Bartered Bride Romance Collection (24 page)

“And here I thought you were being biblical.”

She gave him a baffled look.

“I saw you reading Leviticus last night.” He couldn’t hide the chuckle in his voice as he teased, “So I figured you were inspired this morning to give a burnt offering.”

For an instant, she winced, then her expression changed to carry a playful air. “I was just practicing for tomorrow. Since it’ll be Sunday, I want to be sure to char them to perfection.”

“I suppose we’ll be healthy, then. One of my medical texts recommends charcoal for digestive complaints.”

“Only thing is, you’re complaining and won’t digest,” she muttered. “Mrs. Throckmorton always gave me peppermint for such maladies. I like her medicine better.”

“I like this medicine the most.” He dipped his head and kissed her sweetly.

Sunday, after they spent part of the morning listening to a fine sermon on perseverance and had a quick noon meal, the wagon train set out. Penny started to plan a supper menu aloud.

“Actually”—Bethany felt her cheeks go hot—“since our plans got scuttled because you were afraid of our guide, I’m going to insist that you’re on your own tonight. Josh and I are going to celebrate our one-week anniversary.”

That evening Bethany lit a candle, stood back, and smiled. She’d covered the table with a white linen cloth and put a fistful of Johnny-jump-ups and poppy mallow in a tin cup. Her corn bread turned out perfectly. When Josh came around the wagon, she singsonged, “Happy anniversary!”

He’d just seated her and taken his place when Megan Crawford ran up with her arm about her nephew, Jeremiah. “Doc, I’m sorry, but this can’t wait.”

Later, while Josh carried Jeremiah back to the Crawford wagon, Bethany took a deep breath and picked her beautiful Irish linen tablecloth out of the dirt. Josh had swept supper clean off the table so he could lay the twelve year old there to set his badly broken arm. By the time Josh came back, she was prying cold corn bread from the pan to serve with the rest of the stew. Two hounds had slunk over and feasted out of the bowls that got knocked off the table. Yesterday’s burned biscuits, now a ruined anniversary supper … She tried to tamp down her disappointment. Either her dreams were going up in smoke or to the dogs.

Chapter 5

J
osh watched his wife and sister walking in the distance. They’d joined the other women and children, keeping free from the dust the wagons kicked up. Penny and Bethany chattered like two magpies on a clothesline. He didn’t want to begrudge his wife and sister their friendship, but it irritated him to feel as if he had to keep walking a tightrope between being a newly wedded man and an amiable son and brother. Everyone else seemed more than satisfied with how things were going. Everyone but him.

Indeed, most of the folks had settled into traveling quite nicely. Farmers sat at the campfire at night, remarking on how they’d normally be plowing and planting, so this felt like a pleasant holiday. Little girls plucked fistfuls of wildflowers; and the women had taken to harvesting handfuls of watercress, wild parsley, and wild onions. Boys threw rocks and played with slingshots. Because the wagons jounced so badly, most of the men walked alongside the wagons and occasionally cracked whips in the air to direct the oxen instead of riding on the hard, wooden seats.

Why doesn’t Bethany walk with me?

The temperature dropped to freezing last night. They’d awakened to frost on everything. Instead of complaining, Bethany cheerfully whipped the cream she’d skimmed from the milk she’d gotten from Lady Macbeth last night, added in a bit of sugar, and whisked it with a few drops of cherry extract. They all ate their ice cream atop buttermilk flapjacks for breakfast. Remembering how she’d recalled aloud how he held a particular fondness for those flapjacks made him feel guilty for being surly about her skipping along with his sister.

He wondered what Bethany planned for supper. The first few days she’d cooked over the fire, she’d incinerated most of their food; but after a week and a half, she’d grown quite adept at making delicious meals.

They’d decided after the first few days that a morning prayer together would have to suffice, rather than lengthy devotions. With him needing to hitch the oxen and her seeing to breakfast, matters were too hurried for much more. In the evenings, they’d sit side by side and have their Bible reading time. He’d thought she might enjoy starting with the story of Noah—it struck him as fitting. As a matched pair, they were on a journey to a new life. It was the only time he’d noticed she didn’t seem to enjoy their spiritual time together. Every once in awhile, he thought he caught a flicker of discontent on her face; but just as he got ready to ask, she always managed to say something perky that proved he’d simply misread her.

Marriage wasn’t quite as easy as he’d expected it to be.

“So much for honeysuckle perfume,” Bethany sighed as the sun set the next day.

