Wagon Train Wedding
“I promise you will both be safe. I’ll guard you with my own life.”
Cora closed her eyes and asked the Lord what she should do.
Within seconds, peace filled her and she felt confident that not only would Flynn look out for Noah but God would, too. Cora opened her eyes. “So, you are offering me the safety of your name?” she asked. “You don’t expect anything from me?”
“Yes, in name only, nothing more.”
“Are you sure about marrying me? Seems to me, I’m getting the better end of the bargain.”
Flynn lifted his hand from her shoulder and touched the baby’s soft cheek. “I’m as sure as a man can be with a marriage of convenience.”
Noah grabbed Flynn’s finger and smiled. He garbled something and then released his new friend, poking two fingers back into his small mouth.
“Looks like Noah has given his approval.” A smile touched her lips. “I’ll marry you.”
Rhonda Gibson lives in Oklahoma with her husband, James. She has two children and four beautiful grandchildren. Reading is something Rhonda has enjoyed her whole life and writing stems from that love. When she isn’t writing or reading, she enjoys gardening and making cards for her friends and family. Rhonda hopes her writing will entertain, encourage and bring others closer to God.
Books by Rhonda Gibson
Love Inspired Historical
Pony Express Courtship
Pony Express Hero
Pony Express Christmas Bride
Pony Express Mail-Order Bride
Pony Express Special Delivery
Baby on Her Doorstep
Wagon Train Wedding
Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.
Wagon Train Wedding
Rhonda Gibson
Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed: for the Lord thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest.
—Joshua 1:9
This book is dedicated to all the men and women who traveled the wagon trains west to create a better life for their families. Also, a big thank you to my husband, James Gibson, for all of your love and support. And, most important, to the Lord above for the talent that You have bestowed upon me that I might bring a little joy into the lives of others.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Epilogue
Excerpt from Finding a Christmas Home by Lee Tobin McClain
Chapter One
May 1867
Independence, MO
From the porch of the general store, Cora Grace Edwards looked out anxiously over the wagon train’s busy preparations to leave Independence, Missouri, for Willamette Valley, Oregon. For the sixth time in less than ten minutes, her eyes passed over each wagon, counting the white canvases. From what she could see, there were five rows of twenty-five wagons each, plus one extra wagon. She was sure that each row had been given instructions as to when to fall into single file behind the other. One hundred and twenty-six covered wagons in all. That was, if she had counted correctly. Her attention kept wandering to the people around her and she’d had to start over again more than once. Still, the counting calmed her. That was why she kept doing it. As a schoolteacher, she’d always valued math lessons, where the answers were clear and straightforward. Nothing else about her life felt nearly as straightforward right now.
This wagon train was larger than others she had seen preparing to leave in the past few weeks. She wondered briefly if there was truth in the old saying, “More safety in numbers.”
The nine-month-old baby she carried wrapped in a sling against her body squirmed. A whimper left his lips and little hands pushed against her. Holding tight to the one small suitcase she carried, she rocked side to side and cradled baby Noah as close as she could. She breathed in the sweet scent of baby powder. Raw, primitive grief overwhelmed her. It shouldn’t be her comforting the baby—it should be his mother. But his mother would never enjoy that small pleasure again.
Caught up in the horror of all she had lost in the last few hours, she could no more stop the tears flowing down her cheeks than she could the sun rising each morning. Her home, her identical twin sister and the only life she had ever known, gone. Just like that, in one night, all was gone. If only she could tell the sheriff what had happened, how brutally her sister had been beaten, barely clinging to life long enough to go to Cora and hand over her son—but Gracie had told her not to tell anyone. Involving law enforcement could backfire, and Gracie’s dying wish had been that Cora get her baby away from his murdering father.
“Ma’am, are you all right?”
Cora turned to face the man. He wore an apron and was bone thin. She recognized him as one of the local shop owners. With the edge of Noah’s blanket, Cora wiped her tears away. “I’m fine. This is just a little overwhelming.” Her gaze returned to the hustle and bustle of the covered wagons and people as they prepared to leave. Oxen bellowed and men shouted above the noise of people, animals and a band that had gathered to give them a proper send-off.
He snorted. “I wouldn’t want to be heading out with them. There is rumor that the Indians are getting tired of their hunting lands being trampled by animals and wagons. This could be the group that ends up having to pay the price.”
Fear gripped her at his words, but determination propelled her into action before she had time to change her mind. Carefully negotiating the wooden steps, trying to see past the baby in her arms, she hurried toward the covered wagons.
But even as she walked, she questioned. Why her sister, Gracie, had chosen the wagon train as a means to escape her abusive husband still mystified Cora. Surely there was another way? Had Gracie thought this through?
Cora’s mind raced, searching for other possibilities to escape the man who had murdered her sister. But just thinking of Hank derailed all other thoughts. Did he know that Noah was with her? Was he already searching for his son? She could only hope that Hank would still be sleeping off the effects of last night’s alcohol consumption until after she’d left town. In the past, he’d slept until well into the afternoon.
