Linda Ford (6 page)

He felt heat rush to the tips of his ears. “Let’s make tracks.” He turned his attention to the trail, his thoughts scattering like the dust at Rebel’s hooves. The wind had picked up while they made their purchases, tearing out of the northwest with a hunger that made Crane grab for his coat. Maggie did the same, while he handed the children each a new coat. He’d wanted to ride for three or four hours yet, but after an hour he couldn’t abide the misery on the faces of those under his care and pulled in at the first sheltered spot.

“We could be in for a storm.” He led them into a stand of trees that cut the wind. “Let’s set up camp.” Betsy huddled close to a bush while Maggie hunched against the wind. Crane dropped his gaze to Ted, pleased that the boy didn’t look away.

“Ted, we’ll build a shelter. Maggie and Betsy, you gather up as much wood as you can.” He stared at the cloud-darkened sky. “Looks like we might need a good fire tonight.”

“Come on, Betsy.” The child sniffled as Maggie took her hand.

Crane got his axe and bent thin poplar saplings, cutting them close to the ground, then showed Ted how to weave them into a lean-to. The boy proved a good help despite his shivering.

Crane brushed his hands off. “Think that will do?” he asked Ted.

“Guess so,” the boy murmured.

Crane smiled. “Let’s get the saddles and bedrolls.”

Ted jumped to obey, helping pile the saddles and packs at the edge of the lean-to and shoving the bedrolls into the shelter.

“Come here and get warm,” Crane called to Maggie and Betsy, and they hurried inside the shelter.

Ted helped Crane build a fire and stacked wood close by.

“Good boy,” Crane murmured. “Now get in out of the cold.”

Ted hesitated, looking at the tight quarters, but a cold gust of wind tore through the clearing. The boy crawled in close to the saddles, keeping a space between himself and the others.

Crane had built tree shelters before but always for himself, and although he’d tried to build a larger one this time, only a narrow space was left for him to squirm into. Betsy edged forward to make room for him, resting her elbow against his knee. His left shoulder rubbed against Ted’s slight body. Maggie’s warmth raced along his other side, and as he shifted, his arm brushed her.

He could hardly breathe. Was she likewise feeling a
response to their closeness? Was that why her breathing was so shallow? He wanted to say something, let her know he wanted more from marriage than a physical presence. But he sensed she was as frightened as Ted, and he didn’t know how to tell her she didn’t need to be afraid of him. Although he wanted a proper marriage, he was willing to bide his time until she was ready.

He hunched over. Betsy’s hair tickled his lips as he pulled items from the saddlebags for supper.

After the meal was cleaned up, Maggie asked, “Would it be hard to get the Bible?”

“No problem at all.” He leaned across Ted and lifted it from the pack.

“Would it be all right if I read it again?”

“Yeah, yeah!” Betsy cheered.

“That would be nice,” Crane agreed. He shoved more wood into the flames and settled back.

Maggie read story after story. Occasionally, Crane leaned forward to throw on another chunk of wood, and the flames flared, bathing them all in a warm glow.

She read until her voice cracked.

“Guess we should go to sleep,” Crane murmured.

She carefully rewrapped the Bible and handed it to him. He tucked it back in the pack.

The children had snuggled down behind them. He was certain Betsy was already sleeping. Maggie tugged her bedroll around between Crane and the children and crawled in. He waited until she was settled, then spread his blankets so he slept across the opening. He lay stiff, afraid his movements would disturb the others.

Betsy kicked a little.

The leaves rustled as Ted shuffled as far away as possible.

Beside him, separated only by the blankets, Maggie lay quiet and still.

Crane filled his lungs slowly and held the air in his chest for a moment, then eased it out through his teeth and forced himself to relax. The night noises settled around him, comforting in their familiarity.

Out of the darkness, Maggie said, “I didn’t know I’d forgotten so much.”

Crane waited for her to explain.

“All the things my ma told me, the stories she read from the Bible and how she explained about God.” She took a deep breath, making her body touch Crane’s in several places.

His breathing jerked to a halt.

“I forgot so much. It’s like I shoved it all from my mind.”

He grunted.

“Guess I let my anger get in the road.” She stiffened. “I was so angry when Ted disappeared. And when Pa left me in town, not caring what happened to me. I guess it all made me forget.”

