Oregon Trail Boxed Set Page 11

  Chuckling, Davis shook his head and climbed up alongside her. The clanging and rattling of pots and pans commenced as the wagons rolled forward.

  About thirty minutes after the wagons began their trek, Nate rode up alongside the Cooper wagon, again tipping his hat. “You folks will notice the landscape changing soon. We’ll be seeing some snow covered peaks soon.” He addressed Davis. “Ezra is getting up another hunting party this afternoon. If you think Emma can drive the wagon, we could use your help. We’re trying to get as much fresh meat as we can before we get too far into the mountains.”

  “I reckon I can do that.” Davis turned to Emma “Do you think you can handle the wagon, darlin’?” Emma nodded, still distracted by her newly discovered news.

  “Be ready right after the noon break, Cooper.” With that terse statement, Nate wheeled his horse and rode off.

  12

  About an hour after Davis left with the hunting party dark clouds rolled in over the wagons making their way toward the mountains. Emma nervously eyed the sky as she guided the animals along the trail. Within minutes the clouds darkened, the temperature dropped, and the wind picked up. She kept glancing at the sky, wishing Davis had not gone with the hunting party. As the wind grew stronger, it became difficult to keep the animals moving; they shifted with restlessness, making it harder to control them.

  A scout rode up behind her wagon. “Mrs. Cooper, you need to stop and tie down your wagon canvas better. The wind’s going to whip it off.” He shouted over his shoulder as he continued on down the line. Emma pulled hard on the reins, and the animals came to a stop. They snorted and stomped as she frantically crawled back into the wagon, pushing boxes and barrels aside to get close enough to anchor the ties better.

  The animals bellowed, crying out as their fear increased. The wind whipped one side of the canvas and flipped it over the top. Emma edged up on the side of the wagon, bracing her knees against a post to grab for the tie, dragging it back down. She barely got it tied when rain started off as soft plops, then soon turned into a cacophony of drumming on the canvas.

  Lightening, the likes of which she had never seen before, streaked to the ground in rapid succession, close to the wagon, followed by earth shaking thunder. Emma’s heart sped up, and clamping her hands over her ears, she crawled into a corner, wrapping her arms around herself. Water gushed into the wagon as rain poured down, whipped frantically by the heavy winds. One side of the canvas became loose and flapped. A small pellet of ice hit her in the cheek.

  Startled, she jumped up, grabbed the canvas again, and was smacked in the nose. Hailstones the size of marbles bounced on the ground, giving the whole area a look of a winter snowfall. The noise was deafening, and a terrified Emma crawled back to her corner, praying and wiping her face of the rain mixed with salty tears.

  Hail continued to pelt the canvas, tearing small holes, which soon provided more openings for the rain to pour in. The fierceness of the storm turned the ground into mud. The animals outside continued to snort and bellow, and in their terror started moving the wagon forward. But the mud caused the wagon to slide sideways.

  Frantic, Emma crawled back onto the front of the wagon, and reached for reins that were no longer there, but dangling between the two oxen. Clinging to the seat, all she could do was watch helplessly as the wagon continued to slide, heading toward a rapidly filing creek.

  The pounding grew harder as she watched in horror as the muddy water of the creek grew closer. Soaked to the skin, and shivering from fear and the cold rain, Emma looked up and realized the new pounding was coming from horses headed in her direction. Sheets of rain practically hid the hunting party who’d returned. Six horses split off, headed toward their own wagons, two others raced toward Emma.

  “I lost the reins,” she shouted over the thundering. Her body shook uncontrollably.

  “Hang on,” Davis yelled as he slid off his horse and climbed onto the wagon. Nate pulled his horse up on the other side, hopped off, then jumped on one ox. Lying prone, he reached for the hanging rein. He whipped it back in Davis’s direction, who caught it, then grabbed the other one Nate threw back. Using all his strength, Davis stood and pulled on the reins to stop the animals from moving. Nate crawled back onto the seat.

