Temporary Marriage

When she and her sister are unexpectedly orphaned and prevented from traveling West unless they have a male chaperone, Mattie Prescott disguises herself as a boy. But after Mattie’s fellow wagon train companions discover her masquerade, their long-dreamed-of fresh start is over before it’s even begun. She has only one choice: marriage to the man who helped her—and kept her secret—along the trail.

To save her honor and his own, Josiah Dawson agrees to take Mattie as his bride. But his plans don’t include a wife, and this hasty union is just a temporary duty he’ll dissolve at the end of the trail. As Mattie proves herself indispensable in the face of tragedy, though, it’s soon clear that she’s also indispensable to Josiah’s heart...

“I’ll do it. I’ll marry Mattie.”

Everyone appeared relieved that the decision had been made.

Now it was just a matter of informing the bride about her impending nuptials. Josiah glanced toward the other covered wagons and easily picked out Mattie, even though she was attired in a gown and bonnet for the first time in their acquaintance.

He brought her near the river’s edge, a short distance from the wagon train, where they had a measure of privacy. A slight breeze blew across the water and lifted her bonnet strings, setting one fluttering against her cheek. She impatiently brushed it aside. “Well? What’s the verdict?”

An infinitesimal pause preceded his response. “Marriage.”

Just that one word. Nothing more.

She shook her head in confusion. “Come again?”

“You cannot stay on the wagon train without a man to take responsibility for you, so you need to marry. Miles has insisted that a wedding take place. Today. Before we go any farther.”

“You can’t be serious! Where does Mr. Carpenter imagine I’ll find a husband out here in the middle of nowhere?” She threw her arms wide.

“You’re looking at him.”

Dear Reader,

Thank you for choosing to read Wed on the Wagon Train, my first Love Inspired Historical.

I’ve always been fascinated with Oregon Trail history. I’ve traveled to landmarks all along the route, including Scotts Bluff, Independence Rock, and the Blue Mountains. I’ve visited forts, stood on the banks at river crossings and walked in wagon ruts cut several feet into solid stone.

From the 1840s to the 1860s thousands of men, women and children left behind almost everything to embark on the difficult and dangerous two-thousand-mile trek. All for the promise of a better life. I believe there’s a bit of that pioneer spirit in each of us.

I hope you enjoyed reading about Mattie and Josiah’s journey.

Happy Holidays,

Tracy Blalock

TRACY BLALOCK lives in Southern California with her family and assorted pets. An avid reader from a young age, it was always her dream to write books of her own. She earned a bachelor of arts in history, and loves researching interesting historical facts. When she’s not reading or writing, she enjoys traveling to museums and historic sites, which she uses as inspiration to dream up new characters and stories.

Wed on the Wagon Train

Tracy Blalock

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

—Psalms 23:6

To my family, for always believing in me.

Especially my sister, Robyn.

You were certain I’d receive “The Call” for this book, though you hadn’t even read it yet. Somehow you just knew.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

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

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Independence, Missouri

Early May, 1845

You’re supposed to be a man, so stop acting like a girl, Matilda Prescott silently warned herself.

She couldn’t afford to be distracted by a handsome cowboy. But there was something vastly appealing about a man so different from the dandies she’d known back in Saint Louis. Her eyes tracked him as he sat straight and tall in the saddle, moving as one with his mount, the sun glinting off his red-gold hair.

With no small effort, she dragged her gaze away from the rider. Hitching up her too-large pants, she concentrated on taking long, manly strides with no eyebrow-raising, feminine hip-swaying, as she headed toward the nearest covered wagon and the man loading provisions.

“Do you know where I can find the wagon master?” she questioned, pitching her voice low and deep.

The man scratched his whiskered jaw. “Miles Carpenter’s the gray-bearded gent in the red shirt over yonder.”

“Thank you.” She touched her hat brim, then headed toward the older man.

He was sitting on an overturned barrel, examining a broken leather harness.

“Mr. Carpenter? I’m Matt Prescott.” She extended her hand. “My younger sister and I would like to join your wagon train.”

He gave her an assessing look before setting his work aside and returning her handshake. “You’ll need a wagon and team and enough provisions to last through four or five months.”

“We have all that, sir. Everything’s at the livery stable, ready to go.”

“I heard a wagon had been left behind by the previous group. Was that you?”

“Yes, sir.” She gulped nervously, fearing what else he might’ve heard. Was her plan about to unravel at the seams?

“Why were you left behind?”

The question eased her mind considerably, proving he didn’t know the full story of how another wagon master had refused to take along two unescorted females after their father’s death. She couldn’t let the same thing happen a second time. Which was why she wasn’t giving this man the chance to turn down Matilda Prescott.

“Our father took ill after we reached Independence and when he wasn’t able to travel, the wagon train left without us.” She stayed as close to the truth as possible to minimize the possibility of tripping herself up later.

And prayed God forgave her for this deception.

“Where’s your pa now?” Mr. Carpenter asked.

Mattie blinked several times, determined she wouldn’t allow any tears to fall. Her father’s recent passing was a raw, unhealed wound, but she couldn’t show any weaknesses. Men didn’t cry. She dug her nails into her palms and closed her eyes, focusing on the physical pain to keep her grounded in the present.

When she had her emotions under control, she lifted her lashes and met the older man’s gaze. “Our heavenly Father called him home.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, son.” He rested his hand on Mattie’s shoulder for a moment, giving it a comforting squeeze. But she knew better than to hope his sympathy would extend to accepting the Prescott siblings without question. “How old are you?”

“Nineteen.”

He eyed her askance. Should she have shaved a few years off her real age? She lacked the whiskers of a mature man, but the wagon master would surely deny her request if he thought her only a boy.

She waited for his judgment and breathed a sigh of relief when he let the matter of her age drop.

“It’s a long, difficult journey, and every family needs to pull their own weight. Can you handle the hardships we’ll encounter?”

“Yes, sir. I can take care of my sister and myself.” She hoped.

Please, Lord, help me keep Adela safe.