He couldn’t say much to that and lay still as a deep sigh eased through her. A muffled sound came from Ted’s corner, then a barely audible whisper. “Me too.”

Maggie wrapped her arms around the boy. “Oh, Ted, I love you so much.”

Relief washed through Crane. It was a time of healing for brother and sister. Maggie’s words were a faint echo of the things his mother had said to him.

“I let other things get in the road. I don’t want you to forget like I did,” Maggie said. “I feel like I can hear Ma’s voice again.”

❧

They hadn’t been on the road long the next morning when they saw a tilted wagon. A woman sat on the ground, rocking back and forth. A man stood over her, waving his arms. As they drew closer, Crane heard soft cries from the woman and the deeper tones of the man.

“Now, Marta. It be okay. Somet’ing come off, but we be okay. Now you not cry.”

Crane pulled to a stop beside the pair. “Looks like you got problems, Mister.”

“Ya, t’at we got. For sure. Dis here wheel come wrong.”

Crane dismounted. “Bet you could use a hand fixing it.”

“Ya. Dat we can. Dat we can.”

The woman on the ground groaned. Her husband turned to watch her. “My missus. . .I t’ink the baby come soon.” The man turned imploringly to Crane. “Your missus, she help my missus?”

Crane looked at Maggie. She was so young. And not very big. But she had proven to be spunky. “Can you help?” he murmured.

She grabbed his arm and leaned close. “I ain’t never done this before.” Her hand slipped down and buried itself in his grasp.

“You never seen a baby born?”

“I seen Ted born.”

He squeezed her hand. His heart quickened as she clung to him. “Do what you can.”

She looked around. “She needs someplace quiet and clean. A place to lay down.”

“Ya. I get ’ta bed off the wagon.” And the man jumped into the wagon box, handing Crane a roll of blankets.

Maggie called, “Over here.” He took the bedding to her and saw she had found a grassy spot behind some bushes.

“My missus, she have this ready too.” The worried man held a satchel toward Maggie. “It have ’ta clean cloths, scissors, and a blanket for the baby.”

Maggie returned to the laboring woman. “Can you walk that far?”

“Ya.” Marta grunted to her feet and waddled to the spot. Maggie disappeared with her.

Eyes big, Betsy and Ted stared after them, Betsy plucking at the hem of her dress. Ted’s arms hung stiff and straight at his side.

“Come on, you two,” Crane called. “I need some help.” He handed the reins to Ted. “Hold the horses while I have a look.” He crawled under the wagon. The axle was cracked. He eased out and spoke to the man. “You got a spare axle, Mr.—? Sorry, I don’t know your name.”

“I ban Mr. Swedburg.” He held out his hand. Crane introduced his group.

“I not got spare axle.”

“Then we’ll have to patch the old one. You’ll have to go back to town and get it done proper.”

“Ya.”

“Now let’s see if we can get the wheel back on.”

But when Crane put his back to the wagon, it would not budge. He checked inside and saw a stove, a trunk, and several boxes piled in the corner. “We’ll need to move some of this stuff.”

Swedburg disappeared in the back of the wagon and returned with a basket. “We better move Mamma and her babies first. Maybe the little girl like to play with dem.”

The basket held a purring cat with four half-grown nursing kittens. “Betsy, you want to look after this bunch while we fix the wagon?” Crane placed the basket on the grass out of harm’s way, grinning as Betsy bent over to pet the kittens.

He and Ted helped the man rearrange the contents of the wagon, distributing the heavy objects away from the broken wheel. “Be careful not to put all your big things over one wheel,” Crane told Swedburg.

“I not t’ink very good. I just t’ink about getting free land. I want to get dere before baby born.” He paused and listened to his wife’s moans. “I t’ink it be too late now.”

“Now there’ll be another reason to get there.”

Crane showed him how to grease the wheel and reinforce the axle. “Now there are three of you. You’re a family.” Even as he had gone from being alone to a family of four. The thought made him feel warm inside. And at the same time, a little apprehensive. It was an awesome responsibility for one who had spent his life alone.

“Ya. We start new life.” The man smiled at Crane. “You too, ya?”

Stepping back from the repair job, Crane nodded and wiped his hands on a rag. “It should get you back to town.”

“I t’ank you.”

