her expression smoothed.
Rachel studied him for a long, silent moment. “Then why do you look so flummoxed?”
“I don’t.” Except he still couldn’t believe Mr. Bingham had spoken up on his behalf. With Abigail at his side.
But Rachel had her mind stuck on the topic and wouldn’t let it go unless he could divert her.
“The committee decided we will pull out first thing tomorrow. Those with cattle will go in one party. The rest of us will travel in another.”
“We’ll be ready,” Emma assured him, and immediately started to gather up odds and ends of kitchenware.
Rachel did not back down. “I wish the Binghams weren’t traveling with us.”
Ben lifted a hand in a dismissive gesture hoping Rachel would see how little it mattered. “I don’t see what difference it makes.”
“I remember when she dropped you,” Rachel said. “I saw how upset you were. I wanted to help.”
“I survived and am stronger for it. Besides, you were only thirteen.”
“And now I’m nineteen and I’m still not old enough to watch my brother get hurt.”
He shrugged. “Your big brother is quite capable of taking care of himself.” If Rachel took it in her head to fuss about this on a regular basis she would make it impossible for him to pretend the Binghams weren’t traveling with them. His stomach ached at the possibility.
“I hope so.”
“You don’t have to worry about me. I got over Abby years ago. I won’t give her the chance to hurt me again.” She was merely one of almost a thousand travelers, not anyone who would earn special attention from him. “All I care about is getting us safely to Oregon.” He jammed his fingers into his trousers pockets. He would not fail. Not in any of his responsibilities.
The next morning, he discovered how challenging his responsibilities could be. Trying to get these emigrants organized and on their way was like trying to hold water in a sieve.
A man couldn’t find one of his oxen and accused his neighbor of stealing it. Ben directed the angry man to search among the many loose cattle until he found his own.
A woman wrung her hands because her five-year-old son had disappeared. “I’ll never find him in this bedlam,” she wailed.
They were near the Bingham wagon and Abigail hurried over to see if she could help.
“What’s his name and what does he look like?” she asked.
The woman stammered out a reply.
“I’ll find him,” Abby said to Ben. “You get on with your work.” Without giving him a chance to say yay or nay, she started down the line of wagons, calling the child’s name and asking if anyone had seen him.
He couldn’t think if he appreciated her help or resented being ordered about by her. But he didn’t have time to decide.
Mr. Bingham struggled with his oxen and Ben assisted him and gave him a few instructions on handling the animals. Mrs. Bingham sat on an upright chair inside the wagon. She wouldn’t last long on that perch, but she would not look kindly at advice from him. He decided against suggesting she find a different place to sit.
He checked on the Littletons. “How is Johnny?”
Mrs. Littleton washed dishes with the baby on her hip. “He’s fussy. Won’t let me put him down.”
“I expect he’s frightened.”
“My poor baby.”
Ben was about to move on when Abby returned leading the missing child and turned him over to his mother who smothered him in kisses, then scolded him for running off.
Abby chuckled. Her gaze lifted to Ben’s, her hazel eyes piercing right through his defenses.
How often in the past had her gaze done this to him? There was a time he welcomed it. No more. He wasn’t good enough for her six years ago and nothing about his station in life had changed for the better.
He turned his attention back to his duties.
“The bank’s been robbed!” A young man rode through the crowd shouting, “Fifteen thousand dollars missing from the new safe.”
Men crowded around the rider. “Anyone hurt?”
“Did they find the thief?”
“Did he come this direction?” When the answers were no, the people were relieved to know the robbery would not involve them and returned to preparing for the journey.
The noise swelled with laughter, cries and shouts. Dust rose from the trampled ground. The smell of animals and woodsmoke tinged the air.
Mrs. Bingham had been riffling through a box of things at the back of the wagon. She straightened and signaled Ben, who rode over, his heart heavy. Whatever the woman wanted, he suspected it would be less than pleasant.
“My gilded mirror is missing.”
Ben nodded. “You’ve misplaced it?”
“I have not. It’s been stolen.”
Ben sighed heavily. Such accusations without evidence served only to instill anxiety and mistrust among the travelers.
Mrs. Bingham drew herself up and gave him a demanding look. “Aren’t you in charge of this group?”
“I am.”
“First the bank and now a bunch of innocent, defenseless travelers. I suggest you do your job and find the thief or thieves.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Though he wondered if any of their group were defenseless. Everyone had a pistol or a rifle or both. All had axes and shovels. And he wasn’t about to ride around demanding to know if someone stole a mirror. Likely the woman had misplaced it.
But he would do his job and keep a close eye on the Bingham wagon lest someone had targeted them as having valuable contents among their belongings.
Abigail returned to the wagon at that point. “Mother, what’s wrong?”
Mrs. Bingham grabbed Abby’s arm. “I’ve been robbed and this man is doing nothing about it. It appears to me he’ll help only those he chooses to.”
“Mother, we simply don’t have time to worry about it right now. Everyone is ready to leave.”
Ben rode away and didn’t look back. Abigail was every bit as much under her mother’s thumb as she’d ever been. Ben would not likely forget Mrs. Bingham did not approve of him. Therefore, Abigail didn’t, either.
* * *
Abigail didn’t have time to deal with her mother’s fussing. Their journey was about to begin and she couldn’t wait to get started. The future beckoned.