The younger girl was the only family she had left on this side of the Missouri River. But an aunt and uncle waited for them in Oregon Country, if only Mattie and Adela could reach them.

Several tense moments passed without a response from the wagon master, and Mattie’s heart pounded in her chest.

Finally, he nodded. “We leave tomorrow.”

“We’ll be ready.” She turned to hurry away before he changed his mind.

She missed a step when her gaze landed on the handsome cowboy she’d spotted a short time ago.

He was walking in her direction and offered her a cordial nod as he passed. “Howdy.”

She returned the gesture, but not the greeting, his intense blue gaze rendering her mute. Her eyes followed him as he continued toward Miles Carpenter.

Dressed in a blue chambray shirt, which contrasted with the red highlights in his hair, the younger man was a strapping figure next to the more portly frame of the wagon master. His angular jaw sported a dusting of cinnamon-colored bristles, and he was handsome enough to turn any woman’s head.

Realizing she was staring at him like a brainless ninny, she shook herself out of her stupor, then quickly ducked her head and continued on her way. Before anyone took note of her—pretending to be a him—making eyes at the cowboy.

“What can I do for you, Josiah?” she heard Miles Carpenter ask.

She didn’t listen to the answer. Instead, she turned her thoughts to the numerous tasks awaiting completion before tomorrow.

A sudden gust of wind caught the brim of her hat, sending it sailing across the ground. The current of air blew the hat into the legs of a horse, and the animal spooked, bucking and unseating its rider.

Mattie rushed forward and snatched up the dangling reins to control the horse, keeping it from trampling the rider beneath its hooves. “Easy,” she soothed the frightened animal.

Scrambling out of danger, the man climbed to his feet and yelled an obscenity at his mount. He drew back his arm to strike its hindquarters with a short leather crop. The horse’s eyes rolled and it danced to the side, a sure sign that the crop had been used on him before.

“Stop!” She had no respect for anyone who would mistreat a defenseless animal. Inflicting pain on the horse was the mark of a weak man. In her outrage, she forgot to speak in a deep voice, and she hastily lowered her pitch. “It’s not the horse’s fault.” She stroked the animal’s velvet-soft nose to calm it.

The man turned angry eyes toward her. “You are correct,” he bit out in a clear-cut British accent. “The fault lies with you.”

She trembled inside, but stood her ground. He angled away from the horse, raising his crop toward her, instead.

She had only a moment to regret her impulsive intervention. Ducking her head, she raised her arm in defense and waited for the blow to fall.

* * *

Josiah Dawson caught the crop in midair before it could make contact with the slight young man he’d seen talking to the wagon master a short time ago. The kid’s shaggy brown hair was cut in uneven hunks, and his baggy clothes appeared two sizes too big for his frame, as if he hadn’t quite grown into them, yet.

Josiah could understand why Miles had expressed reservations about allowing this boy to join the group. Only a few minutes had passed since that conversation and already the kid was mired in a sticky situation, taking on a man almost twice his size.

Josiah was reminded of the Bible story about David and Goliath. Only this boy didn’t have even a slingshot for protection.

Deliver the poor and needy; rid them out of the hand of the wicked.

The verse running through Josiah’s mind, he faced off against the aggressor. “Not a good idea, Hardwick.”

The other man puffed up like a riled rooster. “You will address me as Lord Hardwick, as is proper.” He paused, allowing time for Josiah to correct the error. But when he realized no bootlicking was forthcoming, his lips pressed together in a thin line. “My father is the Earl of Fenton, and I will not be taken to task by one so far beneath me. I intend to teach this boy to show the proper respect for his betters, and you would be wise to stay out of matters which do not concern you, Dawson.”

Josiah didn’t back down. “Miles Carpenter has a rule against violence between members of his group. If he hears about this incident he might rethink whether you’re the type of person he wants to spend the next several months with.”

“I do not answer to him,” the other man countered.

If this pretentious Brit didn’t know the wagon master’s rules were law on the trail, he would soon learn that lesson. “Well, see now, that’s where you’re wrong. The same rules apply to you as everybody else. You’re not in England anymore. Your daddy’s name has no sway here—we judge people on their actions, not their family trees. And Miles Carpenter will do what’s in the best interest of the group. Now, do you want him to decide that’s you finding another way to get to Oregon Country? Or are you going to leave the boy alone?”

Hardwick glared in silence for a moment before jerking the crop out of Josiah’s grip. Though they were fairly evenly matched in size, Josiah hoped to avoid a physical altercation. He tensed, waiting for Hardwick’s next move. But the Brit didn’t raise his crop to strike again. Instead, he snatched his horse’s reins from the young man’s loose hold, yanking cruelly on the animal’s tender mouth. He stalked away without another word to either Josiah or the kid.

Josiah bent down and retrieved the errant hat, knocking it against his thigh to remove some of the dust, then extended it toward the boy.

Miles had confided that he suspected the newest member of their group had exaggerated his age in order to join the wagon train. Josiah was inclined to agree. The boy’s beardless chin certainly belied the claim that he was nineteen.

Accepting the hat, he placed it on his head and pulled the brim low to shade his face. “Thank you for that,” he offered in a gruff voice.

Josiah understood he meant more than the return of his headwear. “Steer clear of Hardwick from now on.”

“I will.”

He hoped the kid took his words to heart. Still, Josiah was impressed with a scrappy fighter who waded in against injustice despite the odds. It reminded him of his former self. He’d been orphaned when he was just a few years younger than he guessed this boy to be.

Almost a dozen years had passed since then, but he well remembered getting in over his head and needing someone to step in to help. In his case, his older half brother, Elias, had come to his aid. And though he was now a grown man, Josiah appreciated his brother’s continued support. Which was why he’d agreed to join Elias and his wife, Rebecca, on this journey.

Only a few short months ago, Josiah had completely different plans. But things had changed, and those dreams were gone. He’d lost the woman who held his heart and his best friend in the same day—but not to death. There was a wall between them. And though it was of Josiah’s own making, he couldn’t scale it. It was better that he left.