Whatever reply Crane had thought to make was drowned by a scream that ripped through his brain. Swedburg’s face blanched. For a moment Crane thought the man would faint; then the color seeped back into his face.

“Da little one not want to come, maybe.”

Crane pushed his hat back. “I’m sure everything’s all right.”

Six

The children each held a kitten, but Crane could sense their fear as they turned to him.

“I’m sure everything is fine,” he said again, ignoring the shiver racing up his spine. He turned to Swedburg. “Let’s get the wagon repacked.”

But the man let Crane do most of the work of putting crates along the wall.

“Mr. Swedburg,” Maggie called, and the man rubbed his hands on his pants and looked toward the bushes, then back at Crane. “You have a son!” Maggie’s voice sang out as she stepped into sight, a small, blanketed bundle in her arms.

The baby wailed as Maggie placed him in his father’s arms. “Congratulations.”

“Marta?”

“She’s fine. Resting for a few minutes.”

Crane dropped his hand to her shoulder and squeezed. “Good job,” he murmured. Feeling her trembling, he pulled her close. She almost collapsed against him.

After a moment she straightened. “I’d best go take care of Marta.” And she slipped away, leaving an empty coldness at Crane’s side.

They stayed long enough to get Marta settled in the wagon with the infant at her side.

“Now we must put the cat back.”

But Swedburg looked from the basket to the two children. “Ve have too many cats. You take one, ya? Let the children choose.”

Two pairs of begging eyes turned to Crane.

“A cat is good when you build new house. Keep the mices out. Ya?”

“Please, Crane. Please,” Betsy begged. “We’ll take good care of it, won’t we, Ted?” She looked to Ted for confirmation.

Ted nodded.

But it was not Betsy’s eager pleading that convinced Crane; it was the resigned look in the boy’s eyes that said he expected to be denied.

“You two will have to agree which one you want.”

Betsy whooped her delight, but Crane’s reward was Ted’s wide grin before he turned back to the cats.

Betsy lined them up, petting each. “I like them all.”

“We can only take one,” Crane warned.

“I know,” she whispered.

Maggie joined the children. “They’re adorable. How will you decide which one to take?”

“I can’t,” Betsy wailed, turning to Ted. “You choose.”

Ted had been sitting back, watching, and now he nodded and began to draw little circles on the knee of his pants.

The others watched quietly.

“What we want is a kitty that is alert. One that’s smart enough to know what’s going on,” Ted said.

Crane narrowed his eyes and studied the boy. It was difficult to see this lad as the same one who had tormented Betsy not much more than a day ago. But he’d sensed a difference in the boy all morning. The stiffness was gone. And the guarded fear. Crane chewed his bottom lip. Seems a door had been broken down last night. Whether it was the memories sparked by Maggie reading the Bible or her talk about their ma, he didn’t know, and it didn’t matter. He only hoped the boy could leave the past behind and get on with the future.

A gray-striped kitten detached itself from the others, tail lifted like a flag, and stalked toward the circling finger. It sprang to Ted’s knee, grasping the finger in its paws. Ted laughed, tickling the kitten’s tummy. He played with the animal a minute, then cradled him to his face. The kitten licked Ted’s cheek. Crane could hear the cat purring even where he stood.

“That the one, Ted?” Maggie asked.

The boy nodded.

“Here’s a blanket for him.” Swedburg handed a scrap of gray material to Ted. “You wrap him up, and he travel good.”

Ted bundled the kitten up and rose to his feet. He held the bundle out to Betsy. “We’ll take turns carrying him. You go first.”

Amidst a flurry of thank-yous and good-byes, Crane, Maggie, and the children again headed west.

❧

It was two afternoons later as Crane returned from hunting that he heard high-pitched squealing and the sound of splashing water. He angled toward the river and saw Maggie and the children playing in the water. Ted was several feet from Maggie, and he sang a little tune, “Baggy Maggie, you’re so shaggy. Raggy, raggy, raggy.” He laughed.

Maggie swept her cupped hand through the water, spraying an arc of water in Ted’s face.

Crane’s gaze lingered on Maggie as she laughed. She had stripped down to some sort of lace-trimmed undergarment rounded at the neck. Her arms were bare. Gems of water glistened on her skin.

Ted continued his teasing. “Raggy, baggy, shaggy Maggie.”

