Walk by Faith (16 page)

June 29, 1863

S
am McCurdy sat on a wooden chair in the middle of the circle of wagons, his head hanging. His wife and children, as well as his sister- and brother-in-law, Betsy and Ben Gobles, and their children, all stood behind Sam in an obvious effort to win the travelers' sympathies so they would be allowed to continue the journey to Montana.

“We all know what happened last night,” Dawson announced. “Samuel McCurdy got drunk and beat his wife, then left their wagon and went directly to Clarissa Graham's wagon where he assaulted her and was accidentally shot by Mrs. Graham, who was only trying to defend herself. Then Sam and his wife both insulted Mrs. Graham in the most reprehensible way a woman can be insulted. I won't stand for lies and false accusations on this wagon train. We are approaching a time when we will need to work together more than ever. Lack of cooperation could cost lives. Nor will I abide by a respectable woman being ridiculed and lied about. I feel the McCurdys should be kicked off this wagon train, but all of you insist on taking a vote on this, so be my guests.”

Clarissa stood with Michael and Carolyn and the girls, wearing a simple green gingham dress with a high neckline, her hair wound into a tight bun. She wanted to look as prim-and-proper as possible. She kept her chin high, glaring at Sam and his wife. In spite of sporting a black eye, Sue McCurdy now staunchly defended her husband.

“I am a Christian man who believes in forgiveness,” Michael declared, “but Mrs. Graham is a fine woman and a good friend to my wife. She was wrongly accosted and insulted. Still, we have to think of the McCurdy children.”

Will Krueger stepped forward. “Wanda, Bert and I vote them off.”

“Us, too.” Walt Clymer spoke for himself and his wife.

“Ve don't vant no trouble,” Otto Hensel said. “Za vife unt I say zey should go.”

Robert Trowbridge declared rather nervously, “Well, uh, we don't want any more trouble, either. Me and the wife have never seen anything questionable going on between Mrs. Graham and anyone else on this wagon train. She seems like a nice woman and a good mother, and she mostly minds her own business.” He looked at his wife, who smiled shyly. “My wife and I, well, we can't help wondering if there could be some other solution to this situation.”

“We don't like to be judgmental,” John Clay told them. “Rosemarie and I abstain. We'll go along with whatever the rest of you decide.”

Dawson turned his attention to the Gobles. “You staying or leaving?” he asked Ben.

The man hesitated, glancing at his wife and then his sister-in-law. “Well, naturally my wife wants to stand by her sister. And we do have to think of the children, Sam's and mine both.” He cleared his throat before continuing, as though to muster up some courage. “Mr. Clements, I know Sam did wrong, but you can't muster a man out of this wagon train like a soldier who's disobeyed an order. You run this wagon train like an army troop. I mean, I know you're used to giving orders, but it seems your mind is pretty well made up.”

“I'm giving all of you a chance to vote on this, aren't I? And as far as running this wagon train like a troop, that's the only way to make sure we all reach Montana safely. I told you before we left how it would be.”

“Should we really leave them here?” John Clay asked. “They could be attacked by Indians, or run out of supplies before more wagons come along.”

“Sam McCurdy should have thought of that before he started drinking,” Dawson answered, still looking and sounding angry from the night before.

“Well, Dawson, maybe we could let them sort of lag behind, stay a distance from us,” Michael told him. “After all, there
are
little children involved here. Maybe the answer is to make them keep a bit of a distance, but close enough where we can help them if they run into trouble. As far as Sam getting drunk and abusing his wife, well, that's something the two of them and the Gobles need to do something about. Sam himself has to answer to the Lord for his wrongdoings, not to us, or to you, Dawson.”

Dawson cast him a scowl. “He can't control his drinking. And there stands his wife with a black eye, defending him.”

Sue put a hand on Sam's shoulder. “That's my right,” she answered. “A woman has to stand by her husband.”

“Mr. Clements.” Clarissa spoke up then, keeping her address to him formal in front of the others. “Much as I detest Samuel McCurdy, I agree with Michael. We have to think of the women and children. Let them stay, but at a distance.”

Dawson's irritation was obvious in the long sigh he emitted. “All right, we'll take a final vote. Everyone who wants them to stay, but farther back, raise your hands.”

A few hands went up, then more, and more, including Clarissa's.

“On one condition,” Dawson said. “Sam McCurdy owes Mrs. Graham a genuine apology for the way he treated her last night.”

Sam kept his head bowed. “I'm…sorry,” he said softly.

“Stand up and come closer, and face her like a man,” Dawson ordered. “And speak up.”

After a moment of hesitation, Sam rose and limped closer, facing Clarissa with bloodshot eyes and bruises on his face from Dawson's sound beating the night before. He looked rightfully remorseful and embarrassed. “I said I was sorry,” he told Clarissa.

“I still don't think it's right for a single woman to be along with us,” Sam's wife said loudly, an obviously feeble attempt at somehow putting some of the blame on Clarissa. “Mr. Clements, you said last night you would marry her today. Are you going to do it? Seems to me that would solve a lot of problems.”

“The only problem here is your drunken husband,” Clarissa fumed. “Why do you let him abuse you? Don't you have any pride?”

“Don't talk to me about pride, you hussy!”

Clarissa gasped and headed for Sue McCurdy. Dawson grabbed her. “This meeting is over.” He held on to Clarissa as he spoke. “McCurdy, get your family away from here,
now!
I want you a good hundred yards behind us. Hitch your teams and get moving!”

