Wagon Train Reunion. Linda Ford

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 pinched.

      Father climbed down. “I’ll walk beside the beasts.”

      Abby understood it was to ensure they continued in the right direction, but she didn’t mind. To be honest, the big animals made her mouth go dry.

      Within minutes she understood why Mother looked as if she were in constant pain. The wagon jerked and jolted causing the wooden bench to constantly whap Abby’s rear. Even with a quilt folded for them to sit on, her bottom hurt almost as much as her feet and her neck ached. How were they going to endure two thousand miles of this? Perhaps Mother was right. The Binghams were too soft for such a challenging journey.

      Abby’s spine stiffened. Her chin jutted out. Bingham or Black. Rich or poor. She meant to finish this trip. She meant to survive. More than that, she would become strong and capable, because at the end, she saw nothing but freedom. She nodded at the big ox. Liberty was his name. Liberty was her aim.

      With every jolt of the long afternoon, her determination grew. When they approached the stopping place, she changed places with Father so he could guide the wagon into the circle.

      And if every bone in her body protested, she ignored them. She had things to do. Even before the animals had been set free to graze, she set out to get firewood and returned with an armload in double-quick time. Others had done the same thing so likely no one took note of her actions.

      It didn’t matter. She had proved to herself she was capable of one thing. Now she meant to prove another and measured out floor, lard and milk. She rolled the dough on the little table Martin set out.

      She squinted at the slab of dough. “What is that?” Black dots. She picked one out.

      Sally and Emma bent over the dough.

      “Did you sift the flour?” Sally asked softly.

      “No, I was in hurry.”

      Sally chuckled. “Sometimes it doesn’t pay to be in a hurry. I’m afraid a mouse has been into your flour. Those are mice droppings.”

      Abby stepped back in horror. “Mice. We’ll have to toss out all the flour.”

      Emma shook her head. “You can sift it out. And likely it’s only in one corner. I’ll have a look if you like.”

      Rachel grinned so wide it was a wonder her face didn’t crack.

      Abby bit back the angry words rushing to her mouth. She grabbed the dough and hurried outside the circled wagons. She reached some bushes and shoved the dough into the branches. Let some hungry animal eat it. Maybe some mice. Let them choke on their own droppings.

      She fell on her knees, her breath coming in gasps. Why, oh, why was she so inept?

      After a moment, her breathing calmed, although her mind continued to twist and turn. She pushed to her feet and headed back to the camp. This little setback would not deter her. She would learn.

      As she approached the wagons, she heard her name and paused to listen. The voice was Rachel’s.

      “Imagine wasting all those supplies.”

      Abby edged forward trying to see who Rachel talked to.

      Then a man spoke. “Give her a chance.”

      Ben. She pressed her hand to her throat. She’d know his voice anywhere. He sounded weary. Weary of her failures? She closed her eyes. Lord, help me. Help me learn what I need to do. Most of all, give me strength to see Ben every day and not be filled with regret at what might have been.

      Again she reminded herself that what might have been was a romantic dream. Never again would she trust a man enough to give him the right to own her.

      She calmed her heart knowing she didn’t make this journey alone. Yes, she had her parents. But she also had God. He’d been her strength and solid rock of refuge for many years. In fact, she remembered clearly when she’d learned to love Him so.

      Not ready to rejoin the others, she leaned against the nearest wagon wheel and let her memories flow. It was at special meetings held in the school. There she also had met Ben. She’d seen him before, but their paths seldom passed until then.

      An itinerant preacher held the meetings.