Betsy joined the chorus, jumping up and down in the water. “Baggy Maggie, baggy Maggie.”

She sprayed them both with water, calling, “Ted, Ted, your head is red. Ted, Ted, go to bed.” She turned to Betsy. “Miss Betsy, you’re so pesky.”

Then she saw Crane watching them, and her words sputtered to a halt. She sank into the water. “We were just playing,” she muttered, her gaze never leaving his face.

He took a step closer, drawn by an indescribable force.

“Come in the water,” Betsy called. “It’s lots of fun.”

Crane shook his head and stepped back. Maggie’s gaze dropped but not before Crane caught a flash in her blue eyes. Was it a wish for their relationship to progress to the next step, or was it simply the reflection of the sunlight off the water?

The children flung water at him, and he ducked away, catching his hat on a branch, tipping it over his forehead. As he pushed it back, his gaze returned to Maggie. He knew what he wanted. He wanted to be man and wife in more than name. He ached to hold her to his chest and kiss her lips, red and moist from playing in the river.

“Come on,” Betsy called again.

Crane considered the idea, half deciding to join them, then thought better of it. He might know what he wanted, but he had no notion what Maggie was feeling. He could afford to be patient. He’d let Maggie find her own way in her own time. They had the rest of their lives.

“
I got us a rabbit. Best get it roasting.” And he walked away, feeling strangely hollow inside. And it wasn’t from hunger.

By the time the others joined him, he sat on the ground tending the rabbit on a spit over the fire and, looking up, caught Maggie watching him, her eyes wide and steady. She held his gaze for a moment before turning her attention to the cup of coffee in her hand.

He reached around Betsy to turn the meat. His own words condemned him.
No love or passion,
he’d told himself. But now he wanted both. He longed for physical closeness, but even more, a place deep inside him ached for her love.

He set Betsy aside and pushed to his feet. “I’m going to see what Ted’s up to.” He stalked into the dusk.

Ted wasn’t difficult to locate. He sat near the river’s edge, holding the kitten, which the children had named Cat, and staring into the distance. Although Ted had changed dramatically in the passing days, Crane noticed he often sought solitude. He crossed to Ted’s side and sat beside him.

The silence settled around them, broken only by Cat’s purring and the murmur of the river. They had no need for words. Sometimes a man had to work things out inside himself. He was sure it was as true for Ted as for him.

“Crane, Ted.” Betsy raced toward them. “Maggie says it’s ready to eat.”

“Better not keep Betsy waiting,” Crane murmured out of the side of his mouth. “She’ll think she’ll starve if we do.”

Ted rewarded him with a flash of a smile. “Bet she’s been pestering Maggie steady, wanting to know if it was ready.”

Crane chuckled as he scrambled to his feet. “Nothing quite so important as food, is there?”

Seemed Ted liked his food almost as well as Betsy, but Crane wasn’t about to point it out.

“Not so far as Betsy knows.” Ted followed Crane toward the fire. “It’s hard being hungry.” His voice was thoughtful. “But there are harder things.”

Crane wanted to ask what the other things were, but Betsy tugged on his hand, chattering like a magpie as she hurried him along.

Later, having eaten their fill, the children played with Cat, tossing a knob of wood back and forth between them, getting her to chase it.

Maggie brought the coffeepot and refilled his cup. She set the pot back and sank to the ground, her face upturned to him. “I’ve been thinking.”

He had been about to take a swallow, but at her words, his throat tightened and he lowered his cup.

“I think I should write Pa and tell him I got Ted. And when we get settled, I’ll let him know where we are.”

The coffee sloshed in Crane’s cup. “You think he might want Ted?” He watched the boy playing with Betsy. He was quiet compared to the girl, but underneath the scars left by the hands of the pig farmer, Ted seemed to be a nice boy. Crane’s fist tightened around his cup, and he admitted he had grown fond of him.

“I wouldn’t think so. He knows I’ll take good care of him. But maybe someday he’ll put his bottle down and remember how much he cared about us. Maybe he’ll wonder how we’re doing.”

Crane’s gaze shifted to Betsy. “Will someone claim Betsy one day?”

“I thought about it some.” Maggie’s face caught the flare of the fire, making her eyes bright. Her moods flashed across her face as quick as the light from the fire. She was open and direct. If she wanted a change in their relationship, she would come right out and say so. But she hadn’t.