With nothing for him back in Tennessee, he welcomed the new life that waited out west. And the next few months would be much easier with others to share the load.

But this young kid had no one he could depend on to watch his back. Plus, he had a younger sister to look out for.

“I’m Matt Prescott.” The boy stuck out his hand.

He accepted the handshake. “Josiah Dawson.”

Matt dug the toe of his boot into the dirt, keeping his head down and his face hidden from view. “So, we’ll be traveling together, I guess.”

“Looks that way.” If the kid could keep himself out of trouble and avoid getting kicked out of their wagon train.

“Don’t worry that you’ll have to bail me out of any more scrapes. I’ll be more careful from now on.”

“That’s good to hear. Just see that you remember to stop and think before going off half-cocked. Your sister’s depending on you.”

Matt’s head came up and a look of surprise flashed across his face.

“Miles mentioned it’s just you and your sister,” Josiah explained.

“Oh.” He seemed discomfited to find he’d been a topic of conversation. “Well, I better get going now. Thank you again.”

Josiah’s eyes narrowed as Matt hurried away. With his focus initially on Hardwick, he’d only gotten a brief glimpse of the kid’s face before it disappeared beneath his hat brim. And afterward Matt had appeared reluctant to meet his gaze. Maybe the boy was simply shy. But Josiah didn’t quite believe that explanation. Not after Matt had confronted the haughty Brit deliberately.

But if the kid had lied about his age, would that account for his evasiveness?

Or was he hiding something more?

* * *

Mattie glanced back and found Josiah watching her, a speculative expression on his face. Had his blue eyes seen too much? After getting a good look at her face, had he guessed her true gender?

Was that the reason he’d stepped in unasked to defend her? Not because she was smaller than the high-and-mighty earl’s son, but because he had realized she was a woman? Though her heart sank at the thought, she tried to remain calm. If he’d worked out the truth about her, surely he would have reported her to the wagon master.

Wouldn’t he?

She pushed away the worrying question. She could only assume that her secret was safe. At least for the time being.

But one thing had been made clear to her—she needed to do a better job of taking care of herself. This time, she’d been fortunate not to end up with a nasty welt—or worse. She couldn’t expect someone to ride to her rescue every time she ran into trouble. She had to learn to deal with problems on her own. She couldn’t risk allowing anyone to get close enough to discover the truth.

With that in mind, she kept her head down to discourage any friendly greetings as she made her way through the town’s congested streets, thronged with people preparing for the trail.

It was already nearing noon, and time was in short supply for her to get everything ready for their imminent departure.

Their father had outfitted them well for the journey, but when he’d taken ill their covered wagon and oxen had been left at the livery stable, while the Prescott family took rooms in a nearby boardinghouse.

The livery was her first stop.

Stepping into the dim interior, she searched out the stable master. He accepted without comment her explanation that she was a young man running an errand for the Prescott sisters, and he promised to have the oxen hitched to the wagon and delivered to the boardinghouse first thing the following morning.

Their supplies had remained loaded in the covered wagon, and all that was left for them to do tomorrow was add the trunks of personal items, which still needed to be packed back at the boardinghouse.

She’d left Adela there alone without explanation and had been gone longer than she’d anticipated. The younger girl must be frantic by now. Mattie felt terrible for causing her sister additional fear and worry, after the last ten days of uncertainty they’d already gone through since their father’s passing.

As she neared the boardinghouse, her steps slowed. The livery had been easy, but this next part might prove more challenging. While a strange male roused little suspicion in a stable, his presence wouldn’t go unquestioned in a genteel rooming establishment.

But she’d come too far to lose her nerve now.

Straightening her shoulders, she turned the knob on the front door. The hinges squealed as the heavy oak door swung open. She winced and swept a furtive look around. Seeing neither the landlady nor any of the other boarders, she quickly headed toward the stairs. All the way up to her room, she expected to hear a voice behind her demanding to know why she was skulking through the house. But she didn’t encounter anyone.

She opened the door to her room and stepped inside, a sigh of relief gusting out of her tight chest.

Adela was bent over an open trunk, a silver-backed hairbrush in her hand. She glanced up as the door clicked shut. Her eyes widening in fright, she let out a high-pitched shriek.

“Shh, Adela.” The last thing they needed was someone bursting into their room to investigate.

She took a step toward her sister.

But the other girl backed away. “Don’t you come any closer, or I’ll scream again,” she warned, brandishing the hairbrush as if it was a sword.

“Adela, it’s me.” Removing her hat, she set it on the marble-topped bureau.

“Mattie? You scared me to death!” The hairbrush slipped from her fingers, and she placed her hand over her heart. Then her mouth dropped open as she took notice of Mattie’s altered appearance. “What happened to your hair?!”

Mattie fingered a short lock. She didn’t have to look in the mirror to know what she’d see—ragged chunks cut close to her head, instead of the long brown curls that had reached almost to her hips.

Adela plopped down onto the bed. “And why are you dressed like that? Those look like Papa’s clothes.” Tears filled her eyes at the mention of their father.

“These are Papa’s clothes.” She dropped her hand from her shorn strands, refusing to mourn anything as silly as hair. The loss of their beloved father was much more significant. The pain throbbed like a physical wound, but she kept a tight rein on her emotions. Though they’d buried him little more than a week ago, she couldn’t wallow in grief. “I came up with a way for us to reach Oregon Country.”

And she’d acted quickly, not giving herself time to rethink the daring plan and change her mind. After hacking off her hair, she’d changed into her father’s clothes. He had been taller and broader than Mattie, and the garments hung on her. But the loose material helped to disguise her feminine figure.

Adela wiped a tear away and shook her head in confusion. “How can we do that? Two females can’t travel alone, Matilda. You know that.”

“You seem to be missing the fact that we aren’t two females anymore. Matt Prescott, at your service.” She executed an exaggerated bow.

“Do you really think you’re going to fool anyone with that ridiculous getup?”

“I fooled you, didn’t I? Or was it someone else who screamed and threatened me with a hairbrush when I entered the room?”