Josh took one good look at his wife and sister and burst out laughing. “Gloves?”

Penny peeled off her elbow-length, once-white glove. “This is never going to wash clean!”

Bethany pulled off the other filthy glove from the pair of once-elegant ballroom gloves they’d obviously shared and nudged the basket of buffalo chips down at her feet. She cast a wry look at Penny. “If Mrs. Throckmorton could see us now!”

“She’d have a fit of vapors!”

Josh looked at the dried plate-sized chips, then at the gloves, and chuckled. “Would she be more upset about your gloves or about what you’ve collected?”

Bethany waggled her finger at him. “If you make fun of us, Joshua Rogers, you just might have to cook supper over those stinky things yourself!”

He twitched his nose. “Beth, the honeysuckle still wins as my favorite—but one of your suppers will, no doubt, smell terrific.”

Penny spun her glove around like a slingshot and launched it at him. He caught it as she declared, “Mrs. Throckmorton always said the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach!”

“I researched her academy carefully before I recommended Papa send you there. I knew she was a wise woman.”

“That does it.” Bethany went up on tiptoe and gave him a hug. “You’re forgiven for teasing us. I didn’t know you’re the one responsible for Penny being my roommate!”

He hugged her back. “Do I get a kiss for making her your sister?”

Bethany pulled away and sashayed toward the wagon. Her words floated back to him. “No, but you’ll get apple crisp for dessert!”

The evening after they traversed a hilly limestone region and crossed the toll bridge over the Wakarusa, Penny kept hovering. Some of the time, having family here was a blessing, not a burden. For now, Josh wished Penny would realize he and Bethany were entitled to some private time. More than a bit irritated, Josh finally groused, “Sis, we want to have devotions.”

“Perhaps we could all join the others for a while,” Papa suggested. “It’s early yet.”

Josh shoved his hands in his pockets and balled them into fists. He’d just about run out of tolerance.

“I don’t think I could sleep quite yet,” Bethany confessed, ruining his plan to take a stand.

Soon they all joined the others. Folks loved to hear Papa do recitations. He’d just finished Hamlet’s soliloquy and beckoned, “Penny, come do Ophelia.”

“Oh, great,” Penny muttered. “I get to go die again.”

Bethany whispered, “Want me to send that handsome Dillon Trier to rescue you?”

“I could only wish!” Penny sighed and took her place at the campfire. As she began, Rawhide tapped Josh’s shoulder. Bethany grabbed his hand. “Do you need my help?”

Hours later, Bethany held Mrs. Wentworth’s head as she got violently ill. Afterward, she blotted the poor woman’s blue-tinged face and looked at Josh. He knelt quietly between two little boys who were curled double from stomach pain. None of the three of them stood a chance of surviving until morning. Mr. Harris was dosing two other children with some paregoric. With a miracle, that pair might pull through.

“Doc, we brought some tonic,” one of the Wentworth men said. “Dr. C. V. Girard’s ginger brandy. Says right here, ‘A certain cure for cholera, colic, cramps, dysentery, chills, and fever.’ ”

“Fine. Give her a tablespoon.”

“Here. I’ll hold her head; you spoon it in,” Bethany said. “It sounds like just what she needs. You’re a very loving son, Mr. Wentworth.”

Josh marveled at his wife’s reaction. He’d plainly told her the woman wouldn’t last another two hours. Instead of running from the face of death, Bethany wanted to comfort both the patient and her distraught family. In the midst of this travesty, he held on to the solace that she’d left the evening entertainment and willingly joined him here. Indeed, he’d truly married a helpmeet.

The next morning, after the assemblage listened to the pastor’s brief prayer and sang a hymn, Rawhide stood between two of the graves. “Folks,” he let out a beleaguered sigh, “Mrs. Wentworth and them boys drank tainted water. Let this be a lesson—no drinking, fishing, or washing downstream from where the animals water. Indians go by that dictum, and they fare middlin’ well. I said it back in Independence, and I didn’t want to have to repeat myself. Now let’s move out.”

Too weary to walk, Bethany rode next to Josh. She rested her head on his shoulder and sleepily murmured, “Deuteronomy 1:21 says, ‘Behold, the Lord thy God hath set the land before thee: go up and possess it, as the Lord God of thy fathers hath said unto thee; fear not, neither be discouraged.’ ”

He kissed her temple. “Thanks, sweetheart. I needed to hear that.” As she drowsed, he pondered on the verse and wondered what discouragements and fears they’d need to overcome before they reached their promised land in Oregon.