An Unexpected Mother (The Colorado Brides Series Book 4) (2 page)

Mother and I wandered towards the river, finding it flowing swiftly. “It looks inviting,” she said, clutching a towel. “It’s good for a quick wash, I suppose.”

“That’s all we can ask for.”

Another family joined us; their children eyed the water expectantly. “Wish we could swim,” said the little boy. “I’d love to swim, Ma.”

“It’s dangerous, John.” She took his arm. “We’ll go down and wash up. Then I gotta make supper.”

After rinsing our hands and faces, mother and I returned to camp, discovering a fire had been lit. There were pits surrounded by rocks left from previous campers. Our stack of firewood was running low. The men felled trees often, providing wood for those who needed it, although we scoured the ground mostly, picking up dried branches and such.

Mother looked determined. “We’ll need the Dutch oven tonight. I’m making corn fritters and baked beans.” She eyed me sympathetically. “I’m sorry, my love, but we’re low on essentials.”

“Beans again.”

Father repositioned one of the logs. “No one hunted today. It’s too late now. Maybe they’ll go out in the morning.”

“We can hold on one more day,” said mother. “Tomorrow we’ll be in Ft. Laramie. Then we’ll have a proper meal for your wedding celebration.”

The mention of my wedding left me feeling oddly anxious. I had never seen Jason Hatch before in person, although he had sent me a calotype print of himself. He appeared youthful and handsome in the photograph, but it was hardly a substitute for meeting someone in the flesh. I had given him a drawing my older sister, Louisa, had made of me. He had expressed his gratitude upon seeing it, declaring the portrait fetching. He’d said I was the loveliest woman he had ever beheld, but I was sure he was only flattering me.

After supper, we gathered around the fire. Mother and I had blankets over our shoulders, while father kept a lamp nearby for reading. It was still incredibly dim, but he enjoyed his books. We slept in the wagon, preferring it to the tents that so many set up and had to take apart again in the morning. My parents had sold all of their household items, including the house itself, keeping only the necessities. The interior of our wagon was rather messy, cluttered with hanging dresses, a bedframe, a table, and boxes of items and rugs. A lamp hung from the center. My parents were better off than most of the homesteaders. Once they had claimed land, they would begin building immediately.

In the morning, the sounds of coughing and a crying baby woke me. I found myself alone on the bedding. Mother was nearby, using a washcloth and a small bucket of water to bathe, her back turned to me. Father made noise outside, resulting in the clanging of a pan.

“Oh, it’s so early,” I complained.

“You’ve slept in longer than yesterday.”

“I’ve never been so tired in my life.”

“I slept well, but I’ve a crick in my neck.” She dunked the cloth in the water, wiping her face. “I should be in my comfortable house, preparing for morning visitors, not getting ready for another fourteen miles of infernal wilderness.”

“We’re nearly there. It won’t be long after Ft. Laramie, then Independence Rock. The paths diverge from there, and we’ll be on our way to Denver City.”

“Only a few families are going that way. It’ll be a small group. They say it’s dangerous.”

“We have plenty of guns. It’ll be fine, mother. If anything moves, I’m sure father will shoot it. You mustn’t worry about that. Not once have the Indians bothered us.”

“What about all those burned wagons? What happened to those poor people?”

“I haven’t a clue.”

“Do you want me to save this water for you?”

“Yes, please. I need to make myself as presentable as possible. I’m meeting my husband today.” Anxiety pricked at this declaration.

She smiled, the edges of her eyes crinkling. “You are indeed. I hope he’s as amiable and good-natured as your father, my dear. You’ve been corresponding for more than a year now. You should know his character well enough. I trust you’ve made the right choice.”

“We can only hope.”

I wanted to share in her optimism, but a strange feeling had been needling me for several weeks now. I had pushed it aside, but the closer I came to meeting Jason Hatch, the more it had grown. This must be what wedding nerves were about.

Chapter Two

I ate breakfast on the wagon; the corn muffins were hearty and delicious. Mother was adept at creating fast meals that were edible, although the homestead stew we had eaten several days ago hadn’t agreed with me. It was common to hear of intestinal complaints, and I surmised this was because we had to ration water, especially since we had not encountered a spring for many miles. The last one had been contaminated.

