Mary's Musket (Clover Creek Caravan Book 2) Read online

  “I didn’t mean for him to hear that,” Mary told Margaret.

  “I know you didn’t. Go after him and explain. I’ll work on your clothes when I’m finished with mine and the girls.”

  Mary shook her head. “It’s probably best if he realizes we’re not going to be married. I don’t want to give him false hope. It’s not going to happen, and that’s all there is to it.” Though a tiny part of her wanted—for the first time in her life—to be someone’s missus.

  “How do you feel about Bob?” Margaret asked, keeping her eyes forward as she kept scrubbing clothes.

  “I’m confused,” Mary admitted. She knew her friend understood a great deal more about men than she did, so she continued. “When he kissed me, it was like lightning struck my body. I was all tingly, and I enjoyed it. But the idea of marrying any man, and becoming no better than an indentured servant…well, that’s not what I want from life. I plan to get a homestead in Oregon and farm on my own.”

  Margaret shook her head. “Why do you think marriage turns you into an indentured servant?” she asked.

  “I’ve watched my parents. Ma does everything Pa tells her to do. She only has any say over the girls, and not the boys. It’s just not right!” Mary wasn’t about to let herself be treated the way her Ma was.

  “That doesn’t sound right to me,” Margaret agreed. “My marriage was much different than what you’re talking about. When I married, I had a baby within a year, and when that baby was born, my husband helped out around the house until I felt well enough to take everything over. We made all decisions together. Yes, there were some chores that I usually did and some that he usually did, but we were both always willing to help the other when their chores became too much. I think that’s how a marriage should be.”

  “Do you miss your husband?” Mary asked.

  “More than I could ever explain. Tom was a good man, and he loved me something fierce. He never denied it either. He just made it clear that the girls and I were the center of his universe. When he died unexpectedly, the land we owned went to his nearest male relative, which was his younger brother. His brother gave me three months to pack up and get off the property. I had no money. I only had my two girls.” She shook her head. “I sold all of our belongings so I could have enough money to buy provisions for the Trail. But when I get to Oregon, no one will take what is mine away from me again.”

  “That’s why I want to go west,” Mary said. “I want my own land, and I want to be able to own it outright.”

  “I see that,” Margaret said. “But if you find a man who’s good to you, like my Tom was good to me, I think you need to marry him and keep him around. No, my marriage didn’t end the way I would have wanted it to. I thought our love was so strong that we’d die of old age in each other’s arms. But that didn’t happen. He was thrown from a horse he was breaking, and he landed headfirst on the ground with a broken neck. I didn’t expect either of us to die for at least another fifty years.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I’m strong, and I’m making it work with my girls, but if I could be back on our farm in Kentucky with Tom, I would be there forever.”

  “That makes sense.” Mary’s heart ached for her friend, but she had no words to offer to make it better.

  “So, think about Bob’s offer. Talk to him. He’s not a monster. He understands that you need to be free to do the things you want to do. I’m sure he wouldn’t stop you from hunting if you asked. He might even let you give him pointers with your musket.”

  Mary laughed. “Of course, he wouldn’t.” There wasn’t a man alive who would admit a woman was better with a musket than he was.

  “Don’t throw the offer of love away, Mary. Please.”

  “I’ll think on it.”

  Margaret finished her laundry soon after and went back to camp to hang her clothes, and then she’d fill a bathtub. She charged five cents for a bath, and she only gave five baths a week. Mary had been a recipient of one of the baths in the other woman’s tub, and she’d been very grateful for the opportunity. Baths in the river were too cold, but there were some things you just couldn’t wash with a basin.

  When Mary returned to camp with the laundry all washed, her mother helped her hang it. “You left camp late last night with a man,” her mother whispered as the two of them worked to hang the clothing together.

  Mary looked at her mother out of the corner of her eye. “Are you going to tell Pa?” Why was she asking? She’d been seen by enough people that her father was going to have the information before noon. Why had she left with Bob? She doubted her mother would tell because she needed help with so many things.

