The Reluctant Bridegroom (19 page)

They made the trip quickly, and Sky said, “Dave, you go ahead and be sure nobody breaks a leg. I’ll stay with the wagon.”

“Don’t you want to carve your name in stone, Sky?” Rita smiled. “It’s kind of a permanent thing.”

“Guess I’ll just sleep, Rita. Here, you’ll need a knife.” He gave her his sheath knife, then watched sleepily as the women began to ascend the rock. It was at least 500 feet high, surrounded at its base by great mounds of debris. The slim stone shaft was something like a chimney, he thought as the figures grew smaller.

He crawled under the wagon and was instantly asleep. He had the knack of relaxing quickly and taking rest in chunks whenever he could get it. He slept lightly, aware of the call of a hawk and the scuffling of something in the shale around the bend from the wagon. But these were normal sounds, so he did not rouse himself.

Then he sat up—a voice was calling him! He came out from under the wagon to see Rita standing beside a pile of talus. She waved and called something he couldn’t understand. He ran to where she stood, calling out, “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, I twisted my ankle, Sky,” she said.

He knelt to touch the foot she held off the ground, and
she winced. “Can you move it back and forth, Rita? Now the other way?” He gently manipulated the ankle, then got up, saying, “Not broken. Let me help you to the wagon.”

She held to him heavily and cried out as her foot touched the ground. “It hurts, Sky!”

“Well . . .” He looked down to the wagon. “Can’t drive the wagon up here. I’ll have to carry you.”

He scooped her up easily and began walking carefully down the treacherous slope. She put her arm around his neck as he moved downward, holding her tightly. Several times he had to go to his right or left to find safe footing.

“Tough luck,” he said. “You’ll have to ride in the wagon for a day or two.”

“You’re always having to pull my potatoes out of the fire, aren’t you, Sky?”

“Glad to oblige.” Sky reached the foot of the rock, and began to walk across the level ground, but he was uncomfortably aware of her soft body pressed against his chest, and her face, which was very close to his own. There was no way to hold her loosely, but neither could he ignore the hunger she stirred in him.

He reached the wagon and leaned over to set her feet on the ground, but when he released her, she put her other arm around his neck with a deliberate movement and pulled his head down. Her lips were soft under his, and suddenly he put both arms around her and pulled her closer. She caressed the back of his neck, running her hand through his hair. When he lifted his lips from hers, she murmured huskily, “Oh—sweet!” and pulled his head down again. His blood was a riot in his veins, and nothing seemed real except Rita’s lips.

He lifted his head and said thickly, “Rita—this doesn’t mean anything.”

“It means what it is, Sky,” she whispered. “I want you and that’s all that counts. Don’t you want me?”

He removed her hands from around his neck and stood back. “Sure I do—but there’s more to it than that.”

“You’ve been listening to Lot Penny’s preaching, Sky.” She reached up to touch his cheek. “Preachers talk like that—and all the so-called ‘good women’ pretend they don’t want a man, but we’re all the same. I’m just different because I admit it.” She leaned forward and said, “We’re here for such a little while—got to grab whatever pleasure there is because it’s all over so soon!”

Far off a coyote yelped. She pulled his head down again, and kissed him fiercely, then whispered, “Don’t you love me, Sky?”

“Rita, wanting isn’t loving,” he said almost angrily, releasing her. “I had a wife once, and she said about the same thing you’ve just uttered—but she said it to other men. There’s got to be more to love than just wanting, Rita!”

“There isn’t, Sky!” she insisted. “Some men are the romantics, but when you peel down past the poetry and the flowers and the pretty speeches, it’s just a man wanting a woman—and a woman wanting him back, like I want you. And you want me, too! Don’t you think I know?”

“It’s not like taking a drink of water when you’re thirsty,” Sky said bluntly. “If that’s all love is, then we’d be better off without it!”

She looked at him with something like compassion in her face. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Sky. That’s all love is, just wanting. Nothing else.” Then her eyes lost their light and she shrugged. “But you’ll never believe that. You’ll let the memory of that one woman poison you for the rest of your life. It’s fool’s gold, Sky—and when you get to be an old man, you’ll think of times like this. You’ll curse and say, ‘I missed it all!’ ”

His face was carved in sharp planes, and at that moment he looked much like his Indian ancestors. Staring at her, he said quietly, “Maybe that’s so, Rita—but at least I’ll know I tried.”

