The Complete Oregon Series, page 29
“Let’s take her to the tent,” Bernice said.
Holding up the bleeding woman between them, they stumbled through the darkness, heading for the closest tent.
Luke sat up when they entered, already dressed—one of her husband’s little quirks. He always seemed to sleep fully dressed. “What happened?” he asked with a sleep-roughened voice.
“I think she’s losing the baby,” Nora whispered, her thoughts going back to the night when she’d almost miscarried.
Luke’s gaze met hers, and they silently shared the terrifying memories of that night. Then Emeline’s moans pulled Nora from her thoughts.
As she knelt down, she felt Luke’s warmth at her back. “What can I do to help?” he asked.
Nora opened her mouth, about to tell him to just stay out of their way, but then she stopped herself. Luke had been so good with her when she had almost lost her baby. He’d been the solid rock that she clung to, and he had comforted Emmy down by the river. He was not the average man, who mostly stood by, looking helpless and uncomfortable. “If she lets you, you could try to calm her down some.”
Luke turned and stared at the canvas wall while Nora helped the still sobbing woman undress and covered her with a blanket.
Bernice picked up the half-asleep Amy. “I’ll get the cramp-stopping herbs and leave Amy with Jacob.”
“Thank you,” Nora said. She didn’t want Amy to see this. When Nora looked up, Luke had turned back around and crouched at the end of the tent, where he wouldn’t be in the way. He held Emeline’s hand, wiping her sweaty face with a wet piece of cloth.
The three of them worked for almost an hour, but neither the labor pains nor the flood of blood coming from between Emeline’s legs stopped. The contractions were coming faster and faster until Emeline let out a piercing cry. After a few endless seconds, she collapsed back against Luke.
With tears in her eyes, Nora looked at the much too small, lifeless bundle in Bernice’s arms.
Luke directed a questioning gaze at her.
Biting her lip, fighting not to break down into sobs, Nora shook her head.
“My baby,” Emeline whispered. She tried to sit up to get a look at her child but then fell back weakly.
Luke caught her and held her in a gentle embrace.
“I’m sorry,” Nora whispered. “It was much too soon. It wasn’t ready to be born.”
Emeline’s wails broke the silence of the night.
The tent’s flap was flipped back.
“Goddamn, woman, shut up,” Bill Larson slurred, apparently still drunk. “How am I supposed to sleep with all that noise? What the hell is goin’ on here?” From his position in front of the tent, he stared down at his heartbroken wife and his dead baby without showing any emotions.
“What’s going on? What’s going on?” For the first time in her life, Nora didn’t think about her own survival; she didn’t think about how defenseless she was against the violent man. She was too angry to think at all. “Your wife just lost the baby, thanks to you and your drunken beatings!”
Larson took a threatening step forward, into the already crowded tent. He shook a meaty fist at Luke. “Shut your wife up, or I’ll do it for you.”
Nora swallowed, for the first time realizing that her angry words had put her and Luke in danger.
Gently, Luke disentangled his hand from Emeline’s. He stood and blocked Larson’s way, preventing him from coming any closer. Larson was half a head taller, but Luke looked him in the eyes as if Larson were nothing more than dirt beneath his boots. “My wife can say whatever she wants to, and neither you nor I have a right to stop her. Not that I’d want to, because she’s right. And now go.”
There was nothing weak in Luke’s soft tone. A deathly danger lurked just beneath his composure. His normally gentle gray eyes were like sharp steel now.
“What?” Larson stared at him with an expression somewhere between amusement, anger, and confusion.
“Pack up your tent, take your wagon, and go. You’re not welcome in this wagon train any longer,” Luke said, still not raising his voice.
Larson laughed. It sounded like the roar of an animal. “That’s not your decision to make, weakling. I’ll stay for as long as I want to.”
Luke slowly shook his head. “It is my decision. I’m the captain of this train now. Go.”
“Who’s gonna force me to, huh? You?”
