Westward Hearts (26 page)

Everyone nodded, even Gertie Muller, although her face still looked like she was sucking on a lemon, and Asa smiled. “So you see, this is just what the Lord Jesus is talking about. God’s kingdom of heaven is like the treasure in the field. And our Lord says we must give up something—something we value greatly—in order to secure our places in God’s kingdom of heaven. So let’s all bow our heads now.” He waited a moment and then began to pray. “Dear Lord God Almighty, we ask you to show us what it is that we need to be willing to give up in order to receive your kingdom of heaven. For some of us it will be pride. For some of us it will be an earthly distraction. For others it will be doubts and disbelief. Whatever it is that is keeping us from receiving the riches and glory you have for us, we ask you to show us. And we ask you to help us to give it up and lay it at your holy feet so that we might have treasures that never perish. Amen.” Now Asa nodded to Matthew and he began to play “Rock of Ages.” Brady and JT played along as best they could, and everyone sang along, but Elizabeth could tell that the Taylors knew the words better than anyone and were pleased to sing loudly.

After the song ended, people continued to stand around, visiting among themselves about the weather and whatnot. But Elizabeth could tell that not everyone was pleased with her father’s short and simple service, including Gertie Muller and, it seemed, the Taylors as well. Mrs. Taylor spoke up first, directing her question to Asa. “Is that all?”

He tipped his head to one side as if he didn’t understand. “All what?”

“Is that all you’re going to do for church this morning?” she persisted.

“Jane,”
Mr. Taylor warned quietly.

“I’m sorry,” she continued. “But I’m accustomed to a much longer service. More scripture reading. More prayers. More preaching. I do not see how you can possibly call that a church service. Surely, it wasn’t more than ten minutes altogether.”

Asa looked directly at her. “The good book says where two or more are gathered, the Lord is there in the midst of them. There is nothing said about how much time must be spent in the gathering.”

“I thought Asa’s sermon length was perfect,” Will Bramford declared loudly. “To be honest, my family and I have been neglectful of our church attendance in recent years.” He turned to Asa, shaking his hand. “I found your words to be refreshing and encouraging. Thank you very much, sir.”

Several others chimed in with similar praise, shaking his hand and then excusing themselves. But Elizabeth could tell their compliments were making her father uncomfortable. Finally, only the Flanders, Mullers, and Taylors remained.

“I have a question for you, Asa Dawson,” Gertie Muller said loudly.

He nodded at her. “Go ahead.”

“It appears to me that if you’re setting yourself up to be both our councilman and our pastor, you ought to be paying a mite more attention to some of your wayward flock.” She narrowed her eyes and then jutted her thumb back to where Ruby’s wagon was parked behind Elizabeth’s.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying those women in that wagon are not the kind of women we should be associating ourselves with.” She stepped forward now, glaring directly at Asa. “And I’m saying that the kind of carrying on that took place over here last night was not Christian or proper. Not to mention it was an unwholesome influence on my boys.”

“We were having a birthday celebration for JT,” Asa told her. “Naturally, everyone in our unit was welcome to come. You and your family were invited and—”

“You were
dancing!”
She spat out the last word like it was filth.

Asa nodded. “That we were. Playing music and dancing and merrymaking. It was a celebration of my grandson’s—”

“It was an evil and disgusting display.” She grimly shook her head. “Plum wicked.”

“Oh, Gertie.” Flo frowned. “What on earth are you blathering about?”

“I’m speaking about sinful pleasures,” Gertie said bitterly. “No good will come from it neither. Next thing, ya’ll will be drinking and gambling too.” She shook a finger in front of Asa’s nose. “I plan on reporting you, Asa Dawson. I’m going to demand that you be replaced or else my wagon gets moved to another unit. I plan to speak to Captain Brownlee this morning.”

“Captain Brownlee was one of our guests last night,” Elizabeth calmly told Gertie. “Both he and Eli Kincaid came to our celebration.”

Gertie’s eyes narrowed and she pointed to Ruby’s wagon again. “I am not going to tolerate this wickedness for one more day. That is a wagon of ill repute, and I will insist that it be removed from the wagon train or Captain Brownlee will refund my deposit immediately. I signed a contract with that man.” She pointed to her children now, two of the younger ones who had come with her. They looked slightly frightened by their mother’s fury. “My children are being exposed to sin and corruption, and I will not keep quiet about it.”