  The wagon continued to slither toward the creek. Emma covered her eyes with her hands as Nate put his arm around her shoulders, hugging her close. Davis finally got the animals to stop, but the back of the wagon continued its slide toward the rushing water. Just as the back wheel hit the water, it wedged against a large boulder and with a groan and cracking sound, the wagon came to a stop. Rain continued to pour down. Davis pulled his hat lower and wiped his forehead with his arm.

  Glancing over at Nate and Emma, he shouted above the racket of the storm. “Much obliged for your help, Hale, now get your hands the hell off my wife.”

  “I’m only comforting her,” Nate shouted back, “she’s shivering from the cold.”

  “If there’s to be any comforting going on, I’ll be the one to do it. Now remove your hands.”

  Nate slowly removed his arm and Davis dragged Emma over to his chest. “Thanks again, Hale, I’ll take over from here.”

  Emma straightened. “Yes, thanks, Nate. We’ll be fine now.”

  With tightened lips, Nate nodded and slid off the wagon seat to the ground. Mounting his horse, he rode off leaving them sitting in the pouring rain.

  “Come on, darlin’, you’re shivering, and I’m a bit cold myself.” Davis left the seat and reached for her.

  “I was so scared. You have no idea. I never saw a storm like this before.”

  “I know honey, that’s why we came back as soon as it started. We knew with how dry everything was there would be a chance of flooding.” The mud sucked on their shoes as they sloshed through the water to the back of the wagon.

  “We’ll need to leave our wet clothes out here, or we’ll muddy up the wagon worse than it is. I’ll go first.” Massive shivers raced through her body.

  She took off her shoes with stiff, cold fingers, then dropped them into the mud. With rigid movements, she crawled into the wagon, staying on the very edge. She peeled wet clothes off and threw each piece outside the wagon, hitting Davis square in the face with her drawers. He pulled them from his face and smiled. “You ready yet, woman, I’m freezing out here.”

  “Yes, come on in.” Emma wiped her freezing body with a drying cloth, then reached for a wrapper. Davis stripped down and made plopping sounds as he too tossed his clothes outside. After handing him a cloth, Emma undid her braids and rubbed her hair. By the time they had dried off, the sun had broken through.

  Davis eyed Emma as she stood, shaking.

  “Come here, darlin’. You’re rocking the wagon.”

  “But.but.the wa-wa-wagon. We sh-sh-should fix it.”

  He sat on a partially dry box and pulled her to his chest, running his palms up and down her back. She buried her head into his shoulder like a small animal burrowing its way into its home. Davis reached down and dragged a dry blanket from under a shelf, and wrapped them both in it.

  “This will warm you up.” His head descended and he brought his lips to hers in a possessive kiss.

  Emma slid her arms around his waist.

  “Yow! You’re fingers are cold.” Davis pulled her hands from his back and rubbed them between his. He knelt and pulled her down with him, once more claiming her mouth. “Let’s see if I can warm you up, wife.”

  Emma sighed, not quite as cold as she’d been.

  * * *

  The wagon train remained at the creek for two days. Wind, hail, and heavy rain had damaged just about every wagon. Emma and Davis kept busy sewing up holes in the canvas, and dragging everything out to set in the sunshine to dry out. Davis spent a lot of time reinforcing the wagon and fixing the cracked wheel. Up and down the line the sound of hammering and cussing rang out as the men repaired the damage. The women made good use of the creek to wash clothes covered with mud, draping them ov
er bushes to dry. Since everything had been soaked by the storm, campfires were small and smoky. Families gathered together to share fires and cooking.

  Emma wrung out one of Davis’s shirts when she jerked from a voice behind her.

  “Morning, Emma.”

  Startled, she turned, lifting her hand to shade her eyes from the sun. “Morning, Nate.” She returned to her task.

  “How badly were your things damaged?” He walked around to face her.

  “Actually, not too bad, all things considered. I have a lot of washing to do, as you can see.” She shrugged and gestured toward a large pile of clothes waiting to be scrubbed. “Our wagon had some damage from the crash, but Davis is shoring it up now. How about you?”

  “Our tent collapsed with the force of the hail and rain, and like you we had a lot of clothes muddied up. Our bedrolls are drying in the sun now.” His face flushed, and he took in a deep breath. “I’d like the chance to talk to you sometime. You know, when we can be alone.” He looked down into her face.