Disgusted, she grabbed the wagon wheel and lowered herself to the ground. Sky took a canteen out of the wagon and handed it to her, then walked away without looking back. It
was two hours later before the others came back, gasping for breath. Karen took one look at Rita’s face, then said, “Let me help you into the wagon.” She saw that Sky was already mounted, and it was Dave who picked Rita up and deposited her in the back of the wagon. She held him tightly and said, “Why, thank you, Dave.” Keeping her arm around his neck for just one extra second, her lips close to his ear, she whispered, “Sorry to be such a bother.”

He flushed and said, “Why, it’s no trouble, Rita.” Then he turned and both Karen and Edith saw that the incident had affected him. Later on when they had gotten back to the train, Edith said, “There’s gonna be trouble, Karen. Rita made her try for Winslow, I think. Now she’ll have to have some man or lose face.”

“Not Dave, I hope,” Karen responded instantly, and Edith looked at her with surprise. Karen hastily explained. “He and Sky are such good friends—I’d hate to see Rita ruin that for them.”

Edith studied her for a moment. “Karen,” she murmured gently, “don’t get too fond of Dave.”

“Why not?”

“Because you know as well as I what an abnormal situation we’re in. Out here, any man would go with any woman.”

“Dave hasn’t said a word to me, Edith.”

“But you think of him, don’t you?”

The question stirred Karen’s face, and she looked off into the distance silently. “I don’t know, Edith,” she answered after a minute. “He’s a good man, and I’ve had one good man. Maybe I shouldn’t even think such things—be more like you. You never have problems with things like this.”

Karen did not catch the flash of bitterness that touched Edith’s gray eyes. “No, I don’t have problems like that, Karen. But don’t let Rita get Dave alone. It would mean that he and Sky would fight. And we can’t afford to do without either of them.”

The train pulled out at dawn; Lake was able to drive now,
so Sky did not return as early as before. Rebekah saw that he was quieter, and she mentioned it to Edith, who said, “He’s worried about Indians, I suppose.”

They reached Fort Laramie on June eighth, but stayed only long enough to trade some worn-out oxen and buy a few supplies. Rebekah had been traveling in the wagon most of the time now. Her feet were swollen and she had felt ill for the past week. She was sitting in a chair in the general store watching some of the other women looking at the meager stores when Sky appeared and said, “Come along.”

She rose heavily and walked outside with him. “Where are we going?”

“I want the army doc to have a look at you.”

An hour later Dr. Schwartz, a short, thin man with a full set of sideburns, came out. “She’s getting dressed.”

“How is she?”

Schwartz stared at him. “She’s not your wife, you say?”

“No, she—lost her husband.”

“I see.” He sat down and stared out the window so long that Sky thought he’d forgotten him. “I wouldn’t take her if I were you.”

“But we can’t leave her here! She doesn’t know a soul, Dr. Schwartz!”

“I know that—but she’s likely to have complications when the baby comes.” The doctor pulled a bottle of whiskey from the desk, took a huge swig, then shoved it toward Sky, who shook his head. “I’m just an army doctor, Winslow. Don’t see many women. Haven’t delivered five babies in as many years. I may be wrong about this. I hope so.”

He stood up as Rebekah came out and said, “Thank you, Dr. Schwartz.”

Sky said, “The doctor says you might be better off to stay here until the baby comes, Rebekah.”

“But the train can’t wait!”

“I—I could come back for you next year.”

She smiled and put her hand on his arm, her face glowing
with gratitude. “Oh no, I couldn’t ask you to do that! I’ll be all right.” She gave a little laugh. “Women were having babies before there were doctors around to help. The Lord won’t fail me. Thank you again, Doctor.”

She turned and left the room, and with a helpless look at Schwartz, Winslow followed her. They walked in silence for a time; then she said, “You’re not to worry about me, Sky. You have too many other things to think of.”

“Can’t help it.”

“Yes, you can. I found that out not too long ago. A burden gets so big you just fall under it; but just before you do, the Lord gives you peace and you know it’s going to be all right somehow.”

The stars filled the heavens, and the path to the train was plainly illuminated. Sky stopped beside the wagon. “I wish you’d stay here, Rebekah. What would become of Timmy if you—if something happened to you?”

“Why, God would take care of him, Sky. He’s the father of the fatherless, didn’t you know?”

