Baby On The Oregon Trail. Lynna Banning

shook his head. “Jenna and the young ones are back there, plus the wagon.” He reined back into the river without looking back.

      The return trip was easier. He mounted Ruthie tight against him, then snugged Mary Grace in front and wrapped his arms around them both. Jenna gave the two girls a wobbly smile and stood back, her arms clasped across her waist, to watch them go. Her face was white with fear, and suddenly Lee wanted to kiss her. Instead, he started back across the river.

      This time the river seemed less wild, or maybe he was just getting used to it. Mary Grace cried all the way across, but Ruthie maintained a stoic calm until they reached Sam and Zaberskie on the other side. Sam lifted Mary Grace off the horse and slogged up to where Tess stood, wringing her hands; Ruthie threw her little arms around Ted Zaberskie’s neck and wouldn’t let go.

      The downpour increased. Hell, if the river rose any higher, the wagon would never make it. He swam the stallion back across to Jenna, who stood with the rain pounding down on her head and shoulders, calling something up to him.

      “Wagon!”

      “No,” he shouted. “You next.”

      She pointed to herself, then cupped her hands and yelled back. “Go with wagon. You drive. Devil swim across.”

      That was one smart woman, he thought. She was right. If he didn’t get the wagon across now, they would be stranded on this side with no shelter and no food.

      He dismounted and slapped Devil’s rump, hard. The animal trotted down the bank and splashed into the river; with a knot in his gut, Lee watched him start to swim.

      He couldn’t afford to lose that horse. But right now he had other things to worry about. He grabbed Jenna around the waist, pushed her up onto the driver’s box and climbed up after her. While she covered them both with his rain poncho, he unwound the reins and flapped them over the oxen.

      Jenna slipped one arm around his middle, and he had to laugh. Did she think she could keep him from floating off the box? He shook the traces, and then they were rattling down the bank into the rain-swollen water.

      Almost immediately the wagon hit deep water and started to lift off the bottom. Still, Sue and Sunflower plowed inexorably forward until they were chest-high in muddy river water.

      Jenna’s arm tightened around him. It would feel great if he had time to relish the moment. But he didn’t.

      Ahead of them he watched Devil’s dark neck drifting downriver.

      “Got a whip?” he shouted.

      She shook her head.

      Well, hell. He needed something to urge the team on, a stick, a goad, anything. Should have thought to cut some willow switches. He yanked off his hat and swatted at their broad rumps, letting loose with some swearwords he hadn’t realized he knew.

      And then the current caught them broadside and swept the wagon downriver.

       Chapter Seven

      The wagon slewed sideways, and Jenna bit back a scream. A surge of terror rolled through her. The weight pulled the oxen off balance, and no matter how much Lee shouted and slapped at them with his sodden hat, the animals had to struggle to keep their footing.

      Suddenly he ripped off the poncho and slapped the thick leather reins into her hands. “Hold them tight,” he yelled.

      He jumped down off the box into the river and fought his way through waist-deep water until he reached the oxen. He gripped the side of Sue’s wooden yoke and half pushed, half pulled the animal toward the riverbank.

      The reins jerked and bucked in Jenna’s hands, but she resolved she would not let go. With Lee urging them on, Sue and Sunflower stumbled forward to a place where the bank flattened out and the exhausted animals heaved their heavy bodies up onto level land. The wagon splashed up behind them and ground to a stop just as Sam stepped forward to grip the harnesses.

      Inexplicably Jenna thought of the flour barrel. Had it gotten wet? Was their bedding dry? She sat with her head down, unable to move, until she heard a voice at her side.

      “You can let go now, Jenna.” Lee reached up and pried her fingers off the reins. Shaking, she inched across the driver’s box and put one foot on the iron step. Her knees turned to mush. She grabbed for the brake handle, then felt strong arms scoop her up.

      At that moment the sun broke through. Rainbows arched in the distance, beautiful wide bands of color shimmering through the mist. Lee set her down in front of Emma Lincoln, who handed her a tin cup of something. “Drink it up, dearie. You earned it.”

      Jenna gulped down a swallow and choked as something fiery slid past her throat. “Whiskey,” the older woman explained. “Warms your cockles.”

      It certainly warmed something. After two more gulps she decided she liked the effect.

      “The girls are drying off in our wagon, Jenna. Sam says as soon as you’re rested we’ll continue on for another hour and make camp early.” As she spoke, Sam stepped forward and settled his large hand on her shoulder.

      “Lucky day for you, I’d say. That Virginian’s got sand, all right.”

      “Sand?”

      “You know, grit. Courage. Smarts, too. Good man, like I said.” He gave Jenna’s shoulder a fatherly pat and moved away.

      They were lucky, she acknowledged. She glanced back at the wagon. Under the sun’s rays, steam rose from the canvas covering. She still wore Lee’s rain poncho and it, too, began to steam.

      Lee collected his horse from Sam and stood scratching the animal’s ear and talking to him. Then he tied him to the wagon and swung up onto the driver’s box. Jenna set the cup of whiskey on the bench and climbed up beside him. She lifted the poncho over her head and spread it out over her knees to dry.

      Lee looked pointedly at the tin cup. “You all right?” Without a word she offered him what was left. He kept his gray eyes on her and emptied the cup in one gulp.

      “Didn’t know you drank, Mrs. Borland.”

      “I didn’t know you had such a...colorful vocabulary, Mr. Carver. You have names for Sue and Sunflower I’ve never heard before.”

      “Made your ears burn, I’ll wager.”

      “And my eyes and my nose and everything else. Where did you learn such words?”

      “In the War.”

      After a short rest, the wagons once more began to roll along the now-muddy trail. Sue and Sunflower stepped sure-footedly over the slippery tracks ahead of them as if the day had not been the least unusual. For a split second Jenna envied them. Nothing seemed to bother them. They had no worries, really; all they had to do was follow orders and trust that the driver knew what he—or she—was doing.

      An hour later the wagon master called a halt. Jenna climbed into the wagon bed and checked over everything—food barrels, bedding, even the canvas sacks of beans and cornmeal. Amazingly, everything was dry except for Ruthie’s yellow poke bonnet, which had fallen onto the wet floor. Jenna laid it outside in the fading sun to dry.

      Evening fell. The air smelled sweet and fresh until smoke from the campfires drifted into a gray haze. Emma and Sam invited the girls to take supper with them, and all at once Jenna realized she was alone with Lee. She studied his tall form as he stood brushing his horse and drying off the saddle he stored in the rope rigging underneath the wagon.

      He would expect her to cook something. Pancakes, that was it. Rolled up, with blackberry jelly, if she could unearth the jar from inside the wagon. And coffee. Nothing could keep her awake tonight; she was so tired she ached all over.

      Lee brought water from the stream, poured some into a bowl for Devil and dipped enough into the coffeepot to half fill it, then set the bucket