  Emma chewed on her lip and glanced around. Davis was quite a distance away, working on the wagon, his back to them.

  “Well, I’m alone now. You can speak.” She twisted the shirt in her hands with nervous tugs.

  Nate reached out and touched her cheek. “Why, Emma?”

  She moved away from his touch. “Why, what?” Finished torturing the shirt, she headed to the bush to drape it.

  “Why did you marry a nobody, a stranger? You couldn’t have known him more than a few weeks. Do you know anything about him? His family? Why, he could even be wanted by the law. Or have half a dozen wives all over the country.” His face grew redder, eyes flashing.

  “Yes, it’s true, I only knew Davis a few weeks, but I pretty much had no choice. When Peter died, I tried for a while to go it alone, but I couldn’t. It’s too much work for a woman to be on the trail by herself. I had nursed Davis, who was injured in the same accident that killed Peter. We got along.” She picked up another shirt and scrubbed the garment in her hands vigorously as she spoke.

  “Also, Davis is an honorable man.” Wiping her forehead with the sleeve of her dress, she turned to him. “He’s kind, considerate and hard working. I don’t feel as if I have anything to fear from him.”

  “What about love, Emma? You and Peter loved each other. You can’t possibly love someone you only just met.”

  Sighing, she returned her washing. “Love grows, Nate. It’s done; I’m married.”

  “It might not be done. If you married him by force, your marriage could be annulled. I’ll look into it for you when we get to Oregon.”

  “Nate, please. Let it go.” She returned to her scrubbing.

  “Corporal Hale, imagine meeting you here with my wife. It appears you’ve lost your way. If I’m not mistaken, your tent is down yonder.” Davis gestured with his chin, standing behind Nate with legs spread, his hands shoved into his back pockets.

  “We were just talking, Cooper. No harm in that.” Nate flushed, his hands fisted at his side.

  “Well, you’ve had your conversation, and it’s time for me and Emma to go back to our wagon for our noon meal. I’d invite you to come along, but I know you have other things to do.” He nodded his head in Nate’s direction, reached out for Emma, and started to pull her along.

  “Davis, wait.” She tugged herself free. “I have all this washing to do. You go on back and have your meal. It’s wrapped in a cloth inside the wagon.”

  Davis looked over at Nate, and waited patiently until the soldier turned, then stalked back to his tent.

  13

  The next morning Davis was awakened by the sound of Emma again vomiting outside the wagon. After a few minutes of the sound of her swishing water in her mouth, then spitting it out, she crept back into the wagon.

  “Darlin’, when do you plan to tell me?” Davis rolled over, propped himself up on one elbow, and looked at her pale face.

  She placed both hands over her stomach and glanced nervously in his direction. “Um, what do you mean?”

  “You’ve been taking these treks outside the wagon every morning for over a week. If you don’t know what that means, I’ll be glad to enlighten you.” He hauled her to his chest, inhaling deeply of her rose-scented hair.

  She placed her hands on his shoulders and pushed back to regard him. “Oh, look at you smiling like a strutting rooster.” Her face lit up. “I just couldn’t believe it. Dr. Bennett said I’ll probably give birth a few months after we reach Oregon. Since nothing had happened after my months with Peter, I thought maybe there was something wrong with me.”

  He smoothed back the curls from her face. “Sometimes it’s the rooster and not the hen you know.” Emma grabbed the pillow and swatted him with it. “You and your rooster. Stop smiling like that.” She averted her eyes. “I was worried you might not be too happy. I have no idea how you feel about children.” Her troubled gaze met his.

  “Sweetheart, children are the result of what we’ve been doing a whole lot of.” He grinned as a deep blush spread from her neck to her hairline. He was tempted to pull the nightgown out to see if the blush went all the way down to…

  “I’m scared though.” She reached for her dress. “I don’t know anything about Oregon, I don’t know any people there, and my parents are so far away.”

  “You’ll be fine. Women have babies every day, and not all of them have their mamas with them.”