She looked at him steadily, and he forced his thoughts back to the conversation. “Ma knew someone who had a foundling child. She said the lady got a lawyer to make some inquiries, and when no one turned up, she adopted the child, legallike. Maybe we should do that too.”

He nodded. “Soon as we find a place to settle, we’ll contact a lawyer.”

She smiled. “It’s funny, don’t you think? All of us have lost our families, and now here we are together. A new family.” Her expression flattened; her voice grew harsh. “A forever family.”

Crane stared into the fire. Was there such a thing as forever?

Taking his silence for disagreement, she shifted her back to him. “I know we can’t see what the future holds.” Her voice was low. “But we can promise ourselves and each other that as far as possible, as much as lies within our power, we won’t change our minds.”

Until death do us part. He’d promised it when they wed; he’d reiterated it since, but she wanted more. Trouble was, he didn’t know what it was or if he could give it. “What is it you want me to say?”

For a moment she didn’t reply. Then she shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just—” She hesitated. “I no longer believe in happy ever after.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “But I want to.” She lifted her head again. “I want to believe we will ride west and find a place we like and build a new home where we will be a true family.” She rubbed her clenched hand against her knee. “But I’m afraid when we get to the end of the trail, it will all fall apart.”

Crane reached out and squeezed her shoulder. For a spell he was silent, then he said, “A man is only as good as his word.” Beneath his hand her shoulder slumped. His answer had disappointed her, but he didn’t know what else to say. Seemed some people could make promises easily. And forget them as easily. He had no wish to be one of those men.

He rose and called the children, handing them each a bed-roll. “Time to settle in.”

Betsy spread her blankets next to his as always. Maggie unrolled her blankets on the other side of the child. Ted waited until the others were finished, then flipped his bedroll next to Maggie’s.

Crane poured himself and Maggie another cup of coffee and handed her the Bible. He lounged on his bed, sipping his coffee, but she hadn’t read long when her voice thickened, and she choked. Tears washed her face, and she dashed them away.

“My ma told me I could be a child of God. He loved me enough to send His Son, Jesus, so I could be forgiven. All I had to do was ask. And I did.” She sniffed. “She said He would always be my father, no matter what happened to me.” Again she sniffed and took a long, shuddering breath. “How could I forget so much?”

The children watched her—Ted’s face pinched, Betsy’s eyes big, and her mouth round.

Maggie jerked around to face them all. “Ted, Betsy, Crane, listen to me. We can each be a child of God. He will always take care of us. It doesn’t matter where we go or who tries to hurt us—God will love us forever.”

Although her fervor made him squirm, Crane couldn’t turn away from the dark gleam in her eyes.

“Ma said we could never for sure count on men, but we can always count on God.”

Crane clenched his mug, certain her comment held a note of censure. But then he could hardly fault her if she held no confidence in men. Her experiences had not given her cause. It would take time for him to prove himself.

She leaned toward the children. “I know bad things happened to you. They happened to us all, but God will help us. From now on I’m going to trust God to take care of me. He promised He would. Forever.”

Crane leaned back, staring at the stars. His own mother had said much the same thing the last visit he’d had.

“I’ve failed to prepare you for the future the way I should,” she’d said. He could still feel her frail hand clasping at his arm. “Remember—no matter how your pa and I have failed, God never changes. He is the same forever.”

He scrubbed a hand over his face. He simply couldn’t believe in forever. Seemed like a man was better off doing his best and letting the future take care of itself.

❧

The next morning, Maggie sang loudly as she worked. Betsy laughed, and soon they both sang.

Ted wore a longing expression. He turned toward Crane, and the moment their eyes met, Crane knew Ted wasn’t ready to trust anyone. Or anything.

“Come on, Ted,” he murmured. “Let’s get the horses ready.”

Ted leapt to do his bidding. He had proven to be a quick learner and worked efficiently at Crane’s side. Neither of them spoke until they were cinching the saddles.

“What’d you think about that stuff?” Ted asked, his words muffled as he reached under his gelding.

“What stuff?” Crane stalled.

“The stuff Maggie says about God.” Ted straightened to look directly at Crane. “About being able to go to heaven and all that.”