Wagon Train Reunion

Sally hovered over the pair. “If he’s sick— But Emma looked at his wound and said it was fine.”

Abby moved to Sally’s side and wrapped an arm around the woman’s shoulders. “So many changes are hard to get used to. We’re all feeling it.” She sent a scolding look toward her mother. “He’ll adjust. We all will.”

Mollified, Sally sat back and held out her arms to take the baby. “You’re right, of course.”

Martin patted little Johnny’s back.

Ben couldn’t take his eyes off Abby. He remembered how kind she was to others back when they were friends. Why should he have thought marrying Frank would change that? But somehow he had.

Rachel nudged him in the ribs. And it made him aware of how long he’d been staring at Abby. He tipped his cup to his mouth for the last drops of coffee and bolted to his feet.

“Time to get ready to leave.”

The men brought in the oxen and yoked them to the wagon amid many shouts.

The women cleaned up the foodstuff and packed away the belongings. All but the youngest children ran about helping with the chores.

Ben prepared his own wagon. He’d let Rachel and Emma take turns driving it while he helped keep this company in order. He saddled his horse and rode from wagon to wagon until he was satisfied.

On the other side of the circle, Mr. Bingham tried unsuccessfully to get his oxen in order. Mrs. Bingham’s shrill voice reached Ben clear across the enclosure. The oxen stamped and tossed their heads. Between Mr. Bingham’s uncertainty and his wife’s yammering, they were about to have a wreck.

Martin had his hands full with his own animals so couldn’t lend his aid.

Ben spurred his horse into a gallop and reached the Binghams’ wagon. He leaped from his saddle and rushed to help with the animals.

“Easy there. Easy, big boy. There you go.” He calmed the animal and backed it into place. “The second animal is always harder to yoke into place than the first.” He kept his voice low and soothing. “And what’s your name, big fella?”

“That one’s Bright. His partner is Sunny. The other two are Buck and Liberty,” Abby answered.

Ben’s gaze bolted to the wagon where Abby sat on the seat, the reins clenched in her white-knuckled hands. Her face seemed rather pale. His heart melted at how frightened she must be with these big animals acting up. What had she said about facing changes? He’d venture a guess she’d never before had any dealings with thousand-pound oxen. They’d all adjust but some had more adjusting to do.

“Liberty? Isn’t that a little highfalutin compared to the others?”

She nodded. “Kind of thought so myself. But the man we 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.”