Adela colored at the reminder. “You surprised me. I would have realized it was you in a moment or two.”

“True. But you’re my sister. A stranger won’t know me from Adam. I was out most of the morning dressed like this, and nobody doubted I was a man.” Though to be completely honest, Josiah Dawson was a disturbing question mark on that point. However, he hadn’t confronted her, and that was good enough for now.

She hoped her disguise would hold for the whole journey, but once they were out on the trail, surely the wagon master would have to let them stay, even if her gender was revealed.

“I still don’t think your plan will work,” Adela argued.

“It already has.” She opened a bureau drawer and started pulling out garments, then moved to her trunk and tucked the items inside. Though she’d have little use for the feminine clothing in the coming months, once they reached Oregon Country she’d be glad to have them. Her father’s clothes, except for the pants and shirt she wore, were packed away in another trunk. “The wagon master’s agreed to let us—or to be precise, ‘Matt’ and his sister—join his group.”

“So that’s why you left the table in the middle of breakfast. I did wonder over your abrupt departure, but I never imagined you’d come up with such a harebrained scheme.”

Mattie turned toward her sister. “Do you have a better idea? We’re paid up through the end of the week, but after that we don’t have the money to pay for this room.”

“We could sell the covered wagon, oxen and supplies, couldn’t we?”

“Yes, but the cash we’d receive wouldn’t last forever. When it ran out, what would we do? How would we support ourselves?”

“One of us could find a husband and get married.” Adela’s curls bobbed up and down as she nodded her head, the chestnut strands shimmering in the stream of sunlight spilling through the window.

She made a stark contrast to Mattie right now.

“I doubt any man would want to take me as a wife, looking like this.”

But it was no great loss since she didn’t particularly want a husband anyway. At least, not right now. If circumstances forced her to marry in haste, she wouldn’t have a chance to truly get to know her bridegroom first. To place herself and Adela completely under a man’s power without being absolutely certain of his character was unthinkable.

Mattie had made a narrow escape back in Saint Louis and wouldn’t make the same mistake again, judging a man by outward appearances without taking the time to discover if the inside matched his outer facade.

Hopefully her fifteen-year-old sister had learned from Mattie’s error, as well. “Do you want to marry a strange man and put your trust in him?”

The younger girl shook her head, clearly recognizing the pitfalls in that arrangement.

Mattie grasped her sister’s hands. “This is the only way.”

But Adela still looked doubtful. And with good reason.

Though their biggest obstacle—convincing the wagon master to let them join the wagon train—had been overcome, any number of other things could go wrong in the coming days.

Even if no one else knew it, they were two women alone, with only God’s protection against whatever dangers they faced.

Would she and Adela be up to the journey ahead?

Chapter Two

“It’s not too late to change your mind, Mattie.”

Adela’s words echoed Mattie’s inner doubts as she surveyed the wagons and oxen teams lined up at the Missouri River’s ferry crossing.

Was she making a mistake?

She hadn’t thought so a short time ago when their covered wagon had arrived at the boardinghouse as promised. While Mattie stayed out of sight, Adela had overseen the loading of their trunks without incident, and they were quickly under way.

Now, however, Mattie’s earlier confidence was suffering a decided downturn.

She shifted her gaze to focus on her sister. Adela certainly didn’t look like a girl about to embark on an arduous four or five month journey. She was decked out in a fancy costume complete with frilly parasol, as if going for a casual jaunt around the park.

Before his passing, their father had purchased practical garments suitable for travel for himself and his daughters. Mattie, seeing little sense in hanging on to remnants of the past, had gotten rid of anything she wouldn’t need in her new life. But Adela had flatly refused to part with so much as a lacy hankie from her wardrobe, despite the fact that wagon space was limited and expensive fabrics had no place on the trail.

It wasn’t surprising she’d dug in her heels over the issue, however, since she’d been against this trip from the start. She hadn’t wanted to give up their life in Saint Louis.

And Mattie felt personally responsible for her unhappiness. The family’s financial decline was a direct result of choices Mattie had made.

But neither her guilt nor Adela’s objections could restore what they’d lost. That life was gone, whether they returned to the city or not. Adela would have to come to terms with their changed circumstances.

Their best hope for a bright and joyous future lay ahead in Oregon Country.

Taking a deep breath, Mattie stiffened her own flagging resolve. “We can’t go back. And remember to call me ‘Matt.’ No one can know the truth.” She didn’t want to consider what might happen if Adela accidentally called her Mattie in front of anyone.

“I’m sorry. It just slipped out. But I’ll be more careful. I promise.”

Mattie steered the oxen toward the end of the line and drew them to a halt behind the last wagon. The lowing of cattle and whiny of horses mixed with the sound of people shouting and whips cracking, creating a cacophony of noise.

Several minutes passed without any movement forward.

Adela fanned herself with one lace-gloved hand and huffed out an impatient sigh. “How long will we have to wait for our turn to cross the river?”

Scanning the dozen or so covered wagons waiting ahead of them, Mattie shook her head in answer. “I don’t know.”

“Hours, most like,” a male voice interjected.

Mattie turned toward the speaker and recognized the bearded man who had pointed out Miles Carpenter to her the previous day. Of medium height and build, he looked to be in his forties or fifties.

He nudged the brim of his hat up to scratch his temple. “It’ll take the better part of the day to get all twenty-five wagons across the river. But it gives folks a chance to get to know each other. The name’s Jed Smith.”

Mattie hesitated to reply. Each encounter with other travelers held the potential for disaster if her ruse was exposed. But living in such close quarters over the next few months looked to make any attempts at completely dodging conversation an impossibility.

Grudgingly, she accepted Jed’s outstretched hand and again introduced herself as Matt Prescott, knowing she would be called on to do tasks so many times over the next several days.

The deception was already wearing on her, and it had only just begun. Would it get any easier in time? Probably not. But she couldn’t let that discourage her.

Jed squinted against the glare of the sun as he surveyed Mattie and Adela. “Seeing as how you joined the wagon train only yesterday, I’d guess you haven’t had occasion to meet many of our fellow travelers yet.”

