Wagon Train Reunion. Linda Ford
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bought him from said he was born on the fourth of July. What else was he to name him?”
“I guess it’s better than Bell.” His feeble attempt at humor was rewarded when she laughed.
“Buck and Bell has a certain ominous ring to it.”
He chuckled. “We don’t want any bucking around here.” He helped Mr. Bingham yoke the two remaining animals.
“I fear I’ll never get good at this,” the man murmured.
Mrs. Bingham poked her head out of the wagon. “I tried to tell you, you weren’t the sort to make this kind of journey.”
Mr. Bingham sighed softly. “We’re going.”
Ben patted Mr. Bingham’s shoulder. “You’ll catch on soon enough.”
He spared one more glance in Abby’s direction.
“Thank you,” she murmured. Her hazel eyes burned a trail through his thoughts.
Leading his horse, he strode away as fast as his legs would carry him. What was wrong with him that he couldn’t even look at the woman without his thoughts scrambling like an egg dropped on the ground? Her look had meant nothing but gratitude for his help.
He wasn’t about to pick up where they’d left off six years ago. A person could not undo the things that had been done. They couldn’t erase the words that had been spoken.
Only the future mattered and that lay in Oregon where he would join Grayson and the two of them would work together again as they had all Ben’s life. Like two oxen sharing the load.
He swung into his saddle and turned the horse toward the Hewitt wagon.
Emma and Rachel sat side by side. Rachel’s look was sharp with disapproval.
“Already she’s got you at her beck and call.”
Emma made a quieting motion with her hand. “Rachel, that’s not fair. Ben was only doing his duty as one of the committeemen.”
“I don’t see him helping anyone else.”
Which wasn’t true, but before Ben could defend himself, Rachel rushed on.
“I see it now. She’ll be all sweet with you while she needs your help, but once we get to Oregon, she’ll be off in search of better prospects.”
“Hush, Rachel.” Emma shook her head at Ben. “We all know she would have to search far and wide and still she’d not find anyone better than Ben.”
He smiled at his gentle sister. If only everyone thought the same.
“Emma’s right. I’m only doing my job.” His duty and fulfilling his responsibilities was all he had to cling to. Getting his family to Oregon safe and sound, assisting others on the wagon train, those were the sort of things that made him sit with his shoulders squared.
The bugle sounded to indicate it was time to move out. Ben sat astride his horse, urging each wagon into place. Soon the column was on the move and he leaned back, his heart at ease. This was what mattered—keeping things rolling.
Dust billowed up around each wagon wheel and filled the air. Those in the lead didn’t have to breathe in quite so much, but by the end of the column the dust was thick and choking. Soon the wagons fanned out to avoid each other’s dust. Still, those at the rear got more than their fair share.
Ben wiped his eyes as he rode past the final wagons but it did nothing to clear his vision.
Four wagons from the end, he encountered Ernie Jones and his wagon. He couldn’t see Arty. Likely the boy had wisely taken to walking far enough from the column to avoid the dust.
Ernie called out to him. “You made sure I rode back here, didn’t ya?”
“Everyone will take turns being first or last. Sam Weston ordered it.” He made to ride on.
Ernie uttered a rude word. “I’d like to see the day you make that gal friend of yers and her uppity ma and pa ride in the back.”
He’d done nothing that would give anyone reason to suspect they had once had an interest in each other. Or so he thought. He snorted. Yet Ernie had seen enough to make his accusation.
Or had he? Ben’s thoughts cleared. It seemed Ernie had a knack for creating trouble. That’s all it was. No need to get fussed about it.
At the second last wagon, a man signaled for Ben to ride closer. “My missus says her mixing bowl is gone.”
Ben had heard such statements before. “Did she leave it behind?”
“Not my missus. Someone’s taken it.”
More suggestion that there was a thief in their midst. “It’s easy to lose things in the hustle of moving every day.”
“I suppose so.” The man seemed ready to accept it was lost. Ben didn’t like to think otherwise. He thought of the bank robbery back in Independence but there was no reason to think that person was in the wagon train.
He rode up the column. Many of the women and children walked beside the wagons, far enough away to avoid the dust.
He reached the Hewitt wagon. Emma drove it. He glimpsed Rachel walking in a group of women. Sally Littleton was there, too, carrying little Johnny. She must get weary. She’d tried to carry him in a sling but he’d protested so loudly she’d abandoned the idea.
A familiar figure appeared at Sally’s side. Abby. Her bonnet hid her face but he knew her from the way she walked, the way she tilted her head as she talked then she turned to Sally and Ben saw her profile. She smiled at the other woman and held out her arms, offering to take Johnny.
The way Sally’s shoulders sagged as she released her baby to Abby’s arms indicated how tired she had grown.
Ben smiled and his heart warmed. These women would soon learn to work together in peace. He dismounted and tied the horse to the back of the wagon then trotted up to the front and swung up beside Emma. “I’ll drive for a while. Why don’t you join the other ladies?”
“Thanks.” Emma barely finished the word before she jumped down.
He grinned as he guided the oxen along. The view was pleasant from up there. Abby did a funny little jiggling walk as she bounced the baby. Her skirt swung from side to side in a way that made her appear almost fluid. The baby caught at her bonnet strings and loosened them allowing it to fall back on her head. Her hair turned golden in the sun. She laughed at little Johnny’s antics.
He couldn’t hear the sound of her laughter but knew it by heart. Clear and musical as ringing bells. He jerked his attention to the heavy-hipped animals before him. Clumsy looking but they were suited to their task.
And he was suited to his. Just as Abby was suited to hers. He, a simple man. She, a beautiful woman who belonged in a fine parlor surrounded by things money could buy.
Against his better judgment he stole another glance at her. She seemed perfectly at ease with the child.
His heart twisted within him at the realization of why she was good with the baby. If she’d had her own and lost them.
Thankfully no one was about to see him flinch.
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