All these troubles would be behind us soon enough. The wagon master called a meeting before we left. He’d announced that by midday, we should be arriving at the fort, although the troops had been withdrawn to fight in the war. Volunteer regiments had taken their place, but we were assured that we would be safe, and that the trading post was well-stocked. Freight wagons came through regularly. Upon hearing these announcements, people cheered and joyous cries resounded. Exhausted and saddle-sore, many looked forward to resting for a few days.

As the oxen plodded along, I kept a sharp eye out for the fort, scanning the horizon often, searching for anything that looked manmade. It would be several hours before smoke in the distance sent a murmur through the caravan, a sense of excitement propelling those before us to encourage their animals to walk faster.

“That must be it.” Father pointed. “Hope it didn’t burn down.”

“If only I knew where the spyglass was,” said mother. “I’ve packed things too well. It would be useful to have it.”

“It’s the fort. We don’t need anything special to see it. We’ll be there in another hour or two.”

Knowing that I was in sight of Fort Laramie, my stomach began to buzz with nervous energy. My future husband was waiting for me. I would be married tomorrow and tomorrow night…oh, I couldn’t think of such things. If he were a gentleman, he wouldn’t demand his conjugal rights immediately, especially since we were strangers. I had hoped he would give me some time to get to know him, but this was only a guess.

The road followed the gentle climb of the foothills, winding its way towards the northward flowing Laramie River, which joined with the Platte River to the south. The fort was larger than I had expected, its walls formidable, hiding the buildings that lay within. Our wagon master guided us to a vast grassy area, where the animals would be able to feed to their heart’s content.

In a fit of nerves, I began to fuss with my hair, tucking in wayward strands that had blown free of confinement. I could only pray there wasn’t dirt on my face. It had been gusty earlier, but the dust hadn’t blown as badly.

Mother placed her hand over mine. “Don’t fret, my dear. You look lovely.”

“Thank you.”

“He might not even be here yet,” said father. “We’ve made good time.” He stepped from the wagon. “Need to unyoke these animals. Bet they’re starving.”

“I’ll start on lunch.”

I gazed at the chaos, as families let their children run free, while unloading tents. It was a treat to be able to remain in one place for a while, and I eyed the river, delighted by its proximity. Washing up would be easy. While lunch was prepared, father had gone to the fort, eager to buy provisions. I expected him to return with my betrothed, knowing that he was here…somewhere. There had been another group of settlers that had arrived before us, but they were only six wagons. Ours held nearly fifty. As tents sprung up and children settled down, a lazy pall descended, and many took this opportunity to either wash up in the river, do laundry, or nap. I waited for father’s return, wondering what was taking him so long. When my impatience would not be held back another moment, I set out to find him, strolling amongst campfires, listening to dozens of conversations.

“There’s that pretty darlin’,” said a male voice.

“Come say hello to us, girly.”

I glanced at a swarthy group of miners. “Good day, sirs.” They sat by a fire, although they had let it burn out.

“You sure are a pretty thing.”

Ducking my head, I hid beneath the brim of the bonnet, embarrassment coloring my cheeks. I was hardly a beauty, although these men had been without female companionship for weeks. That explained their boldness, but it was still rude. I sent out a silent prayer that my future husband wasn’t as coarse, but one had to wonder.

Rounding a wagon, I approached the towering adobe structure before me, spying the doors. A line of homesteaders waited to go in, but I didn’t want to stand in it, suspecting father was inside already. I lingered in the heat, feeling lightheaded. Leaning against a fence, I stared at the dirt beneath my feet, spying a line of black ants.

“There you are.”

“Where have you been?”

“Don’t you want to meet your fiancé, my dear? I found him, Fanny.”

I tamped down a moment of sheer panic, my heart hammering in my chest. Afraid to look at the man who stood next to my father, I forced myself to do so, seeing someone who wasn’t much taller than I was, even with a hat on. He didn’t look like the man in the calotype print, and I assumed the picture had been taken several years ago. He wore trousers and a faded calico shirt, with a thick leather belt. A weapon hung within a holster at his thigh and scuffed boots were on his feet. I swallowed a fair amount of disappointment, realizing that I didn’t care for his looks one bit, especially the bland, yet curious, expression on his face, which was hidden by a substantial beard.

