Westward Hearts (16 page)

The woman scowled. “Where’s your wagon?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Elizabeth assured her. “Do you know where I can find Captain—”

“Are you
signed up
for this wagon train?” the woman asked with a skeptical expression. “Because this wagon train is already more than full up. And we’re about ready to go. You can’t just sashay in here with a pretty smile and expect to join up at the eleventh hour.”

“I beg your pardon.” Elizabeth stood to her full height, several inches taller than this rude woman. “I am here to see Captain Brownlee. If you don’t know his whereabouts, will you please excuse—”

“Can I help you?”

Elizabeth turned to see a long-legged man swinging gracefully down from a tall Appaloosa. With his dark shaggy hair and fringed buckskins, she thought for a moment that he was an Indian. But upon closer inspection, she thought perhaps she was wrong. “Excuse me?” she said to him.

“Can I help you?” he said again.

The portly woman stepped in between them now. “These women just showed up and they seem to think they’re gonna join our wagon train,” she told the dark-haired man. “But, as you can see, they ain’t even got a wagon. I was just trying to find out if they were lost or something.”

“Are you lost?” the man asked Elizabeth.

“I don’t believe I am,” she told him. “My father has been in contact with the captain.”

“What’s your father’s name?”

“Asa Dawson,” Clara said importantly. “I am Mrs. Dawson. And I assure you that my husband Asa has—”

“Ah, the Dawson party.” He nodded. “We have the Dawsons down for two wagons. And we’re still waiting for the Martin party.”

“I am the Martin party,” Elizabeth told him.

His dark brows went up. “You’re traveling by yourself?”

“No good’ll come of that,” the nosy woman declared. “A lone woman on a—”

“I’m not alone,” Elizabeth told her.

“That’s right,” Ruth declared. “Mama’s not alone. Me and my brother are going with her.”

“A lone woman with youngins!” The intrusive woman shook her head and grumbled. “Nothing but trouble.”

“Elizabeth is not traveling alone,” Clara said to the woman. Then she turned to the man. “She has her parents and her brother as well.”

“And Brady,” Ruth said importantly. “And Flax too. He’s our dog.”

The man looked slightly amused but then grew more serious as he turned back to Elizabeth. “Who is driving your wagon?”

“I am,” she told him.

He frowned. “Do you know how to drive a team?”

“I do.” She looked evenly at him. He might have been a few inches taller than her, but she felt she could stand up to him. “I assure you I will not be a problem.”

“What will you do when you break down?” the woman asked. “You know how to change a wagon wheel? Can you fix a broken axle?”

“Her father and her brother and Brady will help her,” Clara told the woman.

The man frowned and then looked over her shoulder. “And where’s the rest of your party, ma’am? And your wagons?”

“They’re unloading them from the riverboat.”

“You brought your wagons by boat?” Now the woman actually laughed.

Ignoring her, Elizabeth turned back to the man. “You know our names, but we don’t know who you are.”

He nodded. “My apologies, ma’am. Name is Eli Kincaid. I’m the scout for this wagon train.”

Now Elizabeth explained about coming ahead of the wagons. “My father wanted me to find out where they should camp the wagons. I was going back to meet them on the road and direct them. We’re concerned for our animals. They were more than two weeks on the river and—”

“You’re bringing stoved-up animals with you?” The woman pursed her lips.

Elizabeth was fed up with this woman, but trying hard not to show it. “I’m sorry,” she said tersely. “But I don’t even know you. I am trying to talk to Mr. Kincaid about our arrangements, and I do not see how that has anything to do with you.”

“Nothing to do with me?” It was clear this busybody was mad now. “I’ll have you know that everybody on this here wagon train has something to do with everybody else. If you are the weakest link, and I’ll wager you are, you could put the rest of us in serious peril.” She shook her finger at Elizabeth. “If this train gets slowed down by folks trying to take care of you and your youngins, you’ll be putting all of us in danger. And if you don’t respect that, you don’t belong here.”