  “No, I’m not going to tell him. I don’t want you getting married yet, because I still need your help around the house. Setting up a new household in Oregon isn’t going to be easy work, and many hands make the work lighter. Don’t go off with Bob again or with anyone else for that matter. I might be able to make an excuse for you this time, but if it becomes a habit, your pa will marry you off before I can convince him otherwise.”

  Mary nodded. “Yes, Ma.” She knew what she’d done had been wrong, but they’d only exchanged one kiss. One kiss may have changed her world, but it wasn’t enough to force a wedding.

  Mary was annoyed to learn that the pastor had gotten the first buffalo from their wagon train. She’d hoped to be the one to do it and get some respect back from her pa after the incident with her brother. She’d have to find another way to do it.

  As she sat in church, fighting to stay awake, her mind was on Bob, who sat a short distance in front of her. She should talk to him, but she didn’t want to. He was a nice man, but she just wasn’t ready for marriage. Especially not for a marriage like her mother had. She wished she knew if Margaret was speaking truth when she talked about her own relationship, but how could she know?

  She didn’t think Margaret would lie to her because she was a good Christian woman, but you never could tell who was deceiving you. Mary had learned that well before a girl should ever have to be suspicious of others. Trusting the people around you could easily lead to heartbreak and betrayal.

  And that’s when she remembered that she’d told Bob her big secret the night before. She had to talk to him before he went to her father. There was no way Pa could know that she was planning to get herself a homestead.

  Two

  April 10th 1852

  It’s getting hard to keep track of the days now that we’re on the trail. I find that Mondays feel the same as Fridays. But the day that does feel different is Sunday. Sunday is a day to rest the animals, to get the clothes washed, to hunt, and to rest our poor aching feet. Sometimes I pretend my feet don’t hurt as much as other people’s, but if you’re walking twenty miles a day, your feet are going to hurt. There’s no way around it.

  Too many people know about my sneaking away from camp with Bob last night. I thought only Hannah had seen us, but both Margaret and Ma have questioned me about it. Who knows how many other people know? And now I need to talk to Bob. I never should have revealed my secret to him, but he could tell Pa that I plan to get my own homestead, and I know that would end life as I know it.

  Maybe I sound melodramatic when I say that, but it’s true. I must find Bob and ensure he won’t tell Pa.

  After church, Mary wanted nothing more than a nap, but she knew she had to find Bob. As soon as church was over, Mr. Henderson came to the gathering. Mary had wondered why his family wasn’t there, but it seemed Mrs. Henderson had fallen ill with cholera around noon, and she was already dead.

  Everyone was devastated at the news, and Mary went to Hannah to talk to her about what could be done. While the men were digging the grave, the two friends talked about who would walk with Mrs. Henderson’s three young children during the days while their father drove the wagon. Hannah said she would make supper for the other family, and that freed Mary up to try to find Bob.

  When Mary finally spotted the man in question, he was
standing at the graveside with Jedediah Scott, Hannah’s husband, and the pastor on the wagon train. They were fortunate to have a pastor for funerals, and maybe there would be a wedding or two along the way. Mr. Scott gave a fine service for Mrs. Henderson, and Mary waited until the service was over, and then she wove between people to get to Bob’s side as quickly as she could.

  “I need to talk to you,” she whispered as people still moved around them.

  “To tell me you won’t marry me? I think I’ve heard that somewhere before. Oh, last night and again by the river this morning. That’s where I’ve heard it.”

  Mary closed her eyes for a moment, wishing she could run, but she had to make it through this discussion. “No, not that. People saw us leaving camp last night. Two people have now mentioned it to me. I worry that you’ll talk to Pa and tell him that I want to have my own homestead when we reach Oregon.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “Would that be such a terrible thing?” He couldn’t understand why this was so important to her.