  She knelt alongside him. “If I was back in Indiana, my mama…”

  “You’re not in Indiana, Emma,” he snapped. “And I’m tired of discussing that place.” His stomach clenching, he jumped up, grabbed his pants, and struggled into them before stalking from the wagon.

  Indiana. He sluiced water over his face and mumbled to himself. The woman’s brain was stuck on that accursed place. How Peter Thorpe managed to drag her away from her parents to begin with baffled him. In many ways Emma was a capable intelligent woman. In other ways she was a little girl. The letter she’d sent still troubled him. And why was Corporal Nathan Hale traveling with them? That was another thorn in his side. Not that he was jealous, he assured himself, just looking out for his own.

  * * *

  The next couple of weeks passed with monotonous regularity. Emma continued to visit the bushes in the morning, and found it necessary to take a nap every afternoon. She saw quite a bit of Nate, but their relationship was simply a nod and “good morning.” That was fine with her. She liked Nate, always had, but lately the looks he threw her made her decidedly uncomfortable. Also, Davis tensed up when she was around Nate, so keeping her distance was best.

  She knew it couldn’t be jealousy because she and Davis didn’t have that kind of a relationship. She was fond of Davis, enjoyed his company, and no doubt could depend on him. But she still loved Peter.

  With a jolt she realized she hadn’t thought of Peter in a while. What did that mean? Then again, she had other things to occupy her mind. Smiling, she put her hands over her stomach in the age-old way of expectant mothers. A baby! She couldn’t believe it.

  “Help! Get the doctor.” The sound of running and shouting pulled Emma from her thoughts. Crowds of people gathered in a circle, staring down at something. She hurried over to where Nate lay on the ground, blood pouring from what appeared to be a gunshot wound in his side.

  Strong hands jostled her aside as Dr. Bennett worked his way through the crowd. “Stand aside, everyone, give me room to work.” He quickly bent and examined the soldier. Sweat poured from his pale face as he gulped air. Emma hoped the bullet hadn’t punctured his lung.

  “One of you women start heating water, and bring me all the clean cloths you can gather.” He glanced around and spotted Emma in the crowd.

  “Miz Cooper, we need a place to work on Corporal Hale, can we transport him to your wagon? It’s the closest.” Without waiting for confirmation, he moved to get up. “Some of you men carry him carefully into the Cooper wagon.”

  Confusion reigned as several
men tried to move Nate. The pool of blood left on the ground after the men picked him up turned Emma’s already sensitive stomach. Dr. Bennett had placed a cloth over the wound to absorb some of the blood as they walked. By the time Nate reached the wagon, he’d passed out.

  Taking off his jacket, and rolling up his sleeves, the doctor turned to Emma. “Ma’am, do you have a pair of scissors handy?”

  Emma reached into one of her boxes and fumbled around until she produced the scissors.

  “You’re going to have to cut his jacket and shirt off, Emma, so I can get a good look at this.” The doctor returned his attention to the patient.

  Emma’s vision blurred and she kept swallowing as her stomach rebelled at the sight of the blood and gaping hole in Nate’s side.

  “Woman, get busy with that scissors, so I can work on this man!” Dr. Bennett shouted over his shoulder as he pulled things from his bag.

  Emma shook her head, knelt, and began cutting. About halfway through, she gave out a small moan and passed out on top of an unconscious Nate.

  * * *

  “For God’s sake, is there anyone here who can help me with this soldier?” Dr. Bennett shouted. “Get this woman out of here and get me someone who can stay on her feet.”

  Davis strode up in time to see his wife collapse on top of Nate and hear the doctor’s words. He scooted into the wagon, picked her up and carried her outside. Abigail Preston joined Dr. Bennett in Emma’s place.

  “What happened here?” Davis asked one of the bystanders.

  “It looks like Corporal Hale got hisself shot. Dr. Bennett wanted Emma to help him, but she passed out. I guess all that blood got to her.”

  Davis lay Emma down and began softly tapping her cheek. “Get me some water, somebody, please.” He opened the top buttons of her dress and continued trying to revive her. Emma’s lashes fluttered open, confusion clearly plain on her face.