Elizabeth blinked, trying to gauge her words and not wanting to set a bad example for Ruth. “I do respect that. But you don’t know me, and you have no right to judge me.”

“That’s right,” Clara said. “Elizabeth is a very responsible woman. She’s been running her own farm. And, like we keep trying to tell you, she is
not
traveling alone. She has her whole family backing her.”

“Why don’t you let me handle this, Gertrude?” Mr. Kincaid smiled at the older woman, revealing a nice even set of white teeth. “We appreciate your concern for the well-being of this train, but you can best serve by tending to your own campsite.” He nodded over to where a couple of adolescent boys were having a knife-throwing contest, using a bucket on the side of a wagon as a target. To Elizabeth’s relief, the woman huffed off.

“Thank you.” Elizabeth let out a little sigh.

“Gertrude tends to speak her mind. But she’s not a bad person.”

“No, I don’t expect she is. But right now I’d like to go meet the wagons and direct them. Where would you like them to park, Mr. Kincaid?”

“I don’t cotton much to ‘mister.’ Just call me Eli.”

“Fine.” She nodded. “Where would you like my family to camp our wagons and livestock?” Elizabeth looked around the already crowded camp. “And when do you expect the wagon train to depart?”

“I’m not sure of the exact day yet, but it’s getting closer. I’m leaving first thing in the morning to see how the grasslands are looking. Everyone thinks just because the sun is shining, we should be on our way. But weather can be misleading. My best guess is that we still have a week for the grass to get tall enough.” Now he walked them over to the edge of the other campers to show them where they should park the wagons. He also told them a few rules of the wagon train, which sounded just like common decency to Elizabeth.

She thanked him, and after he left, she and Clara and Ruth walked through their campsite, picking spots for the wagons and a larger area where they could pen up the livestock by running ropes between the trees. “Why don’t you two rest here.” Elizabeth pointed to a log that looked like it might double as a bench. “I’ll go find the men.”

As she walked past Gertrude’s campsite, Elizabeth still felt slightly rankled at the intrusive woman. She wondered what made a person act so persnickety and mean. Elizabeth hoped they wouldn’t cross paths too much during their travels. With a wagon train this size, it seemed a realistic expectation. Now she thought about Mr. Kincaid, or Eli as he preferred. A bit rough around the edges, but he seemed nice enough. And he was well spoken and appeared kind and trustworthy. And yes, she had to admit to herself as she walked back toward town, he was handsome in a rugged sort of way.

I
t was late in the day by the time all three wagons were parked in the space allotted to them. Now the process of setting up camp was begun, and there was much to do. But first Elizabeth wanted to check on the animals.

“I’m glad we stopped off for hay and grain today,” Asa told her as they worked together to remove a yoke. Despite having Brady’s additional help, Elizabeth still felt responsible to contribute to the feeding and care of the livestock. And right now, thanks to Gertrude’s acidic comments, she was particularly interested in the condition of her own team, which to her relief seemed to be fairly good.

“Good old Beau,” Elizabeth said as she stroked the sleek black neck of her most beloved horse. She reached around to attach the feed bag. Percheron draft horses were still relatively rare in this country, a French breed that James had invested in a few years before his death. At the time, he had intended to purchase a colt and a filly in the hopes of raising Percherons, but the breeder had surprised him by sending a gelding and a mare instead. James had complained at first, even threatening to return the horses, but they were such beautiful animals, Elizabeth had encouraged him to keep them.

As it turned out, the Percherons were the most dependable draft horses on the farm. They were not only strong and intelligent but also exceedingly handsome. Elizabeth had even considered breeding Bella, the mare, with another one of her draft horses in hopes of securing mixed Percherons for the future. Perhaps she would pursue this further in Oregon.

“We can take care of this,” Asa told her. “If you’d like, you could help Clara with supper. I know we’re all hungry as bears.”

