Authors: Sylvia McDaniel
“My mother’s organ!” she cried.
He glanced behind her. “Keep moving. Don’t stop. Don’t look back.”
“But the organ is going to fall out.”
“Keep moving!”
“But—”
The wagon gave a sudden lurch, as if belching. Rachel jerked her head around.
The organ crashed to the hard dirt falling end over end as the thud of splintering wood wrenched her heart. The pipes reverberated with a painful clang that seemed to echo in the still mountain air. The organ splintered, shredding into a thousand pieces, as it came to rest against a rock.
As the dust settled, Rachel could see that nothing remained but kindling. The ground was littered with splintered wood and ivory. Her heart felt as shattered as the once beautiful organ. Rivulets of tears ran down her face while the oxen suddenly picked up speed, plodding upward.
Reaching the top of the mountain, Rachel pulled the wagon to a halt. She put her face in her hands and sobbed. Why had this journey cost her everything? Her father, his Bibles, and now her dearest possession, her mother’s organ. A few doilies and linens were the only other things left of her mother.
Wade rode up and jumped off his horse. “What in the hell were you thinking about, stopping this wagon halfway up that mountain? Were you trying to kill yourself?”
Rachel raised tear-dampened lashes. She wanted to slap him, to inflict some of the pain she was feeling onto his cold heartlessness. She wanted to make him hurt like she was hurting. Instead, she crawled down from the wagon and stood before him.
“My mother’s last remaining possession, was about to fall out of the wagon,” she replied, her voice tightly controlled.
“Did you think saving it was worth risking your life?”
“Of course. Why else would I have stopped.”
“You damn pigheaded fool. That could be you down there right now, instead of that blasted organ.”
“You’ll never understand how I feel. What if it had been your mother’s, Wade?”
“My mother never would have owned the instrument. And even if she had, she would have been smarter, than to have risked bringing the thing along.”
Rachel clinched her fists, not caring who heard her. “I suggest you get back to my wagon Wade and do what you were hired to do. I’m going to ride with Mary.”
* * *
It was early evening, before Wade had the courage to come into camp. It wasn’t his fault the organ had fallen from the wagon, but she obviously blamed him for the loss, since he’d refused to let her stop the wagon and be dragged to her death.
He shook his head. The need to see her, check on her one more time to make sure she wasn’t hurt, was overwhelming. But he dreaded facing her wrath once again. He’d already forgiven her remark about his job this afternoon. She was grieving and had wanted to hurt him.
But his heart still hadn’t recovered from seeing the wagon and her perched perilously on that hill. He’d been so afraid, and yet by some miracle, she’d kept the wagon from rolling back down that mountain.
The depth of his fear for her had stunned him. What if something happened to her? What if she’d been killed? The situation brought back painful memories and the gravity of his feelings shocked him.
He refused to fall in love with Rachel. He refused to care for her. They could never be together, but that determination hadn’t helped him today when he’d watched her on that slope. Nothing had stopped the panic that gripped him when the oxen stumbled backward.
Wade tried to shake off the feelings. She was safe, the children were safe, and yet he felt as if a war raged inside him. He’d tried to detach himself from Rachel, but part of him was somehow connected to her heart and refused to let go. And that scared him, for it left him vulnerable to a hurt bigger than these mountains.
He stalked into camp, his emotions raw, his need to see Rachel intense. She was bent over the fire, stirring something in a large pot. The fire reflected the soft planes of her face. She looked tired and withdrawn. The day had been tough on her.
When he spoke, she jumped with fright. “Can I help?”
“No, thank you,” she replied, her voice cold as she continued to stir the pot without sparing him a glance.
Frostbite would have been warmer than the reception he received. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.”
“Do you want me to call the children for supper?”
“No.”
Wade sighed. He was getting nowhere. He watched as she started to lift the pot from the fire.
“Let me,” he volunteered.
“No!”
He tried to warn her. “Rachel—”
The pot started to slip from the hand that held it with a cloth. She automatically reached out and grabbed it with her free hand before Wade could stop her. She screamed, and the pan dropped with a clank to the ground, spilling the hot stew.
Rachel cried out, cradling the burned hand to her chest.
“Let me see,” Wade said as he reached for it.
At first, she resisted, her arm and hand stiff. But Wade refused to be put off and pulled until her hand was in front of him. The burn appeared red and angry. He led her over, to the water barrel and filled a bowl full of cool water. Gently, he placed her hand in the water, leaving her to soak it while he found the box of emergency supplies Rachel kept stored away.
When he came back, he took her hand and carefully patted it dry. Her eyes scorched him as he dipped his fingers into the salve and, with tender strokes, rubbed the medicine onto her wound.
He glanced up to see tears pooled in her fawn-colored eyes.
“Does it hurt bad?”
She sniffed. “No.”
“Then why are you crying?”
Her bottom lip trembled as the tears flowed in earnest down her cheeks.
Wade took a clean cloth and wrapped it around her hand, covering the burns. Tying the ends of the bandage, he pulled her onto his lap and kissed away her tears.
His gentleness turned her tears into sobs, and Wade held her in his arms until her weeping changed to little hiccupping sounds.
When the storm subsided, he said, “I’m sorry about your mother’s organ. I didn’t want it to end up at the bottom of a mountain, smashed to pieces.” He paused, his voice intense as he held her closer. “But I was so afraid when I saw you stopped on the side of that hill. I was afraid you would end up where the organ eventually landed.”
Rachel sniffled. “You’ve always wanted to get rid of the organ.”
“But not this way.”
“It’s just…it was my mother’s most cherished possession.”