Frantic to get her nephew away from his dreadful father, Cora realized that time was of the essence and fear was a great motivator. She had been set on a course not of her own making but she would see it through. Her sister had made her promise to protect and care for Noah. And even though she would be leaving her whole life behind, this was one promise she intended to keep.
The sun, barely rising in the east, meant the wagon train would be leaving soon. She had no time to fret about not going to the schoolhouse this morning or preparing lessons for her students. Those days were gone now. She had sent a note to the school superintendent, explaining that a family emergency had required her to leave immediately—and that she would not be returning. The children would soon have another teacher, and all would continue as normal in their lives. She would be forgotten. It would be as if nothing had changed for them in their world and y
et everything was changing in hers. All within the last few hours.
Gracie’s words echoed in her mind as she searched the covered wagons for a couple by the name of Mr. and Mrs. Clarkson. “Cora, you’ll find them toward the end of the train. I’ve already paid for our food on the trail and everything you’ll need to get started when you get to the valley.”
In that moment, Cora had been so devastated by her sister’s battered state and impending death that she’d barely comprehended the words. As close as the twins had been, she’d had no idea that her sister had planned to leave town, or that she’d arranged to join a couple on the wagon train. Gracie had kept it all a secret—up until the very end, when she’d pleaded for Cora to take her place. She had clasped the front of Cora’s dress tightly, pulling her close. As she struggled for breath, she pleaded, “There is money hidden in the Bible. Please take care of my son... Promise you will get on the wagon train and get as far away from Hank as it will take you.” She’d waited for Cora’s nod of agreement, then pressed on. “I love you both very much.” She’d kissed baby Noah on the cheek, taken another labored breath and then closed her eyes, never to open them again.
Cora had considered going to the sheriff and having her brother-in-law arrested for murder. Surely if Hank was in jail, she and Noah would be safe, and leaving town wouldn’t be necessary after all?
But Cora knew Hank had presented himself as an honorable man and that he had a good reputation in town, so she felt the lawman would not believe her. Yes, Gracie was dead, but it would be Cora’s word against Hank’s as to what had caused that death, and in today’s world, men tended to believe men more than women. Plus, she’d promised to take Noah and run as far away from her sister’s husband as possible. Cora intended to keep her word.
Having never met the Clarksons, Cora had no idea how she would identify the right wagon. They all looked the same in the early-morning light. Their white canvas covers rocked gently in the early-morning breeze. She had read that out on the prairie they looked much like clouds from a distance.
Cora stopped and turned back the way she had come. Gracie had said they would be at the end of the train. But what if Gracie had been wrong? And which row represented the end of the train? What if they had been moved up front for some reason?
“It’s about time you got here, girl. We are almost ready to leave. Hurry up and throw that bag in the back of the wagon with the missus and help me with this ox.”
Cora startled and barely managed to hold back a tiny shriek. The man had to be talking to her, since his green-eyed glare was fixed on her face. Taking a leap of faith and deciding that this was the Mr. Clarkson Gracie had mentioned, she hurried to the back of the wagon and gently laid the bag inside, choosing to ignore his instruction that she throw it.
She could not take the chance that the one glass bottle of milk inside might get broken. If she lost that, she had no idea what she’d do to feed Noah. Earlier, she had rolled the bottle into one of the three dresses she’d added to the bag Gracie was carrying when she’d arrived earlier in the morning. Her sister had packed enough diapers and tiny outfits for Noah for the trip. The bag also held a couple of simple dresses for Gracie—dresses that would, thankfully, fit Cora, as well—and ties for her hair. There was also a small Bible, a journal and a pencil for writing. Nothing more filled the bag.
She was happy to see that baby Noah had settled down and seemed to be sleeping as she hurried to the front of the wagon to help Mr. Clarkson guide the ox to the harness where a second, larger ox awaited. Cora kept her hand against the first animal and watched the older gentleman quickly attach the animals to the wagon. She wondered how much Gracie had told the Clarksons about her situation. Gracie’s strength had failed so rapidly once she’d reached Cora’s door—she’d only had time to share the most pressing details. Cora had no idea how Gracie had found the couple, or what she had told them. Did they know that her sister was running away from an abusive husband? They must. Why else would they take in a young woman with a baby? But what if they didn’t? What if she said the wrong thing and roused their suspicions?
As if he could read her mind, Mr. Clarkson narrowed his eyes and said, “So you decided to go ahead and make this long trip after all, did you? It’ll be a rough journey, you know. But I suppose I can see why you’d need a new start. It’s a sad day when a woman’s man dies.” He waited for her to say something. When she simply stared back at him, he continued, “As promised, as long as you help me and the missus, you’re welcome to go with us all the way to Oregon.”
Cora grimaced. Things just became a little clearer. Gracie had claimed to be a widow to explain why she was leaving. Her heart sank. Her sister had lied to this man and his wife. Cora knew she could not continue with the falsehood. She would have to set the record straight and hope that they’d still be willing to shelter her during the journey.