“No, we haven’t,” Adela replied. “Are all these people making the journey?”

“Yep.” Jed hooked his thumbs under his suspenders and shifted his stance, indicating he planned to stay and chat for a while. “All told, our group’s about two dozen families. Mostly farmers, like myself and the Bakers with their brood of six, and Thomas Malone, a widower with a pair apiece of teenage offspring—two boys, and two gals about your age, missy.”

“By any chance, would that be the two tall, blonde girls standing by the covered wagon near the head of the line?” Adela questioned.

Jed glanced in that direction and nodded. “That’s them.”

Mattie reached for Adela’s arm and gave it a slight squeeze as a subtle signal to shush her.

The younger girl simply shook off her hold, however. “And who is that man on horseback, wearing a brocade waistcoat and starched cravat? He certainly isn’t a farmer.”

“That’s Phillip Hardwick, a fancy British lord. He’s brought along a pair of servants. We also have a doctor and a preacher traveling with us. Then there’s our trail guide, a mountain man and trapper.” Jed fell quiet, his expression expectant.

Clearly, he was hoping the Prescotts would volunteer information about their own background.

And Adela obliged him, despite Mattie’s none-too-subtle elbow to her ribs. “We’re from Saint Louis originally. Now, we’re traveling to join relatives. Our uncle owns a hotel in Oregon City. The Prescott. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?”

Jed shook his head. “I can’t say that I have.”

Mattie cleared her throat and spoke before Adela had a chance. “It was nice meeting you, Mr. Smith—”

“Jed,” he inserted.

“Jed. We won’t keep you any longer.”

He tugged his hat brim down lower on his forehead. “Well, I’ll just mosey along and say howdy to some other folks.”

Once he was out of earshot, Mattie turned toward her sister. “You shouldn’t encourage conversation. We must be especially careful that no one discovers the truth.”

Adela pursed her lips. “We’ll draw more attention to ourselves if we refuse to speak to anybody. That will make it seem as if we have something to hide.”

“We do have something to hide.”

“Yes, but we don’t want the others to suspect that.”

Mattie had to concede her sister made a valid point.

Adela waved to a passing woman, who offered them an affable smile. “Besides, chatting helps pass the time.”

“Fine. But please, watch what you say.”

Adela held up one hand as if making a pledge. “I promise not to let words come tumbling out of my mouth with no prompting from my brain. Will that satisfy you?”

“Thank you.”

It quickly became apparent that Jed wasn’t the only person who viewed the delay as an impromptu social gathering. Several others approached her and Adela, including a couple who turned out to be Josiah’s brother and sister-in-law.

Elias Dawson looked to be half a dozen years older than Josiah, but the family resemblance between the two was strong. Blessed with similar good looks, both men were tall and well built. But Mattie estimated Josiah stood an inch or two taller, and his frame carried a bit more muscle than the older man. It was difficult to judge for certain, however, without the pair positioned side by side.

Although a redhead like his brother, Elias’s hair was a darker chestnut than Josiah’s light red-gold hue. The most notable difference between the siblings was that the elder didn’t share the same intense blue eye color that had so struck Mattie the day before. Instead, the older man’s eyes were an ordinary shade of brown.

Rebecca, Elias’s wife, was a petite blonde in her early twenties. She seemed a pleasant woman, with her friendly manner and twin dimples bracketing her charming smile.

Mattie extended the bare minimum of courtesies. Adela, in contrast, chattered on merrily. “You’ll have to excuse Matt. He’s a bit tongue-tied around strangers,” she offered at one point.

Mattie’s stomach was in knots as she agonized over all the things Adela might let slip. But the younger girl skirted around any dangerous topics and steered the conversation toward inconsequential chitchat.

Still, Mattie breathed a sigh of relief when Josiah’s relatives eventually departed.

Time crept by, the minutes turning into hours as they waited their turn to ferry across the river. Mattie’s tension coiled tighter and tighter until she was almost sick with it. If only they were already out on the trail she would feel slightly more at ease. Sitting here, however, she was all too aware that it would be a simple matter for Miles Carpenter to order her and Adela back to Independence. The town was still much too close for her peace of mind.

And it didn’t help that the line of covered wagons inched ahead at a snail’s pace. Every so often she prodded the team into motion and the wagon rolled forward, only to come to a standstill again after a few short feet. This pattern was repeated again and again as morning gave way to afternoon. Until, finally, there was a single covered wagon left in front of them.

“You’re beautiful,” a child’s voice piped up, snagging Mattie’s attention.

She shifted her gaze and spotted a little girl of about five standing beside their wagon, staring at Adela in rapt awe. “Are you a princess?”

Adela laughed in delight. “No. But thank you for the lovely compliment.”

“Sarah Jane Baker, come away from there!” A woman with the same light brown hair and hazel eyes as the little girl rushed over and caught the child’s arm in a firm grasp. “Don’t bother the fine lady.”

“But, Mama,” Sarah Jane protested, tugging against her mother’s hold.

Adela offered mother and daughter a wide smile. “She’s not a bother.”

Mrs. Baker seemed momentarily stunned by Adela’s dazzling expression, but quickly recovered her wits and hastened her child away.

A piercing whistle rent the air, drawing Mattie’s attention to the man waving her forward. It was their turn to board the wooden ferry, at last.

But she immediately hit a snag when she tried to get the oxen in motion. After countless starts and stops, they weren’t inclined to budge any farther. And she had no idea how to persuade them. Though plenty of men used whips to control their teams, she hesitated to do so.

“Get up,” she urged, but to no avail.

One animal stamped his foot, but the team didn’t move forward.

Climbing down from the wagon seat, she walked to the head of one of the oxen and tugged on the U-shaped metal piece encircling his neck. Still nothing.

She didn’t have the strength to muscle him where he didn’t want to go. To make matters worse, he shook his head as though silently scoffing at her puny efforts.

“You’re making me look bad,” she scolded the recalcitrant beast. “Come on, cooperate. Please?”