“I’d say Mister Garfield’s shotgun is more than up to the task.” Luke pointed to something behind Bill Larson.
When Larson whirled around, Luke followed him with two quick steps, pulled the revolver from the drunk man’s holster, and hit him over the head with the barrel.
Larson went down with a groan, only his feet sticking into the tent, the rest of him outside.
Nora stared at her normally gentle husband, who calmly looked down at his fallen enemy. They were still alone in the tent—with no sign of Jacob Garfield or his shotgun.
Luke reached for a rope and dragged the unconscious man outside.
“What are you doing?” Nora asked.
“I can’t just leave him to sleep it off,” Luke said, “or he’ll kill me as soon as he wakes up.”
Nora trembled as she realized Luke had just made a mortal enemy.
“Come on.” Bernice nudged her. “We have to get Emmy’s bleeding stopped.”
Nora wrenched her gaze away from Luke, who was tying Larson’s arms, and knelt down to help Emmy. From time to time, her gaze darted away from Emmy to the place in front of the tent. What will he do once he wakes up?
“Amen,” Jacob said, his voice barely audible over Emmy’s loud sobs.
Luke and the other men put their hats back on and shoveled earth onto the tiny grave.
“Your little one is in a better place now,” Bernice said, wrapping one arm around Emmy. “And you’re still young enough to have other children.”
Emmy continued to cry.
Nora embraced her from the other side.
Leaning on his shovel, Brody Cowen nodded toward the camp where Bill Larson had been sleeping it off for the last ten hours. “You didn’t really ask him to leave, did you?”
Luke straightened. “Yes, I did. He’s a drunkard, and he killed his own baby. I won’t have him travel with us any longer.”
“Oh, come on. It was an accident.”
“Accident?” Luke’s voice rose. “No, Brody. It would have been an accident if Emeline lost the baby being run down by an ox team. A man beating his wife is not an accident.”
“He must have had a good reason,” Brody said. “It’s his right as her husband to do whatever he thinks best to discipline her.”
Stony-faced, Luke looked at him. “Then it’s my right as a captain to do whatever I think best to discipline him. He has to leave.”
Brody crossed his arms over his chest. “What if he doesn’t want to?”
“We’ll reach the Raft River tomorrow,” Luke said. “The roads to Oregon and to California split there. The wagon train behind us is heading for California. I’ll ask them to take Larson with them and only let him go when we’re far enough away.”
Emeline’s sobs became even louder. “Please don’t do this. He’ll take it out on me.”
“He won’t be able to—you’re coming with us,” Luke said. Then he stopped and looked into Emeline’s eyes. “That is, if you want to.”
“B-b-but how will I survive? I’ll never make it to Oregon on my own, and even if I do, I’d never survive the first winter without a husband to take care of me.” Emeline covered her face with both hands and cried.
“You’re not on your own. You’ve got friends on this train.” Luke nodded at Nora and Bernice, then, reluctantly, he pointed at himself too.
Tears leaked through Emeline’s fingers. “You’ll all be busy building your own homes.”
“Yeah, that’s right,” Luke said. “Building a horse ranch is gonna be a lot of work. I could use some help. What do you say, do you want the job? I can’t pay much, but…”
Emeline stared at him, and Nora found herself doing the same. He’d repeatedly told her that he was taking on the role of father and husband only temporarily and that she should find herself another husband as soon as they reached Oregon. And now he’s taking on the responsibility for yet another woman?
Brody Cowen stared at him. “You’re crazy. You can’t just take another man’s wife away from him.”
“It’s Emeline’s decision,” Luke said. He directed his gaze at Emeline.
“Why are you doing this?” Emeline whispered.
Luke looked at Nora as if he would find the answer there.
Is he doing this for me? He knows I could have easily been in Emmy’s place. If Luke hadn’t turned out to be the kind and gentle man he is, it could have been my baby, dying before it was even born.