  “Yes!” she cried out. “You don’t understand my father. He would insist that I marry before we even get to Oregon to keep me from doing it. You know how I feel.”

  “Oh yes. You made your feelings very clear.”

  “Please, Bob. Don’t talk to my father about me.”

  Bob turned and walked away from her, heading out of camp. He had no desire to talk to her for another moment about the subject. He’d offered her love, marriage, and a full life. She’d refused. Why would he ever want to even look at her again?

  That afternoon, while he was sitting outside of camp, an odd young woman who was part of their wagon train, whose name he couldn’t remember, sat on the ground before him. “Why are you sad?” He judged the girl to be around fifteen or sixteen, and she had a dreamy quality about her, as if she wasn’t quite completely present.

  Bob looked at the girl, not knowing how to explain things to her. She had a peppermint stick growing out of her cleavage, and he didn’t know how to talk to her. She was…odd. “I was spurned by the woman I love.”

  The girl nodded as if she understood. “Miss Mitchell is a beautiful woman. I hope she changes her mind, because you would make beautiful babies with your canoodling.” With that the girl stood up and walked away as if she’d come to him just to tell him that. He had no idea who she belonged to, but he’d see her occasionally doing something around the camp. Why last night, he’d spotted her in the middle of the area where people were dancing, her hands raised, spinning in circles. Most girls her age were afraid to dance alone, but not her.

  What did a young woman her age know of canoodling? He couldn’t believe she’d said that to him that way. What was wrong with the girl?

  Bob sat for a while longer before heading back to camp. It seemed everyone in the entire wagon train was in mourning that day. Even the preacher’s wife, who seemed so calm to him at all times, was crying her heart out.

  He hadn’t expected a death so soon in their journey, but they had certainly seen human skeletons and skulls along the way. The day before, they’d even seen a rocking chair just sitting beside the trail as if someone had simply walked away for a minute and would be back soon with a cup of coffee.

  He approached the wagon he’d been driving for the journey, spotting Mr. and Mrs. Mitchell. He wanted badly to talk to Mr. Mitchell about his daughter. If Mary was right about her father forcing her to marry if he found out she was planning to get her own homestead, then maybe he could use the information to his advantage.

  He’d wait though. The camp was in mourning, and he didn’t have to be in a hurry. No, he had plenty of time to decide what he wanted to do, if anything. He would feel badly for betraying Mary, but if it ended with her as his wife, someone who would truly work beside him for the rest of his days, then it was worth it.

  He felt Mary’s eyes on him wherever he walked that day, and when he went to get his supper from her mother, he felt as if Mary was staring holes into his back. He didn’t pay her any attention though, and instead went to eat with Jamie Prewitt, the closest friend he’d made so far on the trail. The two men had even discussed getting adjoining homesteads, so they could continue their friendship once they reached Oregon.

  “I saw you go off with Miss Mitchell last night. You finally got up the courage to tell her how you feel?” Jamie asked.

  Bob shook his head. “I got up the guts to ask her to marry me. She told me she will never be a man’s slave. She plans to get her own homestead when she reaches Oregon, and she wants me to keep the secret from her father.” He took a bite of his food and while he chewed, he waved his fork in the air. “Then today she begged me not to tell her father that she was planning to get her own homestead, because he would force her to marry before she reached Oregon. Apparently, he thinks her ways are too manly, and she needs to settle down.”

  Jamie laughed. “So, you tell her father what she said, and then you tell him that you’re willing to take on the burden of his daughter. Preacher marries the two of you to each other next weekend, and you have a wife.”

  “I don’t want her to hate me. I want her to love me.” Bob knew he sounded like a lovesick fool, but that’s what he was. He was in love with Mary Mitchell, and she thought he wanted her to be his slave.

  “I think you’re being awfully silly about that. I sometimes wonder how many will be dead before we reach Oregon anyway. Mrs. Henderson seemed perfectly healthy this morning, and she’s already in the ground. How does it happen so fast?”

