The complete oregon seri.., p.16
The Complete Oregon Series, page 16
With a sigh, Nora knelt down next to her daughter. “You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart. You didn’t know.” She lifted her head and looked into Luke’s eyes, hoping he would understand. “She must have heard the other children on the train calling their fathers by that name, and she probably thought… Amy, sweetie, Luke is n—”
“No.” Luke held up a hand, stopping her midword. “It’s…” He cleared his throat. “It’s all right.”
Nora stared at him. “It’s all right?” What did that mean? It was all right as long as Amy never referred to him like that again?
“Your children need a father, and I’m willing to fulfill that role for as long as it takes you to find a better man,” Luke said.
A better man? Nora felt like laughing and crying at the same time. Then you’re gonna be their father for as long as you live, because the longer I know you, the surer I am that you are the best man I could ever wish for. Slowly, she stood and rested her hand on Amy’s shoulder. “You really mean that? You would accept Amy and the baby as your own?” She couldn’t hide the hope that shone in her eyes.
Luke shrugged as if it was no big deal. “As long as you’re my wife, your children will be mine too.”
Nora blinked and dazedly shook her head. His wife, his children… Is it really that easy for him? She couldn’t imagine that any other man would have reacted like that. Some might have tolerated that stepsisters or stepbrothers were growing up along with his own children, but she had never seen a proud man like Luke Hamilton just accept another man’s child as his own.
Doubts immediately began to grow in her. Pessimistic thoughts and worries crept back into her mind, but then she watched Luke pick Amy up, out of the dewy grass. The wet hem of her dress soaked his shirt. He shivered in the cool morning air, but he didn’t set Amy back down.
Maybe… Nora allowed a timid hope to grow in her chest as she followed them back to the fire.
Chimney Rock,
June 15th, 1851
A shout from the end of the wagon train made Luke look back over her shoulder.
The Buchanans’ wagon slowed and then stopped.
She raised her arm and shouted out a warning to Jacob Garfield in the wagon in front of hers, who repeated it until the message had reached the front of the train. The command to halt was repeated back the same way until every wagon had stopped almost level with the slender stone column that jutted nearly five hundred feet into the sky.
Chimney Rock was one of the rock formations that rose from the plains along the banks of the North Platte River. The landmark had loomed on the horizon for days and always appeared to be much closer than it really was.
Some of the emigrants had walked three or four miles out of their way to climb the cone or etch their names into the sandstone, but their halt had other reasons.
Mrs. Buchanan had been too sick to walk when they had set out this morning. By noon, the captain had sent riders out to other wagon trains in search of a doctor.
Luke looked at Nora to make sure she was all right, something she found herself doing regularly since she had found out that Nora was pregnant.
Nora sat down on the wagon tongue while they waited for word from the Buchanans’ wagon, stretching her swollen feet out before her.
Now that Luke knew, she could detect a slight bulge where the baby grew. She was still alternating between horror and awe at the thought that she would soon be the “father” of a newborn baby.
Mr. Buchanan emerged from his wagon with a shovel and began to dig a hole right in front of his wagon.
Luke pressed her lips together and silently grabbed her own shovel to help him. She didn’t need to ask to know that Mrs. Buchanan had just died. When the doctor from a nearby wagon train had told them it was cholera, she had known this was the most likely outcome.
Cholera had killed more emigrants than anything else. She had seen people in good health start out cheerfully whistling in the morning. By noon, they writhed in agony with horrible cramps, vomiting, and diarrhea, and they were dead before evening.
Luke dug shoulder to shoulder with Jacob Garfield and Tom Buchanan.
Bill Larson, the neighbor from the wagon behind Luke’s, didn’t come out of his wagon. “Stupid fools,” Larson shouted from behind the wagon cover. “You’ll all die if you don’t stay away!”
Luke ignored him and kept digging. She didn’t believe that cholera was contagious. Last year, when she had seen a lot of people die along the Platte, she had gotten the impression that cholera had to do with the low quality of the drinking water from the shallow river. She couldn’t prove it, but Bill Larson’s superstitious assumption was not enough to make her abandon her neighbor when he needed help. Digging a grave in the packed ground of the trail was hard work, but Luke knew it was the only way now that they’d come this far west.
Chimney Rock marked the end of their travel over flat plains and the start of the mountain portion of the journey. The scenery changed from lush green to dry, brown grass. There was no wood in the area, and that meant they couldn’t build a coffin for Mrs. Buchanan.
Tom Buchanan wrapped his wife’s body in a quilt and lowered her into the shallow grave that they had dug into the ruts of the trail. They hoped that the constant passing of wagons over the grave would wipe away the scent and disguise the location of the grave so that the body would be safe from Indians, grave-robbers, and scavenging animals in the packed earth.
Finally, the emigrants stood together in a loose semi-circle around the fresh grave.
When the captain started to read from his Bible, Nora stepped next to Luke.
Out of the corner of her eye, Luke watched Nora sniffle and wipe her eyes as she helped Amy join her hands in prayer.