“Mrs. Edwards!”
A call, more like a screech, came from inside the covered wagon. Cora felt a moment of confusion. Edwards was Cora’s surname, Gracie’s maiden name. Had Gracie chosen to use her maiden name instead of her married name, Marshall? Another lie in order to avoid Hank’s detection?
“Mrs. Edwards!”
“You best go see what she wants.” Mr. Clarkson continued inspecting the harness, dismissing her with a wave of his hand. “I can handle this now.”
Cora felt like a fish out of water. She walked to the back of the wagon. Should she climb inside or wait for Mrs. Clarkson to tell her what to do? If only Gracie had lived long enough to explain what was expected of her, what she’d agreed to do for this couple, or better yet, if only Gracie had lived. Tears pricked the backs of her eyelids and a lump tightened her throat. The urge was strong in Cora to run and not go on the Oregon Trail with total strangers.
The baby squirmed in his sleep, reminding her that nothing mattered more than her pledge to keep Noah safe. She would continue to fulfill her sister’s last wish. She would have to be careful and do her best not to pile more deceptions on top of the ones that Gracie had started. Cora hated lying and this was the biggest lie she’d ever participated in. But she appeased her conscience by reminding herself that this was the best way to keep her precious nephew safe.
A young woman with bright red hair stuck her head out of the cover flap at the back of the wagon. Her green gaze ran over Cora with something akin to dislike. Why would she allow Gracie to join them if she felt such disdain as her look suggested? A heavy Irish accent laced her words. “Cora, why are you standing out there? Get in here and help me move these things. I’ll not have them cluttering up my wagon.”
Cora clumsily climbed over the wooden tailgate of the wagon before the words truly sank in. When they did, she paused, confused. Mrs. Clarkson had called her Cora. Her tired mind tried to wrap around the fact that Gracie had used her name as part of her disguise. It was a good thing that they were identical twins, or this would have been harder to explain. But while the Clarksons didn’t seem to harbor any doubts, Cora herself was filled with them. Honestly, she felt as if she did not know her sister at all. She wouldn’t have thought Gracie capable of this elaborate a deception. What other secrets or surprises had Gracie kept from her?
They had been separated for so long, due to Gracie’s husband’s dislike for Cora. Thankfully, once Noah was born, they’d begun to grow close once more, despite Hank and his evil ways. Or at least, she’d thought they were close. Now she wondered how much her sister had kept from her.
Cora had never thought of Gracie as an outright liar. But now, in the last five minutes, Cora had realized her sister had lied not once but three times. She had said she was a widow, had used her maiden name and had allowed the Clarksons to believe her Christian name was Cora. How many more untruths had Gracie told? She had to have been desperate to lie. Gracie had always been as honest as the day was long; at least, that was what Cora had thought.
Baby Noah pushed ag
ainst her as she stood. She silently prayed she would get better at moving with her nephew strapped to her like a second skin. Thankfully, during Gracie’s many visits to see her, Cora had seen Gracie care for Noah enough to know how to get him into the sling and cradle him against her own body. But it was a bit more difficult swaddling him at nine months of age. Also, unfortunately for her, Gracie had still been breastfeeding. And other than the one-quart bottle of milk she was carrying, Cora had no means of feeding the child. She had already spoon-fed the baby some of the milk, and that seemed to satisfy him for now.
Mrs. Clarkson’s Irish brogue pulled Cora from her thoughts. “I told Harold you’d only be a hindrance to us. You barely managed to get up here, with that kid tied to you like a sack of potatoes.” She shook her head in clear disgust, then pointed to a haphazard mound of boxes and supplies. “I’m going to go visit with Mrs. Grossman. I expect those to be evenly stacked beside that wall when I get back.” She climbed out of the wagon with ease. Then she poked her head back inside the canvas curtain for one final remark. “I didn’t want to bring you, so if you want to stay with us, I suggest you do everything I say, or you just might find yourself sitting beside the Oregon Trail instead of traveling it.” After that, Mrs. Clarkson was gone.
A wave of apprehension swept through Cora. Panic threaded its way into her chest. It was hard to shake the feeling she’d dodged the frying pan only to fall into the fire. Cora bowed her head and tried to pray for strength, but at the moment, God seemed far away. She felt more alone than she’d ever been in her life.
If the woman’s words were anything to go by, Cora would learn over the next several months what it meant to be a servant. Well, wasn’t it in the Scriptures somewhere that God said to have a servant’s heart? At times like this, Cora wished she had studied her Bible a bit more. But this was not the moment to fret about that. Grimly, she began to stack boxes. A suddenly remembered verse stopped her in midstride. She whispered it aloud: “Cast your cares upon Him, for He careth for you.” She knew those words were Scripture; her grandmother had drilled her and Gracie on verses each night. And just like that, she felt a ray of peace and satisfaction shine in through her fear and sadness. Someone cared. He cared.