Sky stood there, and lifted his head. The stars glittered like tiny points of fire overhead, crowding each other in the velvet field. He said, “Look at that, Rebekah. Never see a sky like that without feeling pretty small. We’re not much, are we, compared with all that?”

“Oh, I think so,” she responded quietly. “Just one of us means more to God than all of those.”

“Why? We’re not as big.”

“No, but they can’t love Him—and that’s what God meant when He made us, Sky.”

Sky studied the stars again and murmured quietly, “My stepmother, she always said that.” His eyes never left the sky as he told her, “You want to hear why I agreed to let you come on this crazy trip, Rebekah? I was all set to leave you behind, but somehow you reminded me of her.”

“You love her very much, don’t you, Sky?”

He could not bring himself to use those words, not even
about Missy. “She was good to me,” he said vaguely. “All right, you’ll go, but I’m more worried about you than about Indians. You’ve got faith—but all the same, it seems to me that most of the good things in this life get busted.”

He turned and walked away, and she went to sleep that night thinking of his stepmother—and feeling pleased that he’d said that she was one of the “good things.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

AMBUSH AT THE SOUTH PASS

The land slanted upward from Laramie, and some discouraged soul had left a crudely painted sign just outside the fort beside the trail: “You are now 640 miles from Independence, and not even one-third of the way to Oregon.”

Dave read the sign aloud, then turned to Karen, who was riding beside him. “We’ve used up more than a third of our supplies—to say nothing of our patience. Wonder what we’ll do farther on?”

She smiled at him. “We’ll make it, Dave.” It was the first time she’d ridden beside him in the seat, but Sky had asked Dave to go scouting with him farther ahead, and she’d volunteered to drive Dave’s wagon while he was gone. As they rode along, waiting for Sky to appear, Karen watched the horizon. Dave stole one glance at her, then another, admiring the golden tan that she had gained over the summer. Her blond hair had become darkened with sun streaks, but her cheeks were rosy. She was a strongly built woman, full-figured and glowing with health.

Suddenly she turned, caught him watching her, and smiled. “You’ve thought about me sometimes, haven’t you, Dave?”

“Well . . .” Her candor caught him off guard, and he could not frame an answer. He was never that much of a talker. Finally, he turned to look at her. “Yes, I guess I have, Karen.”

“I’m not surprised. All of us must seem like a bunch of freaks—or worse, loose women out to grab a man with whatever it takes.”

“I never thought of you like that.”

“I believe you—but if you had, it would be natural. You know I was married once?”

“I heard that.”

“My husband was a very good man. I had two children, too.” Stealing a glance at her, he saw that her face was fixed as she stared out over the plain. “I still think of them all the time.”

“That’s tough.” His words sounded weak and he hastened to add, “But you’re a young woman; you’ll have other children.”

“I hope so, Dave.” The intensity of her voice reflected the look in her eyes, and she gave her head a quick shake and asked casually, “You’ve never married?” Then she laughed, a rich, free sound on the morning air, and put her hand on his arm. “Oh, Dave, that sounded like a proposal! I’m so sorry.”

He reddened and then laughed himself. “Better be careful, Karen. You might get snatched up before you get to all those rich merchants in Oregon City who can set you up in a fine house and give you everything. Be too bad if you crossed the whole country just to marry a poor ox driver!”

She did not smile, and her hand on his arm tightened just one instant. “Money and houses, they are not important.”

He turned to face her and asked, “Then what is important to you, Karen?”

“Kindness. Sharing life. Caring for someone more than you care for yourself. Having children together. Growing old together.”

He thought about that, then nodded. “Never heard it put like that. Sounds mighty good.”

They were silent awhile, each lost in thought. Karen shook her head. “I’m worried about Rebekah. She is not doing well.”

Dave looked back to where Tom Lake was driving his wagon. “Wish she’d had that baby in Laramie,” he commented. “Sky’s worried, too. Guess we all are.” His tough
face broke into a gentle smile. “Reckon we’re her family, Karen. Got to take care of our own, don’t we?”

“What a nice thing to say, Dave!”

He flushed at her praise, then saw Sky riding up on his horse. Handing her the lines, Dave said, “I’ll see you this afternoon.” He hesitated, then said, “It’s—it’s been nice talking to you, Karen. Roughneck like me doesn’t often get a chance to talk to girls like you. Maybe we can talk some more?” he added as he got on his horse.