All she got in response was an ear twitch.

“Hurry up!” a man yelled behind her, his British accent instantly recognizable.

Couldn’t he see she was trying? If he was in such an all-fired rush, he should offer his assistance instead of just shouting orders. But he no doubt considered it beneath him to help others.

Mattie wished her father had chosen horses to pull the covered wagon. She prided herself on her ability as a horsewoman. They would have given her no trouble. But horses couldn’t live off prairie grasses like oxen. And oxen were supposed to be more reliable—though, apparently, someone had forgotten to tell her team.

Lord, please move these oxen.

Josiah appeared at her side as if in answer to her prayer. “Need some help?”

Though it wasn’t what she’d meant when she’d appealed to the Lord, she wasn’t going to question His ways. “Yes, please,” she accepted in relief.

He gave the animal’s rump a light tap, which was enough to get him moving, and the rest of the team followed behind as docile as lambs, trailing Josiah onto the ferry.

Her cheeks heated.

What had she done wrong? She had no experience with driving a wagon. Had the oxen sensed that? If she couldn’t control her team, she’d be subjected to dangerous scrutiny. It felt like dozens of eyes were focused on her even now, and she pulled the brim of her hat lower over her face.

Once the wagon wheels rolled onto the wooden planks, Josiah hopped back down to the ground. “There you go.”

“Thank you.” Mattie stepped onto the ferry then glanced back in time to see Josiah heading toward an area where several horses were penned.

When he reached the fence, he paused to stroke the nose of one animal. It was a different horse than the one she’d seen him riding yesterday.

The wind tousled his bright hair, causing a lock to fall over his forehead. He was one of the most handsome men she’d ever met.

But good looks could hide a multitude of sins, as she knew from personal experience. Even months later, she still sometimes had nightmares about what her life would be like if she’d married Charles Worthington back in Saint Louis. She touched her cheek, where a tiny scar served as a permanent reminder to look beneath the surface.

Josiah appeared to be a truly good man—stepping in on two separate occasions to help her out—but she’d been fooled before and wouldn’t naively trust that he was everything he seemed.

Too much was at stake.

And she still didn’t know whether he’d seen through her disguise. Had he discerned more about her than he’d let on? The thought left her unsettled, but she scolded herself not to borrow trouble.

Nonetheless, she had to keep her guard up. Around him and everyone else.

The river current suddenly rocked the ferry, pulling her focus away from the far bank. She tightened her hold on the wagon frame and turned to face west.

It was midafternoon by the time all twenty-five wagons were across the river, and their group made it less than two miles before the wagon master called a halt for the night. After their earlier obstinacy, the oxen seemed to take pity on her and hadn’t balked once on the trail.

At their campsite, the covered wagons were arranged in a circle, and the area inside quickly became a hive of activity and movement. Mattie had to take special care to avoid being trampled by a nervous animal. Or getting in someone’s way. Observing the chaos, she noted that everybody seemed to know what to do.

Except her and Adela.

She didn’t want to stand out as a novice, but belatedly realized she had no idea how to unhitch the oxen. Or what to do with them once they were free of the wagon.

She wasn’t living up to the promise she’d made to Miles Carpenter.

Glancing around, she spotted Josiah. He was occupied with a group of horses, so there would be no help from that quarter.

She’d have to do this on her own. Somehow.

Circumspectly, she watched the other drivers’ actions in order to imitate them. As she moved toward her oxen, she noticed Adela still sat on the bench seat, where she’d insisted on riding all afternoon, despite the uncomfortable jostling as the covered wagon bounced over the rough trail.

“Are you going to get down?”

Tilting her parasol to shade her eyes from the slanting rays of the setting sun, she shook her head. “No. This is the only place to sit.”

Mattie reached for the metal pin securing the nearest oxen’s neck thingamabob to the wooden doodad, which connected him to a second animal. “You don’t need a place to sit right now. You need to get busy starting a fire and cooking supper.” She abandoned her task for a moment to give her sister her full attention. “I can’t do everything myself, Adela. And since I’m taking over the jobs Papa would have handled, it’s up to you to see to the chores around camp that you and I originally planned to share.”

“But I don’t know how to cook,” the younger girl protested. “I don’t even know how to start a fire.”

“You’ll learn.” She wasn’t unsympathetic toward Adela’s plight, but coddling the younger girl would set an unwise precedent. “There’s some wood in that box strapped to the side of the wagon, and the matches are in Papa’s copper tin.”

But still, her sister sat motionless.

“The chores aren’t going to do themselves, and you’re wasting daylight,” Mattie prodded. “Things will be even more difficult to do in the dark.”

Snapping her parasol closed, Adela tossed it into the wagon and clambered down from the high seat.

Mattie breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

“Save your thanks until we see if I can make anything edible,” the younger girl advised.

* * *

After constructing a temporary enclosure to house his horses for the night, Josiah headed toward the circle of wagons. Slipping between the tailgate of one and the tongue of another, he entered the ring and recognized Matt and his sister at the nearest campfire.

The boy squatted, feeding a piece of wood into the crackling flames, while Adela stirred a boiling pot.

“Evening,” Josiah greeted.

Adela turned toward him, the action sending her skirt swinging into the fire.

“Watch out!” Josiah reached forward, intent on pulling her out of harm’s way. But it was too late. The flames ignited the edge of the material.

A series of shrieks filled the air, and the girl’s frantic movements hindered Josiah’s attempts to extinguish the fire by smothering it.

Grabbing a large pan from the tailgate, Matt yanked the cover off the water barrel and filled the container, then tossed the water over his sister’s burning skirts, dousing the flames. “It’s out.”

Silence fell as Adela finally stopped screaming.

Several people had hurried over to see what all the commotion was about, but with the danger now past, they returned to their own campfires.

Everyone except Josiah’s brother and sister-in-law.

Rebecca’s eyebrows knit in concern. “Are you all right?”

Adela looked down at herself. “My dress! It’s ruined.” No pain showed in her expression.