She nodded. “I’m sure Mother will appreciate some help. I just wanted to see the horses for myself. They look to be in decent shape.”

“Decent enough. But we will keep working them every day until we leave here. We want them in tip-top condition for the journey.”

“And you’ll shop for more?” She ran her hand over Bella’s smooth back, wondering what months beneath the yoke would do to this fine mare. Elizabeth hoped they would have enough stock to give Bella and Beau breaks along the way.

“The man we bought feed from is going to show us some stock tomorrow. He told me he has a pair of draft mules that are well broken in and good with horses.”

“You’ve always been a good judge of horses.” She ran a hand through Jamie’s dark curls as he stooped to lay down a harness. “You look tired, son.”

He stood up straight. “I’m not tired.”

She instantly realized her mistake. Jamie was working with the men and probably wanted to be treated like one. She simply nodded. “I’ll go see to supper now.” She chuckled to herself as she returned to the wagons. By the time they reached Oregon, Jamie would probably be a full-grown man. Or at least he would think he was.

“How’s it coming?” she asked as she joined her mother by the fire.

“I got some things unloaded,” Clara told her. “And Ruthie’s been bringing us water.” She pointed to the big kettle on the grill over the fire. “I’ve got some heating.”

“Here’s more water,” Ruth said as she carried the canvas bucket over to them, sloshing some of it over. “Oops.”

“Let me help.” Elizabeth took it from her. “Are we using these for holding water?” She pointed to a storage barrel attached to the side of the wagon.

“Yes. The one with the spigot is for water.”

After she poured the water into the barrel, she glanced around the various boxes and storage bins that were piled around. “What can I do to help?”

“I’ve got beans soaking and some bacon to go with them. I thought we might throw in some tomato preserves, and I’ve chopped an onion. Do you want to make some biscuits?”

“Certainly.” Elizabeth frowned at the folded metal box that was supposed to act as an oven. “I’m curious to find out if that contraption really works. Do we set it directly over the fire, or will that be too hot?”

“That’s my best guess, but I reckon we’ll learn as we go, Lizzie.”

Elizabeth unfolded the portable oven and made room for it by the kettle.

“Well, at least if you burn the biscuits, we’ll have berry jam to put on them,” Ruth said cheerfully.

“And tomorrow we can shop for some fresh foods like butter and eggs,” Clara said. “I know perishables won’t last long on the trail, but it might be nice to start out with them.”

As Elizabeth mixed the biscuits, she called to her mother. “This is like a real trail supper, isn’t it?”

“It sure is. I just hope the fellas won’t be too disappointed.”

Elizabeth laughed. “If they don’t like it, you can tell them to go hunting and fishing.”

“Not much they can hunt or fish around these parts.”

“Want me to get some more water?” Ruth offered.

“Sure,” Elizabeth told her. She appreciated Ruth’s enthusiasm but wondered how long it would take for the newness of camp to wear off.

“Look for more firewood too,” Clara called to her.

“Is supper ready?” Jamie asked as he came over to join them. “I’m starving.”

“We’re working on it,” Elizabeth told him. “You can help by getting some chairs out for us. And that folding table that Matthew made. I think I saw it hanging on the other side of Grandma’s wagon.”

“And when you’re done with that, go see if you can find more firewood,” Clara called from where she was setting a pot on the fire.

“Can you get out some lanterns too?” Elizabeth called to Jamie. “It’ll be getting dark soon.”

Their campsite wasn’t perfect, the beans were a little tough, and the biscuits were slightly scorched, but as they sat around after supper, eating fruit preserves and drinking coffee with the campfire crackling and kerosene lanterns burning cheerily on the table, Elizabeth thought it was rather a homely sight. “Our first night in a real camp,” she said quietly. “It’s rather exciting, isn’t it?”

“It’ll be more exciting when we’re out on the Oregon Trail proper,” Matthew told her.

“More coffee?” Clara offered as she used a cloth to pick up the enamel pot. “There’s at least two cups left.”