  “I don’t know. I know her husband and children are mourning her though. Heck, the whole camp seems to be mourning her, even the ones who didn’t know her. She’s the first of our train to die.”

  Jamie shook his head. “Well, I guess we all need to listen to doc and make sure to drink coffee. He thinks there’s something in the coffee beans that keeps people from getting cholera. If that’s true, I’m drinking coffee and not water from now on.”

  “You haven’t been?” Bob asked, looking at his friend as if he lost his mind.

  “No, of course not. I’m not a fan of coffee.”

  “I don’t care if you’re a fan or not. You’re healthy still, and it’s time to start drinking coffee.” Bob shook his head. “Doc has been talking about this since we left Independence.” If it was the choice between life and death, you drank what would keep you alive, and nothing else.

  “Like I listen to doc. That man seems to think he knows everything about everything, whether it has to do with medicine or not.” Jamie shrugged. “I’m not really a fan of the man.”

  “You sure do make pretty music together,” Bob said in a girly voice, and he laughed when Jamie punched him in the arm. “I don’t know what I’m going to do about Mary, but whatever it is, I’m not doing it today. I need to think on it first.”

  Jamie shrugged. “That’s fine with me.”

  After they’d finished eating, Bob took his dishes to Mary to wash, while Jamie took his to Mrs. Bolling. Mrs. Bolling had started cooking for anyone who would bring her meat to serve her and her kids. It worked out well for the unmarried men on the train, of which Jamie was one.

  The camp was quieter than usual that night, as everyone was respectful to the Hendersons, who had just lost a wife and mother. Bob made sure not to even walk close to their tent, worried he’d hear the children weeping and wailing.

  When he pulled out his bedroll and settled for the night, he crossed his hands under his head and stared up at the stars. What was he going to do about Mary? The woman haunted his dreams at night, and his daydreams as well. She was perfect for him, but he didn’t want to push her too hard. Telling her father what she’d told him was not the answer, though if her father found out she’d been sneaking out of camp with him, he was sure a wedding would be forced.

  He’d never been a man who had wanted to force a woman to do anything, but now it seemed that’s what he should do, but he wouldn’t. The decision was made. He couldn’t tell her father, because a shotg
un wedding was not something he wanted in life.

  When Bob saw Mary the following morning, she looked as if she’d been crying. Whatever had happened to her, he was happy to think it wasn’t him. She walked with her friend Mrs. Scott as usual, he noticed, but the two women barely talked. The kids they were in charge of played around them, but Mrs. Scott didn’t open her mouth at all.

  While he was with the other men that afternoon, helping to round up the stray livestock, Mary grabbed his arm and pulled him away from everyone else. “How dare you go to my father and tell him what I told you? Have you lost your mind? He’s told me I have to choose a husband from the men in camp within the next week, and convince one of them to marry me!”

  Bob stared at her for a moment before shaking his head. “I don’t know who talked to your pa, but it wasn’t me. I thought about it, because I do want to marry you, but I decided I didn’t need a forced marriage, so I didn’t talk to him.”

  Mary glared at him. “You told him. No one else knew except Hannah, and she hasn’t spoken to anyone in over twenty-four hours.”

  “Why isn’t Mrs. Scott speaking to anyone?” Bob asked, immediately concerned for the preacher’s wife.

  “No idea. She has been crying on and off all day. She was supposed to help with the Henderson kids today, but instead she let me do all the work. I don’t mind, but it’s not like her. Not at all.”

  “That’s worrisome. I wonder if the preacher has had her see the doc.”

  Mary shrugged. “I don’t know why I’m letting you change the subject, but I’m not letting you off the hook. I’m angry!”

  “Look, Mary, I swear I didn’t do anything. I haven’t talked to your pa since you and I talked yesterday. Maybe you should ask him who told him that you wanted to get your own homestead.” Bob wanted her to choose him for a husband, but he knew she wouldn’t if she couldn’t figure out who’d tattled on her.