Was that because she was unharmed? Or was she in a state of shock?

Matt grabbed his sister and gave her a slight shake. “Never mind about your dress!” Fear raised his voice an octave higher than normal. “Are you burned?” Not waiting for a response, he lifted the sodden, fire-damaged edge of her skirt, wincing at what he saw. “You already have blisters forming.”

A moan slipped past Adela’s lips as the pain finally registered. “It hurts.”

Elias knelt for a quick look. “I have some salve that will help. I’ll go get it.” He stood and hurried away.

Rebecca took Adela by the arm. “Let me help you into the wagon. I’m sure you’d prefer some privacy while Elias tends to your injury.”

By the time the two women disappeared between the canvas flaps, Elias had returned, and he followed them inside.

Anxiety crossed Matt’s face.

“Don’t worry. My brother’s a doctor. Adela’s in good hands.”

“It’s my fault she got hurt. She’s never cooked over an open fire before, but I made her do it.” Moving toward the pot suspended above the flames, he lifted the spoon.

“She’s not used to this kind of life, but she’ll adapt.”

Matt tipped the spoon, and a large blob plopped back into the pot. “I guess it’s pretty obvious all of this is new to us.”

“Well, her attire was a bit of a clue.” The picture Adela Prescott had made perched on the bench seat, like a queen on her throne, still had Josiah shaking his head.

Though sensibly dressed, in contrast, it was clear Matt was just as much a greenhorn as his sister. But Josiah wouldn’t hurt the boy’s pride by mentioning it.

Yesterday, he’d wondered if the kid was hiding something. Today, he’d gotten his answer. Matt was trying to disguise the fact that he didn’t know how to handle life on the trail.

But he was smart—observing others to learn the skills he lacked—and had successfully unhitched the oxen on his own and herded them to the area where the other animals grazed.

Now he stirred the contents of the pot, poking at the charred chunks floating in a thick, mud-colored liquid.

It wasn’t recognizable as food—at least not to Josiah. “What’s that supposed to be?”

“I’m not sure. It’s Adela’s first attempt at cooking. We had servants back in St. Louis, and she never learned to prepare meals.”

“She’ll get the hang of it once she’s had a bit more experience.” Although, right now, it was a toss-up whether she would improve enough to produce edible meals before the Prescotts starved.

“Well, this is definitely past saving.” Matt dropped the spoon, and the wooden handle landed against the edge of the pot with a dull thud.

“What’s past saving?” Rebecca questioned as she climbed down from the covered wagon, followed by her husband and his patient.

“In all the excitement, their dinner was ruined,” Josiah excused, seeing no need to mention the food had been inedible even before it was scorched.

Eyeing the contents of the pot, Rebecca’s eyebrows arched, but she didn’t challenge his claim. “I left a delicious stew simmering over the fire, and there’s enough to share.”

“That’s very kind,” Matt began. “But we couldn’t—”

“We’d love to join you,” his sister cut across him.

His cheeks reddened. “Adela, we can’t impose on the Dawsons.”

“It’s not an imposition,” Rebecca assured. “It will give us a chance to get better acquainted.”

A moment of silent communication passed between the siblings, but finally Matt turned away from his sister’s pleading eyes and nodded his assent. “Thank you for your kind offer, Mrs. Dawson. We appreciate it.”

“Please, call me Rebecca,” she invited. “Come on over whenever you’re ready.”

Josiah walked with Elias and Rebecca back to their covered wagon. By the time Matt and Adela arrived, Rebecca had five bowls of mouth-watering stew dished up.

Everyone took seats around the campfire. Elias said grace, and they dug in.

Matt offered Rebecca a compliment on her cooking.

Adela added her agreement with an appreciative smile. A moment later, the happy expression slipped from her face. “I’ll never be able to make anything half as good as this.”

“Of course, you will,” Rebecca encouraged her. “It simply takes a little practice.”

Adela looked unconvinced, but she didn’t argue, and the conversation turned to other topics.

“Did you get your horses bedded down for the night?” Elias questioned.

Josiah nodded. “One of the mares is a bit skittish with so many other animals around, but Miles asked me to take first watch, so I’ll be able to keep an eye on her and make sure she settles.”

Elias turned to the Prescotts to explain, “Josiah plans to start a ranch and has a string of horses he’s taking to Oregon Country.”

“They’re only green broke and have a tendency to spook at unfamiliar noises,” Josiah elaborated. “But they come from hardy stock and will make good saddle horses with a little more training.”

Elias clapped his hand on Josiah’s shoulder. “He’s already got them eating out of the palm of his hand, just like the high-strung bloodstock he worked with outside Nashville.”

Josiah didn’t want to be reminded of the past, and all he’d left behind in Tennessee.

He was determined to focus on the future, instead. “Thoroughbred racers are best left in the East. Practical mounts are what’s needed out west.”

“My baby brother has a special knack with animals. Like your oxen. They followed him like great big puppy dogs this afternoon. And I bet they were much better behaved for you afterward, too.”

Matt’s head bobbed up and down. “It’s a handy skill to have.”

“It’s a way to earn a living,” Josiah conceded. “But not like Elias, here, who can use his medical skills to help people. Now, that’s a talent in short supply in Oregon Country.”

Rebecca nodded. “My parents and sister moved out to the Willamette Valley two years ago, and they arranged a doctoring job for him in Silver Springs.” She beamed with pride at her husband. “The townspeople are building a clinic and house for us that should be completed by the time we arrive.”

Finished with his stew, Josiah set the bowl aside. “While the rest of us will have to scramble to put up some sort of makeshift shelter before winter sets in.”

“Being a doctor does have some perks,” Elias allowed.

Just then, a small dark-haired boy raced past their campfire. He giggled in glee as if playing a game, while his frazzled mother, the preacher’s wife, chased after him.

“Henry Linton, slow down,” she called out. “And watch where you’re going!”

But the little boy paid her no heed. He was still going full speed when he reached his father, a man in his late twenties with a neatly trimmed beard.