Luke shrugged. “A woman being left to the mercy of her abusive husband, without anyone to intervene… It’s just not right.”
“You shouldn’t be doing this,” Emeline said, her voice still a whisper. “You’re putting yourself—all of you—in danger, just because of me. It would be better if I just stayed with Bill. Maybe I can convince him not to follow you and take revenge.”
“That’s what I’m saying,” Brody said. “It’s none of our business how a man treats his wife. It’s his God-given right. No one else has the right to get involved.”
Just a few months ago, Nora would have said the same thing. She had suffered the cruelties of customers in silence because she’d known no other way. But since they had left Independence, so many things had changed. Luke had taught her not only the skills to fight back, but, more importantly, he’d made her believe that she had a right to do it. “Emmy.” She reached for the pale woman’s hands and looked her right in the eyes. “Do you want to stay with Bill?”
“It’s for the best.”
“Do you want to?” Nora repeated, her gaze even more intense.
Emeline looked away. Tears were leaking from the corners of her eyes. “No.”
“Then you won’t.”
Some of the emigrants shook their heads while others nodded. “Come on,” Eli Rogers said to his wife. “Let’s go back to camp. I want to stay out of this.”
The emigrants dispersed and wandered back to their wagons. Bernice and Jacob led Emmy toward their wagon. Only Brody Cowen, Nora, and Luke stayed behind.
“Listen to my words, young man,” Brody said, pointing his index finger at Luke as if it were a revolver. “You might regret this one day.” Not even giving Nora a fleeting glance, he strode toward the camp.
Thousand Springs,
August 17th, 1851
Luke shifted in the saddle, trying to get a better view of her surroundings.
On the other side of the river, multiple small waterfalls spilled from the canyon wall, forming a line of white, foaming cascades along the dark lava rock. Luke wasn’t sure where the seemingly thousands of waterfalls were coming from; the land around them was barren for many miles around.
But the picturesque waterfalls were not what Luke was on the lookout for. Since leaving Bill Larson with a group of emigrants heading for California, she hadn’t slept for more than two hours at a stretch. Constant worrying kept her awake. The days grew shorter, and their oxen and mules were losing their strength. The responsibility for the small wagon train rested heavily on her. But the struggle against time was not the only thing worrying her.
Here, near the Salmon Falls, Indians were all around them. They had put up their lodges near the river and were fishing. Most of them, the Shoshone in particular, were friendly and even traded fresh and dried salmon. But the Bannocks, who also settled along the Snake River, eyed the white emigrants with suspicion. Now that their group was so small, a few angry braves could become dangerous to them. As a result, Luke was constantly on the lookout for hostile Indians while at the same time keeping an eye out for Bill Larson, who might be following them. In quiet moments, Luke admitted to herself that she might have bitten off more than she could chew. Why on God’s green earth did you volunteer for the role of patron saint of helpless women? You’ve driven yourself into a trap of responsibilities that you can’t escape from. What the hell became of “Never get involved”? She’d lived with that philosophy for many years, making neither friends nor enemies who could discover her secret. But since leaving Independence, she’d broken that personal law more often than she could count.
She’d made the two-thousand-mile trip to Oregon three times, but this time, the journey had become one of discoveries—not about the landscape, but about herself. All her life, she’d thought of herself as a man, but on this journey, she’d discovered hidden female characteristics about herself. She empathized with Nora’s and Emeline’s situations more than the other men on the train. Even the thought of taking care of a small child didn’t scare her any longer. Spending time with Amy had become one of her day’s highlights. Isn’t it ironic? Now that I’m married and a “father,” more of a man than I’ve ever been in the eyes of the world, I’m discovering that there are still some female traits left in me. Sometimes, she worried that being with Nora had softened her, weakened her tough exterior so much that she’d give her secret away someday.
Nearing hoofbeats made her turn around, a hand already on the butt of her rifle. She relaxed when she recognized Tom Buchanan, whose horse fell in step with Measles.
