’ve never seen before.”

“Oh, when I came back from Christmas without Penny because she was going on the trail, Mrs. Throckmorton used her upcoming adventure as a school project. We researched food, weather, and geography. Once you wrote and proposed, the cook went to the shipyard and train station to select the freshest fruits and vegetables from Florida, the islands, and South America. Everyone helped me preserve them. Mrs. Throckmorton and the girls have been like my family.” She gestured ahead. “But now Penny and Papa and you are my real family.”

Josh nodded. He didn’t say a word.

Bethany almost wished she’d walked with Penny, after all. Conversing with Joshua wasn’t very easy. For the past four days, they’d had plenty to talk about and do. Now that they were all set and traveling, she came to a disquieting realization: she’d married a man she barely knew. She drew her cocoa-colored kerseymere shawl about her shoulders—as much to hide her shudder as to fight the April chill.

“Cold?”

“A little.” She forced a smile. “I’m interested in hearing about what you’ve planned to do once we reach the Willamette.”

“Each family is allowed to claim 120 acres. Papa and I will each claim land. We thought to build cabins close to the shared property line so you and Penny can help each other and visit.”

“Wonderful!” She paused, then wrinkled her nose. “What about your medical practice? You’ll be away from town.”

“Not necessarily. We’ll not be in a big city, but townships are springing up everywhere. Choosing a good location shouldn’t be overly difficult. I anticipate I’ll be called away at times, so I wanted our cabin close to others so you’d have help.”

“You’re most thoughtful, Josh, but you needn’t fret. I’m quite independent.”

“Are you, now?”

She heard the challenge and amusement in his voice. “Yes. Why don’t you teach me how to drive this thing?”

“There’ll be time for that later. The wainwrights designed a clever seat here, but we can ride my horse or walk alongside to spare the oxen.”

“Did you get new shoes for your pony, as you did for me?”

His chuckle lightened her mood. “Yes, but I won’t expect you to eat grass. I had a friend go to Chicago and do some horse trading for me.” As Bethany looked at the two black-splotched white horses, Josh continued, “The one on the left is Tincture. He’s Papa’s. Ours is named Tonic.”

“With names like that, they ought to stay in the pink of health.”

“I hope so. That Tennessee walker of Orson Millberg’s is a beautiful beast, but he’ll end up in bad shape because he’s accustomed to eating hay and oats. My friend got Papa and me these Indian paints because they’re content to graze on the grasses.”

“I hope you’ll be content with grasses, too.” She darted a look from beneath the brim of her sunbonnet. “I brought oatmeal, rice, barley, corn, and wheat.”

“All that’s fine—but I do like my flapjacks.”

They spoke in fits and starts all morning. The awkwardness waxed and waned. Realizing her groom had sharp wit, Bethany tried to use humor to draw him out. By the time the wagons stopped for lunch, she was relieved to have Penny and Papa to help carry the conversation.

Papa threw a rust-red blanket on the ground near a patch of violet and yellow wood sorrel, and Penny brought buttermilk. While Josh delivered their buttermilk to the Sawyers, Bethany set out the fried chicken, cheese, and apple tarts they’d gotten as a boxed lunch from the hotel.

Up ahead a small ruckus drew their attention. Rawhide stayed mounted, glared down at the Millbergs, and waved at their maid. “Miz Katie, you put that chair right back in that wagon. You folks can sit on the ground just like everyone else. Noontime stops are necessities. Eat simple, rest up.”

Mrs. Millberg huffed, and her daughter fussed about her frilly pink dress while Mr. Millberg scowled and rumbled, “Now see here. These are ladies—”

Rawhide interrupted, “Are you implying the other women in my train aren’t ladies, Millberg?”

Papa leaned forward and helped himself to a chicken leg as he quoted under his breath, “ ‘ ’Twas yet some comfort, when misery could beguile the tyrant’s rage, and frustrate his proud will.’
King Lear
, act IV, scene 6.”

Penny whispered, “Oh, I thought that was from
Taming of the Shrew
!”

Bethany dropped her chicken wing as her composure slid toward mirth.

Josh snatched it from the blanket. “Fly, little bird!” He tossed it toward the parson’s big yellow hound that lay in the grass.