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.
Abby’s arms soon grew weary of carrying little Johnny. He wouldn’t settle. But then he hadn’t settled for his mama, either, and her arms must be four times as sore as Abby’s. Poor little boy was upset about so much change and no doubt suffered pain because of the injury to his side.
Over and over Sally thanked God it wasn’t worse. “Just a flesh wound,” she said.
“Poor Johnny doesn’t know he’s fortunate. All he knows is he’s hurt.” Abby jiggled the baby up and down on her hip. The least she could do was give Sally a break.
Sally had tried to settle him in the wagon, but he refused to let her put him down, and Sally said she got tired of bouncing around.
Emma had joined the others walking along the trail. Rachel was still among the group. That meant—Abby glanced over her shoulder—yes, Ben sat on the seat of their wagon.
And he watched her.
She jerked her head round to face forward. She must be imagining it. Just a trick of the light.
She would not look again though her neck creaked at the effort it cost her.
A horse and rider rode toward them. “We’ll be nooning here,” the man called.
Thank goodness.
The wagons stopped. The oxen were loosed to graze. The men carried water to them as the women quickly prepared the meal.
Rachel brought out the beans she’d prepared the day before. Sally had leftover biscuits. Emma fetched enough wood to build a small fire to make coffee.
Determined to do her share, Abby added dried apples to the offerings. Yes, she might have thought to make them into a pie the night before. Except she didn’t know how to make a pie. Or she might have stewed them.
Watching the others gave her an idea. They used an endless supply of biscuits and bread. Tonight she’d bake up a large batch of biscuits so there would be some for tomorrow.
The men ate and stretched out on the ground and were instantly asleep. Sally nursed Johnny and he settled into her arms for a nap. She laid him on a blanket in the shade and when he didn’t stir, she joined the others to clean up.
Abby stopped her. “Why don’t you rest with him? I’ll do your chores for you.”
“That’s a good idea,” Emma added. “You need to preserve your energy so you can take care of Johnny.”
“Thank you.” Sally squeezed Abby’s hands and stretched out beside the sleeping baby. Soon her gentle snores joined the louder ones of her husband and Abby’s father.
Abby stole a glance at Ben lying in the shade of their wagon, his hat pulled over his face. She didn’t hear snores from Ben’s direction. Did that mean he wasn’t asleep? His hat tipped to one side. Was he watching her? Them—she corrected.
Her cheeks grew warmer than they’d been a moment ago. One thought cooled them in an instant. They were no longer children. Both were wiser, more cautious. At least she suspected he would be. She certainly was. In Oregon, she’d find her freedom—from men, from her mother...could she possibly ever be free from her promise?
Father God, provide a way. Please.
Mother rose slowly and marched away. Abby watched her, noting she moved stiffly. Walking would do her good.
She helped Emma and Rachel clean up from the meal, well aware that Rachel sent a frown in Mother’s direction.
“I’m sorry,” Abby murmured. “Mother has no idea how to help.”
Rachel’s reply was short. “She might have to learn.”
Abby shrugged. “I don’t mind doing her share.” If she wasn’t mistaken, Rachel rolled her eyes before she reached for the last pot to put away.
Yes, Abby had neglected to do her share earlier, let alone Mother’s, but she didn’t intend for it to happen again.
They were soon on their way. Abby’s feet hurt but she would not complain. She went to their wagon. “I’d like to ride for a while. Father, why don’t I drive the oxen and you can walk?”
Mother sat upright on the seat, her face