“I wanted to have a word with you,” Tom said, his expression serious.
Luke nodded, warily waiting for what he might have to say.
“It’s about Emeline Larson.”
Luke had waited for this moment. She’d suspected that some of the men in the train would criticize her meddling in the Larsons’ marriage, as Brody Cowen had. “Yeah?” Luke was as determined as ever to defend her decision.
“Neither you nor Jacob can take care of Mrs. Larson,” Tom said. “You’ve got enough mouths to feed already.”
Luke straightened her shoulders. “I’m not sending her back to her husband, if that’s what you’re trying to achieve.”
Tom held up his hands. “It’s not. I’m not too fond of Larson myself. But I think I have a better solution.”
“I’m listening.”
“Well, I’m a horrible cook, and I need someone to do the laundry and look after my children. I’ve lost my wife, and Mrs. Larson ‘lost’ her husband.” Tom gazed at her expectantly. “So, what do you think?”
Luke had to chuckle. “Are you asking me for Emeline’s hand in marriage?”
“No.” The forty-year-old man blushed. “No, of course not. She’s still married after all. It would just be a mutually beneficial business relationship.”
Business relationship. That’s what I told Nora at the beginning too. Just business, nothing more. “It sounds like a good idea, but it’s not my decision to make,” Luke said. “You have to ask Emeline.”
Tom gave a short nod. “All right.”
“Good afternoon.” Tom Buchanan tipped a finger to his hat. “Mrs. Hamilton. Mrs. Larson.”
Nora flicked the whip to keep the oxen moving, then studied him. She had seen him talk to Luke. What was going on? “Good afternoon,” she answered while Emeline just gave him a shy nod.
The young woman was sitting next to Amy on the wagon seat, still too weak to walk along all day.
“What can we do for you, Mister Buchanan?” Nora asked when he didn’t break the silence.
“I just spoke to your husband, Mrs. Hamilton.” He stopped and turned toward Emeline. “I have a proposal for you. You need someone to protect and provide for you, and I need someone to run my household and take care of the children.”
Emeline’s eyes widened. She fiddled with the strings of her apron and directed a questioning gaze at Nora.
Nora immediately recognized the gaze. She had looked at Bernice more than once in that way, silently asking for advice. Now she was the mentor. Come on, you can do this. It’s not that different from bargaining with a customer. “You realize that Emeline is still a married woman, don’t you? If she agrees to your proposal, you won’t have any conjugal rights.”
Tom pulled his hat from his head and kneaded it between his hands. “Of course. I didn’t think—”
“You’ll give her a place in your tent while you sleep in the wagon?”
“I can do that, yeah,” Tom said.
“And when we reach Oregon? What will become of her?” Nora asked.
“I’ll still need a housekeeper. She can stay with me, of course.”
Nora nodded. “Then you’ll pay her for her work?”
Tom reached under his collar with a finger as if the shirt had become too tight. “I can’t pay her much, but I should be able to set aside a small amount for her.”
“All right.” Nora turned to Emeline and studied her pale face. “What do you think? You’re free to agree or refuse. Whatever you want to do is fine with us.” She hoped Emeline would agree. Taking care of Tom’s children would help her to get over the loss of her baby, and the wages Tom paid her would afford her a certain independence. But she remained silent, not wanting to take the decision away from Emeline.
Emeline hesitated for a long time. Then she shyly looked from Nora to Tom. “I accept.”
Two Island Crossing,
August 23rd, 1851
Another difficult decision—and I’m the one who has to make it. Luke crossed her arms over the saddle horn and looked down at the Snake River from the hill the wagons had stopped on.
The river made a bend and briefly escaped from its high canyon walls at this point. This would be the only chance to cross to the northern bank, allowing them to travel the direct route to Fort Boise with ample drinking water. If they didn’t cross here, they would be forced to follow the southern route around the bend through a dry, barren wilderness.