Luke wasn’t familiar with the Lord’s Prayer that the others were mumbling in chorus, so she just moved her lips and watched the others.
Mr. Buchanan stood with his head hanging while those of his children that were old enough to understand the irrevocability of death wept openly.
A picture of Nora and Amy weeping at her grave shot through Luke’s mind. She gritted her teeth as she realized the grimness of Nora’s situation if something happened to her. If Luke died or were too sick to continue, if her identity was exposed in the process, Nora and Amy wouldn’t even have the support of the usually close-knit community of the wagon train. No one would have much sympathy for a woman who had married such a freak of nature. No one would believe that she hadn’t known, that she had never shared Luke’s bed.
Luke looked at the assembled emigrants. She had no doubt that Nora would stand alone at her grave if it ever came to that. That is, if she’ll stand at my grave for longer than it takes to spit on it. If anyone attended the funeral at all, they would whisper and talk behind Nora’s back, just as they had talked behind Luke’s back during her childhood.
Luke had long since gotten used to it. She had learned to distance herself from others. Luke hadn’t cared about anyone, and no one had cared about her or what happened to her. She had only ever been responsible for herself.
Now all that had changed. The sudden impulse to take Nora’s hand scared her. It was something a husband, a lover would have done, and she was Nora’s spouse in name only. She curled her hand into a fist. No sense in letting Nora—or herself—hope for something that could never be.
When the prayer ended, she strode away and readied the oxen.
“Are you all right?” Nora’s voice came from behind her.
Luke didn’t turn around. “Sure.” She shrugged as casually as possible. “I didn’t even know Mrs. Buchanan all that well.”
Nora stepped next to her and idly rubbed the lead ox’s flank. “She was a really nice woman. In the beginning, when I couldn’t bake bread to save my life, she shared hers with me more than once.”
Luke shuffled her feet as she watched Nora wipe at her tears. While she had taken care to hold herself separate from the rest of the emigrants, Nora had become a part of the community. She didn’t know what to say.
“I’m sorry,” Nora mumbled. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable with such a display of emotions. I think it’s all that…” She gestured at her growing belly. “It’s making me a bit emotional.”
Luke just nodded. For the last few days, she had avoided discussing the pregnancy with Nora, preferring to just ignore it for the time being. Avoiding the topic once again, she looked away from Nora and detected Amy laying a small bouquet of hand-picked wildflowers next to the grave. “You’re a good mother.”
Nora blinked up at her, and her hands came to rest on her stomach. “Do you really think so?” Hope and doubt mixed in her voice.
“I do.” Luke had never thought that she would say that about a woman who had once been a prostitute, but there was no doubt in her mind that Nora loved her daughter and tried everything she could to do right by her.
The last of Nora’s tears disappeared, and she smiled up at Luke. Golden highlights twinkled in her green eyes, and the charming smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks seemed to dance as dimples formed.
Dancing freckles? Oh, come on. What are you, a fifteen-year-old smitten boy? Luke shook her head at herself. Nora’s looks didn’t matter. She turned away and urged the oxen forward.
Near Chimney Rock,
June 15th, 1851
Nora licked dry lips that had cracked during a long day’s travel over a sandy road. Clouds of dust had hung in the air all day like fog. A thin layer of dirt had coated her skin, and it had been a relief to dip into the small creek where they had set up camp. Even Luke had returned from one of his solitary walks with his hair still damp from a bath.
Finally, after their evening meal, rain began to fall, settling down the clouds of dust and turning them into mud, which forced them to retreat into their tents.
Her tongue flicked over her cracked lip as she concentrated on threading her needle in the dim light inside the tent. When she had finally managed the task, she slipped the bodice of her dress over her head and looked down at the frayed cuff.
She pierced the needle through the fabric. When she pulled the thread through, her gaze fell on Luke.
He quickly turned away, making it obvious for Nora that he had been watching her.
Nora looked down at her thin chemise and smiled to herself. Moments like this were a healing balm to her battered self-confidence because they proved that she could still entice her husband with her female charms—at least a little bit.
The other men on the train were already engaged in more than just looking at their wives. Judging from some of the sounds that came from nearby tents, some of the other couples took advantage of their forced retreat from the rain to make love behind the canvas walls. Nora had worked in a brothel during wartime, so she understood that they were basically celebrating life, reassuring themselves and each other that they were alive and well.
“You know, I don’t mind,” she said.
Luke barely looked up. “You don’t mind what?” He sounded gruff, but Nora had learned that this was his way to avoid showing his emotions.
“I don’t mind you looking at me,” Nora said. “At my body. You are my husband. You are allowed to look.”
Luke glanced up but didn’t answer.
“You’re allowed to do more than just look,” Nora said. She moved over to him and took his hand. His fingers jerked in her grip, but she held on and gently pressed his hand against her belly. She felt his calluses through the thin fabric of her chemise, the slight trembling of his fingers an astonishing contrast. That sign of vulnerability in the normally self-assured man affected Nora. She felt none of the revulsion that usually accompanied a man’s touch.