He held out a weathered hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Fanny Hoffman.”

“H-hello.” I gave him my hand, which he brought awkwardly to his mouth, kissing several fingers. “How do you do?”

“I’m sure glad you showed up, Miss. I was startin’ to worry that you’d changed your mind about our arrangement.”

His speech held a hint of twang, which was slightly grating. “I…we’ve been on schedule, sir.”

“Looks like you showed up in one piece. You’re prettier than the drawing.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m a lucky man to have such a pretty wife.”

“Well, we aren’t married yet, sir.”

“Not till tomorrow.” He grinned, flashing chipped, yellow teeth.

“Why don’t you join us at our campsite?” Father smiled amiably, clearly finding the situation amusing. “My wife’s making lunch as we speak.”

“I’d be pleased to join you fine people.” His gaze roamed over me. “And my beautiful wife-to-be. You sure look better in person, if you don’t mind me sayin’ so.”

“Thank you.”

We walked towards our wagon, father prattling on about this and that, but my mind had taken flight. Was this the same person I had been communicating with in all those letters? I felt doubt in that instant, knowing that I would have to covertly question the man, to make sure I wasn’t being deceived. He couldn’t possibly be the same person, could he?

After we said grace, father bending his head to thank the Lord for guiding us this far, we ate fried bacon with slapjacks, which were smothered in molasses. I chewed the food with difficulty, feeling eyes upon me. Mr. Hatch’s interest was acute. He was wholly fixated, and I couldn’t help feeling twinges of revulsion. It was imperative that I have a private discussion with him to assure myself that he was the same person, as in the letters.

Once we had eaten, I took the plates, intending to wash them in the river. “Mr. Hatch. Would you accompany me, sir?”

His smile was off-putting. “I’d be delighted to.”

My parents exchanged a glance, and I thought I saw concern in mother’s eyes. “How long have you been waiting at Fort Laramie?”

“Two days. I got here lickety-split. Denver City’s only a week away, but it was faster cuz I got me a horse.”

“I see.”

“You sure are purdy to look at, Miss Hoffman. Me and you are gonna do just fine, I believe. You’re still gonna marry me, right?”

It was an effort to speak, my throat having constricted. “I…have some questions, sir, if you don’t mind me asking things of a personal nature.”

“Ask all you want.”

“Um…will your family from Arkansas be joining us?”

He looked perplexed. “I ain’t got no family there. I told you I was from Missouri.”

“Oh, my goodness, yes. I’m sorry.” He had passed that portion of the questioning with flying colors…unfortunately. “You have two brothers, correct?”

“Three. Did you read my letters at all?”

“It must be the sun. My mind feels…foggy.” We wandered down to the river. Fort Laramie was bordered by water on both sides. “I won’t be a minute. I have to rinse these.”

He stood nearby, as I bent, washing the metal plates. “You doubt it’s me, huh?”

“What?”

“You’re testing me to see if I’m who I say I am. I got all your letters with me, Fanny. I’d be happy to show ‘em to you to prove that I am Jason Hatch.”

I stood, facing him. “I was making sure, sir. I hope you can forgive me, but I had to be certain.”

He grinned. “That’s mighty sensible of you. I’m glad I ain’t marrying no stupid woman. I like a female with some brains.”

His letters were written with a fair amount of eloquence. I now wondered if he had someone else compose them. My spirits had sunk to new lows, knowing that I had to marry this man, but…perhaps I could find a way out. There had to be an escape route.
Oh, please, dear Lord. I don’t really have to follow through with my promise, do I?

But, I had agreed to be his fiancé. I had made a promise in good faith. In that moment, it felt as if the earth shifted beneath my feet, the sky suddenly tilting. Perhaps it was the heat or my tumultuous state of mind, but I felt myself swaying, falling, until I landed on the dusty ground in a heap of fabric and petticoats. When I woke, I opened my eyes, staring at the wooden slats of our wagon, the canvas top shielding me from the elements.

“How are you, Fanny?” Mother peered at me, worry lines etched into her forehead. “You fainted, my love.”

“It’s too awful to bear,” I whispered, not knowing who was nearby.