“Those are strong words,” Asa told her. “As councilman of this unit, I must insist that you keep those kinds of accusations private. I suggest that you go and get your husband right now, and we will all go speak to Captain Brownlee together.”

Asa excused himself and proceeded to briskly walk Gertie and her children back toward their wagon.

“My word!” Flo put a hand over her mouth.

“I don’t know what makes some people so mean,” Clara said sadly.

“And I thought we’d had such a nice service too,” Elizabeth added.

“There are bound to be troubles along the path to righteousness,” Mr. Taylor said solemnly.

Mrs. Taylor took Clara’s hand now. “Please, tell your husband that if he needs help with next week’s Sunday worship service, my husband will be more than happy to take care of it for—”

“Jane, please,” Mr. Taylor interrupted.

“What is the harm of offering your assistance, Horace? You are an ordained man of the cloth. Asa Dawson is not. Besides, it’s plain to see he has a lot more on his hands than he realizes.” She frowned at Ruby’s wagon. “Do you suppose there’s any truth in Gertie’s accusations?”

“Of course, not!” Elizabeth told her.

“Thank you for coming,” Clara told the Taylors. “I will convey your offer to help with church services to Asa.”

The Taylors excused themselves, and now only a handful of women and children remained. “I suppose I better go help Bert to pack up the wagon and hitch the team,” Flo said. “Come on, kids.” She winked at Clara and Elizabeth. “But you be sure to let me know how this all turns out.”

“Why was Mrs. Muller so angry?” Ruth asked as they were packing up the kitchen things.

“I think some people just like to be angry,” Elizabeth told her.

“And some folks don’t know how to be any other way.” Clara shook her head as she wiped a pot dry.

The rain continued throughout the morning. Shortly after one the wagons started to roll, and Elizabeth, holding the reins, said a silent prayer that her team would have no mishaps along what was sure to be a muddy trail. She knew her horses were sure-footed, and so far the mules had been reliable. But weather could play havoc with animals, and she prayed that the afternoon would go smoothly. She had seen her father coming back to the wagon, but by then everyone was so busy getting ready to leave that she never got to find out about his conversation with the captain. However, she knew she’d hear the details later. Probably over supper.

JT had opted to ride on horseback today, and Brady was riding with Matthew, so it was just Ruth and Elizabeth. “Why don’t you go and rest in the back of the wagon,” Elizabeth suggested after Ruth laid her head in her lap. She knew the little girl was worn out from staying up too late the night before. “I know it’s bumpy, but at least it’s drier back there.”

Ruth didn’t argue, and now it was just Elizabeth driving the wagon and cringing each time a hoof slipped in the mud. Fortunately, none of the horses had stumbled yet. At least the pace was deliberately slow. Sometimes they came to a complete halt, and she imagined that one of the wagons ahead was having a problem. By now there were many trails cutting through the prairie, and she tried to follow the one that seemed the least rutted. But at this plodding pace they’d be fortunate to make three miles before evening. Still, it was better than going too fast and risking animals. And preferable to not moving at all.

Elizabeth tried not to think of how many wet, miserable days might be ahead of them. They’d been blessed with gentle spring weather thus far, but it wasn’t quite April yet. She’d heard stories of wagon trains hit by tornadoes or pelted with hailstones the size of plums. There was no way to know what conditions might greet them down the road. At the same time, she reminded herself that they’d barely begun this journey. To start fretting over uncontrollable things like the weather was senseless.

As the train came to another halt, Elizabeth noticed the Muller wagon up ahead on one of the adjacent trails. As usual, Gertie was driving with her daughter MaryLou by her side. And as usual, Gertie’s husband, Henry, was nowhere to be seen. Matthew had confided to Elizabeth that Henry often slept in the back of the wagon while they were traveling. She glanced back in her own wagon to see Ruth nestled on the feather mattress and quilts with her doll cradled in her arms and Flax snuggled up next to her. They were the sweet picture of peace, at least while the wagon was stationary. How anyone could sleep back there with the bumping and rocking and rolling was a mystery to Elizabeth. She’d have to be seriously ill to endure that kind of torture. Perhaps Henry Muller wasn’t too well. So far, she’d barely seen the slight man, and she couldn’t even recall him uttering a single word—not that he could get one in edgewise around his loquacious wife.