He tried to pull away, but then his fingers fluttered over her growing belly as if trying to communicate with the unborn child.
To her own surprise, Nora felt herself relax into the gentle touch. She had endured men’s touches hundreds of times in the last three years, but somehow this was very different. Leaning even closer, she deeply breathed in the unobtrusive scent of leather, horse, and something that was just Luke. There was no hesitation on her part as she slowly led his hand upward and pressed it to her half-covered breast.
Luke froze. His gaze flickered over to Amy.
“Don’t worry,” Nora whispered. “She’s fast asleep. She won’t wake up.”
“Yeah.” Luke’s voice was raspy. “Because we won’t give her any reason to. I told you before that I have no intention of sharing your bed.” He slid his hand out from under hers.
Nora had expected him to refuse her again, but she still found herself a bit disappointed. Every time she thought she had finally established any sort of intimacy between them, he distanced himself from her again. “But why? There’s no risk now. I can’t get pregnant twice after all.” She forced a grin.
Luke clenched his hands into fists. “This arrangement would be much easier on both of us if you finally stopped trying to seduce me.”
“Arrangement?” The word left a bitter taste in Nora’s mouth. “The business relationships that I had with my customers were arrangements. What we have is a marriage, Luke.”
Still keeping his gaze fixed on his knees, Luke folded his arms across his chest. “I gave you and Amy my name and a chance to start a new life. I do my best to provide for you and protect you, and I agreed to be a father for your children until you find someone else. Isn’t that exactly what you wanted from our marriage? What more do you want from me?”
Nora swallowed heavily. Having a protector and provider was exactly what she had hoped for when she had agreed to marry him. If she was honest with herself, she had to admit that Luke had already surpassed all expectations. He treated her with a kindness and respect that had been missing from her life, and he showed more interest and patience toward Amy than her own father had ever had for Nora. So what more could she expect of him? What more did she want from him?
Shouts from outside their tent interrupted Nora’s thoughts. The flap was thrown back, and Captain McLoughlin appeared in the tent’s opening. Thick droplets of rain splashed from his graying hair and beard. “Strike the tent,” he shouted over the pouring rain outside. “We have to get away from here right now.”
Then he was gone. In the shocked silence, Nora heard him repeat his shouted message in the next tent.
She blinked and looked at Luke.
As she had expected him to, he immediately took charge of the situation. “You wake Amy and pack up the bedding. I’ll take care of the tent. We’ll meet at the wagon.”
“Amy! Amy, wake up!” She frantically shook her daughter.
Amy’s eyes opened, and she blinked sleepily. With a groan of protest, she tried to turn around and go back to sleep.
“No, Amy, you have to wake up. We have to leave.” While her daughter sat up and struggled halfheartedly out of her sleep-warmed blanket, Nora rolled up her own bedding and Luke’s.
Clutching Amy’s hand in her left hand and the bedrolls under her other arm, she ran outside. Raindrops pelted her face. She bowed her head as she fought against wind and rain. The fire had long since gone out, so the camp lay in darkness. Nora could hardly make out the contours of the wagons. Which one was theirs?
Mud clung to her boots. Every step was harder than the one before.
Chaos prevailed all around her. Everyone was shouting, hurrying through the rain with crying children and a few belongings clutched to their chest.
Nora stumbled. She stopped for a second and turned back around, peering through the rain. She couldn’t make out their tent and hoped that meant Luke had already struck it. Maybe it would be better to wait for him? He always seemed to know a way out of the troubles they found themselves in, and Nora realized that she felt safe with him. No. I have to make it on my own. Luke can’t deal with helping me and taking care of the tent at the same time.
She leaned forward to protect Amy’s body from the rain with her own and then hastened onward.
A bolt of lightning zigzagged across the sky and gave her a brief glimpse of the wagons. This one! She veered to the right and breathed a sigh of relief when she finally reached their wagon. She lifted Amy inside and climbed after her to stow away the now wet bedrolls.
Another lightning lit the sky, revealing the small creek where they had set up camp this evening. Small creek? Nora stared for the second the lightning lasted. It wasn’t a gentle stream any longer. Right next to the circle of wagons a raging river burst over its banks and threatened to overturn the wagons if they stayed any longer.
“Nora?” Luke’s voice was almost drowned by the booming thunder.
Nora stuck her head through the flap. “Here! We’re here!”
With her voice guiding him, he reached the wagon and lost no time strapping the tent poles on the sides of the wagon. “Stay here. I have to bring in the oxen,” he said when he handed her the folded tent cover.
Nora could only imagine how frightened the animals must be by lightning and thunder. From what she had experienced on their journey so far, she knew that a stampede could break out any second. “Luke,” she shouted against rain and thunder.
He turned back around. In the glaring light of another lightning, she saw that his soaked-through shirt was plastered to his skin, and for a second, she thought she saw something like a bandage under the half-transparent fabric. Then the surrounding of the wagon was once again thrown into darkness.
I must have been mistaken. Surely he would have told me if he’d been hurt.
“What is it?” Luke asked.
“It’s just…” Nora swallowed. “Take care, all right?”