“I know how much it meant to you, and I’m sorry to see it’s gone. But hasn’t this trip taught you that possessions are not important? What’s important are the memories you have here.” He pointed to her head. “And the feelings you have here.” He pointed to her heart.
“I know you’re right, but I didn’t want to give up the organ. Sometimes it seems I’ve lost everything precious to me on this trip. Almost as if God is testing me?”
Wade hugged her tighter to him. If anyone was being tested, it was him. So far, he’d had the strength of a saint, but many more days like today, he’d fail this test.
“Actually, we’ve been pretty lucky. We’re all healthy.” He paused, gazing into her hazel eyes. “I know that doesn’t make the loss of your father any smaller, or even the loss of the organ any easier, but every day we’re getting closer.”
And closer meant one less day to spend with Rachel. The thought shook Wade. Did he really want to reach Oregon and give her up?
Chapter Twelve
D
ear Diary,
The last two weeks have seemed longer than the entire trip. For four nights we traveled through the desert, bypassing Fort Bridger, to save almost a week’s worth of travel time. When we reached the Bear River, we stopped to rest for a day before continuing to Soda Springs.
Wade continues to haunt my dreams at night. He has all but discontinued sleeping in the wagon with me. In some ways, I’m grateful, yet I miss him. He comes to camp for his meals and even spends time with the children around the fire.
I know he watches me, for I have caught him staring, with a strange look in his eyes that leaves me flushed. I must not fall in love with this man.
The stars were shining bright when the smell of cooking drew Wade into camp.
At The sound of his boots against the packed earth, she glanced up from dishing plates of stew for the children. Glistening eyes, the color of sweet honey, welcomed him, sending his pulse racing, making his breathing uneven. How could she look so beautiful after a long dusty day on the trail?
Rachel smiled a warm greeting. “Are you hungry?”
“Yes,” he said, barely able to get the words out.
“Join us,” she said, dishing him up a plate.
He knew he shouldn’t spend time with her, but the longing to sit beside her was more than he could endure. Soft curls escaped her chignon, falling with abandon around her face. Streaks of amber glistened in her tresses, reflecting the firelight. He clenched his fists to keep from stroking the tempting curls.
She handed him a plate and went back to the task of feeding Daniel, who didn’t seem to appreciate the stew as much as the other children.
“There’s corn bread on the back of the wagon. You can sit here with me and Daniel, if you don’t mind a fussy little boy.
“So how many miles did we make today?” Rachel asked, spooning a bite into Daniel’s mouth.
“Maybe twelve, if we were lucky.” Wade blew on the hot liquid, trying to cool it enough to taste. “We’ll make it across the mountains before the first big snow. Still we shouldn’t tarry. The sooner we get there, the sooner…”
Wade stopped unable to finish. The sooner they reached Oregon, the sooner he would be leaving Rachel and the children.
Rachel completed his sentence in a broken whisper: “The sooner you’ll be rid of us.”
Wade glanced up. Rachel’s face was drawn tighter than a virgin’s on her wedding night. “That’s not what I was going to say.”
She shoved a spoonful of stew between Daniel’s lips. “It doesn’t really matter, does it?”
“Rachel, I never meant—”
The sound of sputtering interrupted Wade as the baby blew stew from his mouth, spewing the stuff across the front of Rachel’s dress.
“Daniel Hawthorne Cooke!” Rachel exclaimed, suddenly sounding as tired as the child, “That’s naughty. You’re going to bed.”
“Do you need some help?” Wade didn’t want her to leave him until they finished this conversation.
“No,” she replied, her voice stilted. “I’ll be back.” With Daniel on her hip, she disappeared into the tent.
Several minutes later, Rachel returned and herded the children off to bed with a determination he’d never seen before. Normally, she let them take their time cleaning up. But tonight she hurried them, telling Grace no at least a half-dozen times when the little girl said she wanted to stay up. The woman was up something, and he could almost guess what had caused the tension he’d learned to recognize around the corners of her mouth. He’d bet his last dollar that it had something to do with Tommy’s announcement that afternoon.
With everyone finally settled, she hurried back to the campfire. Sitting across from him, she shifted uncomfortably. A frown fixed itself firmly between her eyes.
“Did Tommy talk to you this afternoon?”
“Yes,” Wade replied nonchalantly. He couldn’t resist the urge to needle her just a bit. “He wants to breed his mare with Blackjack, once we get settled.”
“Did he say anything else?” she asked, her frown deepening.
Wade took a bite of stew and chewed slowly, watching her fume. “He did happen to mention something about a wedding.”
“Well, what did you say?” she asked, her voice rising in frustration. “Emily asked me this morning.”
Taking his time, Wade scraped the bowl clean. “You make a hell of a stew, Rachel. A lot better than corn bread.” The glance she sent him was enough to singe the whiskers off his unshaven face. “I told him we would be honored.”
Immediately, he knew it was the wrong response. She puffed up fatter than a Christmas hen.
“I was hoping you would say no. Don’t you think we’re being hypocritical to stand up with Tommy and Emily when we’re not even married?” she hissed.
“He didn’t ask me if we were married,” Wade rebutted. “If you don’t want to do it, then we won’t, but I thought it was kind of them to ask us to be in their wedding.”
“We’ll be a mockery of marriage, standing beside them while they pledge to spend the rest of their lives together.”
“Honey, you worry too much,” Wade replied. “I like these kids.”
Glancing away, Rachel shifted on the bench. “You’re shameless Wade Ketchum. We’re behaving blasphemously. I should never have agreed to this ridiculous pretend marriage.”
“No. I guess I should have left you stranded in Fort Laramie to wait until your cash ran out and you had to prostitute yourself. Then at least you wouldn’t be lying to everyone you met. You’d only be whoring instead.