Not for the first time, and not unlike Ruthie, she wondered why Gertie Muller was so cantankerous. Of course, it couldn’t be easy traveling with four loud children and a husband who looked incapable of doing something as basic as swinging an ax. But the two older boys looked fairly strong, and with Gertie ordering everyone around, it was likely that chores got done eventually. But it couldn’t be much fun. And for Gertie to claim that dancing was sinful and to say mean things about Ruby and the others—well, Elizabeth didn’t even like to think about it.

As the wagons began to move again, she decided to think about something happier, something to lighten her spirits in this drizzling rain. And so she let her mind wander back to the dancing they’d all enjoyed last night. It had been such a pleasure to see her children, her parents, and even Matthew dancing and laughing and having a good time. She still couldn’t fathom why Gertie wanted to paint it all in such a twisted way.

And yet Elizabeth had to admit—at least to herself—that she had felt slightly guilty to begin with. But that was entirely different from Gertie’s brand of guilt. Elizabeth’s discomfort was simply because it had been the first time she’d danced since being widowed, and for some reason, it hadn’t seemed quite proper. Not at first. Of course, it had been nearly four years since she’d lost James, so she really shouldn’t have been overly troubled by this. It just felt odd.

Elizabeth had never loved anyone except James. And she’d loved him since she’d been sixteen. Perhaps even before that. She had always imagined they would spend the rest of their days together. Even now, all these years later, she found it hard to believe she could ever love another. And yet, if she were completely truthful with herself, she had to admit that she’d felt a strange stirring inside of her last night. It had been a faint, almost imperceptible feeling when she’d danced with Will Bramford, a small flutter to see him watching her in a certain way. But there was no denying that the feeling had become even more pronounced when she’d danced with Eli. She’d attributed her flushed cheeks to the exertion of dancing, but she knew the warm rush had begun with the sensation of Eli’s hand supporting her back as he guided her through the dance steps, the touch of her hand in his. It had been unsettling…but pleasant.

However, it had been somewhat disturbing too. Although they danced several times, it had seemed that Eli had barely looked at her. He’d been polite and congenial, but not with the devoted sort of attention that Will had bestowed upon her. And to her disappointment, Will had insisted on having the last dance with her. She would have preferred to dance with Eli. But the gentleman in buckskins had simply tipped his head and handed her over as if he didn’t even mind. Then he went back over to join the other musicians. And throughout that final dance, she tried to act nonchalant as if she were perfectly happy with her dance partner. Why shouldn’t she have been? Will Bramford was a perfect gentleman, well spoken and intelligent. An attorney at law, he’d received his higher education from Harvard.

Yet, even as she appeared to enjoy Will’s company, she kept trying to get a sneak peek at the tall handsome man in the fringed buckskins. And that aggravated her. Perhaps it was Eli’s apparent disinterest toward her that made him so attractive to her. Perhaps that sense of elusive distance made him seem safe to her. And yet…she had definitely felt a stirring last night. In fact, just thinking of it gave her a warm rush now. Despite the chilling rain, her cheeks grew flushed, and she was glad no one was around to see. She suddenly felt embarrassed for how she’d allowed her imagination to run away with her just now. Truly, it was plum foolishness to dwell on such things. Did she think she was a schoolgirl again? A giddy youth like Evelyn or Belinda or Amelia?

She would rather stew over someone as disagreeable as Gertie Muller than obsess over Eli Kincaid. Indeed, Gertie was a hard one to figure. The cranky woman seemed determined to make everyone in their unit just as unhappy as she was. But why? Perhaps it was simply that misery loved company. Elizabeth’s parents planned to pray for Gertie. And Elizabeth knew if she were truly a good Christian woman, she would be praying too—for Gertie and for the welfare of Gertie’s whole miserable family. And perhaps in time, Elizabeth might reach the place where she could do that with genuine sincerity. But for the time being, it was unlikely. Every time she thought about Gertie Muller, she felt angry. And if she’d had her druthers, she’d put up with this foul wet weather for days on end rather than be subjected to Gertie Muller’s foul disposition for just a few minutes.