Sam nodded and turned, walking up to his wife and telling her to shut her mouth. “Help me get the teams hitched!” he growled at her.

“We took a vote, so don't say I run this outfit unfairly,” Dawson told the others. “Go on about your business. Since we've wasted part of the morning because of Sam McCurdy, we won't leave until one o'clock.” He kept hold of Clarissa's arm and led her away from the others to a stand of pines.

“I think they're right about one thing, Clare. We
should
get married,” he told her bluntly.

“What! Are you
crazy?
” She put her hands to her face, still trying to erase the urge to put her hands around Sue McCurdy's neck.
Dear God, forgive me for such animosity!
How could she even consider Dawson's suggestion when she was in such an emotional state?

“I'm not crazy,” Dawson answered. “I simply can't tolerate any of those people thinking badly of you because of me. The best way to stop the talk and calm things down is to let Michael marry us.”

Clarissa jerked away. “How romantic.” She folded her arms and walked a few feet away, seething inside, mainly angry with herself because deep inside a little part of her liked the idea. But the practical side of her told her it was ridiculous. She whirled and faced him. “I still hardly know you. After what I've been through, do you really expect me to turn around and marry a near stranger?”

He put his hands on his hips and stood there in his blue calico shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular forearms, a gun belt around his hips, his dark, wavy hair blowing in strands over his handsome face. Why did he have to look so handsome? Clarissa turned away again.

“Let's see,” he said. “You already know I was eight when my parents died in a fire I set by accident, and that a crazed preacher raised me and beat me until I was thirteen—and I still have a couple of scars on my back to prove it. You know I ran off and joined the army, fought in the Mexican War, got some schooling in Philadelphia, then back to the army and served in Texas where I married a Mexican woman who died, taking my baby with her. I was transferred farther north, served at Fort Laramie, fought Indians, then got called to the Civil War, fought at Shiloh, where a man I'd befriended willed some money to me before he was killed. I was wounded in the leg in later fighting, was sent to St. Louis to mend, where I also retrieved the money willed to me, then grabbed little Sophie from under the hooves of a team of horses, which is how I met you. You know I decided to leave the army for good and take a bunch of homeless families who'd lost everything in the war up to Montana to start new lives, and you decided to join up with me. What else do you need to know? Where I lived before I ran away? I was born and raised in Springfield, Illinois, which is where the preacher who took me in also lived. I don't think I've left anything out.”

She finally faced him again. “Those are just facts. They don't explain the real Dawson Clements. How do I know
you
won't turn out to be a drunken wife beater? You
were
drinking the first night you came to my wagon, if you will remember.”

“That was for courage. I'm not exactly the most self-confident man who ever walked, you know.”

Clarissa rolled her eyes. “You're the most confident man I've ever met. You give orders like a—like a drill sergeant! Do you intend to order
me
around? I've learned some hard lessons, Dawson Clements, and one of them is I'll never let a man walk all over me again—ever!”

He grinned. “Good. That pride is part of what I love about you.”

She waved him off. “Stop saying you love me. You don't know me any better than I know you.”

“You don't always need to know every last detail about a person to love them, Clare. What else do you want to know about me?”

“What about other women?” she asked, facing him again. “It was a long time ago that you served in Texas. What about between then and now? Have there been other women you thought you loved?” She saw instant pain in his eyes and regretted the question.

He walked closer, sobering. “No. There have been no other women who meant one whit to me.”

She turned away. “Just the kind who follow the soldiers wherever they go, I suppose. How do I know you aren't carrying some dreaded disease?”

“What?”

She covered her face. “I'm sorry. I don't know what made me say that.”

“Maybe it's because you don't
like
the thought of me being with other women.”

She gasped. “Oh, the gall. I—I don't know how I feel about you at
all!
One minute you're nothing more to me than a guide for this wagon train, and the next minute I—”

He stepped closer. “You what?”

She just shook her head.

He grasped her shoulders. “Clare, I don't have any disease. And if you want to know so much about me, sure, I've succumbed to being human a few times. I never told you I was perfect. I'm far from that. But you do something to me. You've made me think about my life and what I want. I know you aren't even sure you love me, and I know the last thing you're ready for is to trust a man again. For now I just want Michael to marry us to quiet things down. It will just make the rest of the trip easier, because I intend to spend more time with you and Sophie, so that you
can
get to know me better. If you're my wife, people won't care how much time I spend with you.”

She turned from him again, her emotions tumbling in a cascade of fear and anger and frustration and confusion. “If we do this…don't expect any—you know—conjugal rights, I think they call it.”

There came a moment of silence. “Who wants to be with a woman who doesn't really want him?” he finally answered.

She swallowed. “I…didn't say that. I mean—I just need to know it's all for the right reasons. I'll need you to sign a paper that gives me the right to have the marriage annulled at any time, as long as we haven't truly been man and wife. I—This is just to make things look better, right?”

“Right.”

“And you won't—you won't think you have…husbandly rights…just because of a piece of paper?”

“Well, let's see. We're out here in the middle of nowhere, with only canvas-covered wagons to sleep in. Do you really think I'd climb in your wagon and force myself on you and have everybody on this wagon train hear the ruckus you'd raise and embarrass me beyond recovery? No, thank you.”

She covered her face, hiding a smile that for some strange reason turned to tears. In the next moment his arms were around her, and she didn't mind. He held her close, and she turned to him, taking comfort in his strength.

“When and if we make this a real marriage, Clare Graham, it will be the right way, in private, and for all the right reasons, just like you want it. Will you trust me that much?”