The preacher snagged his young son and swung him up into his arms to prevent Henry from barreling over his little sister, who was sitting on the ground playing with a doll. “Whoa there, young man. I think you and I need to have a talk about minding your mama. And having a care around Lizzie.” He sat down with the boy on his lap and spoke in low tones, his expression stern.

Tessa Linton brushed a straggling lock of red hair off her forehead. “I apologize for my son’s behavior. He’s been dashing around all day. I expected that he’d have tuckered himself out by now. I’m certainly worn-out from running after him.”

“Then you deserve a rest.” Rebecca glanced toward the dark-haired preacher. “It looks like David has things well in hand.”

“For the moment, at least.” Tessa’s expression was wearily resigned, but it was edged with affection. “I’d best take advantage of the calm while it lasts.” She moved toward her own campfire and sat down next to her husband.

“What adorable children.” A soft smile tugged at Adela’s lips as she watched the Lintons, her opinion plainly unaffected by the boy’s misbehaving.

The corner of Elias’s mouth curled up in a lopsided grin, then he picked up the thread of their interrupted conversation. “What are your plans for when you reach Oregon, Matt?”

“We have an aunt and uncle in Oregon City and will stay with them to start.”

Adela nodded and her eyes lit up. “Our relatives own an elegant hotel. The dining room’s paneled in solid mahogany, and the lobby has a large crystal chandelier ordered from New York. Although I’ve never seen it, I imagine it’s magnificent.”

“It certainly sounds lovely,” Rebecca acknowledged. “So, you’ll be living in the hotel, then?”

“Oh, no. Uncle Ephraim has a grand two-story house a few blocks from the hotel.” Adela twirled a lock of dark hair around her finger. “The drawing room is big enough for social gatherings, and the dining table can seat a party of twelve.”

“You’re looking forward to a lifestyle similar to what you had back in Saint Louis.” Josiah didn’t bother to phase it as a question since the answer was obvious.

Adela immediately concurred. “Of course. There will be entertainment and music, and we’ll have a string of handsome beaus—”

“We?” Rebecca’s brow pleated in puzzlement.

“Oh! I meant me. And the friends I’m sure to make,” Adela hastily clarified, with an overly bright smile.

Matt spooned the last few bites of stew into his mouth as if suddenly in a hurry. “It’s getting late. Adela and I better head back to our wagon.” He placed his empty bowl in Rebecca’s outstretched hand. “Thank you for a delicious meal, Mrs. Dawson—Rebecca,” he quickly corrected.

“You’re welcome,” Rebecca replied with a smile, then moved to collect Adela’s bowl and stack it with the other one. “Why don’t I come by in the morning to give you some pointers on how to prepare breakfast?”

Adela’s mouth dropped open at the words. “I have to make breakfast, too?”

“Certainly. Our men need food to fuel them through the long day of travel and work. But don’t worry. I’ll show you how easy it is.”

Adela offered a weak smile, clearly not looking forward to another cooking attempt so soon after tonight’s disaster. “Thank you.”

Josiah’s eyes followed the Prescott siblings as they crossed to their own dying campfire, and yesterday’s conversation with Miles replayed in his mind. The wagon master had expressed concern that the Prescotts might prove a burden to others.

To ensure that didn’t become an issue, Matt and his sister had to be self-sufficient. Though it wouldn’t happen overnight, a little guidance might speed up the process.

Whatever you did for the least of My brothers, you did for Me.

If he accompanied Rebecca on her visit in the morning, he could offer his assistance should Matt encounter any problems rounding up his oxen or hitching them to the covered wagon.

* * *

Dusk had fallen, and a cold wind blew into the camp, cutting through the thin fabric of Mattie’s cotton shirt. But worse than the chill in the air was the creeping uncertainty she couldn’t shake. Had she and Adela revealed too much to the Dawson family?

Glancing back, she found Josiah’s gaze on her and quickly turned away to build up the fire.

A yip sounded in the distance.

Adela jumped and peered into the gathering darkness. “What was that?”

“I’m not sure.” It wasn’t a sound she’d ever heard before.

Several answering cries followed, seeming much closer than the first.

“Are they going to attack us?”

It would only add to Adela’s fright if Mattie admitted to her own. “I’m sure they won’t come near this many people. And the guards will keep them away from the livestock. You should try to get some sleep. We have to be up early in the morning.”

“I don’t think I can sleep.”

“You’ll be safe in the wagon.”

Once Adela was gone, Mattie felt completely defenseless. Though the younger girl’s presence wasn’t any sort of protection, concern for her had served to keep the worst of Mattie’s fears at bay.

Now, they rushed in to attack without mercy, setting her heart pounding.

She shivered, and though it was only partly due to the dropping temperature, she pulled on her father’s coat. Inhaling his familiar cologne and the smell of the peppermint candies, which he’d been so fond of, made her feel he was still with her in some small way.

Would he disapprove of what she was doing? Or would he understand her reasons for persisting on this journey?

Out here, shifting shadows dominated, with only the stars to light the landscape. Though they appeared to shine brighter without the illumination from houses and businesses, the night conversely seemed darker, hiding unknown dangers from sight.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for You are with me.

She took courage from the remembered verse, determined to be strong for her sister.

Still, the responsibility weighed heavily on her. Daunting days and weeks loomed ahead. And she didn’t have anyone to share her fears and doubts with.

Her deception stood as a barrier between her and others.

Chapter Three

It seemed to Mattie that she’d barely slept when the camp was roused early the next morning. Exiting the wagon, she noted there was nothing more than a faint lightening of the sky over the distant horizon to herald the new day. But with animals in need of tending and a wagon to pack up before the call to move out, she dared not delay.

Rebecca arrived at the Prescotts’ campfire as promised to help Adela prepare the morning meal. Unfortunately, she wasn’t alone—Josiah had accompanied her.

His presence sounded alarm bells in Mattie’s head. What reason did he have to be here? She could only speculate—and none of the possibilities flooding her mind brought any reassurance.

“I should see to the oxen,” she said to no one in particular.

“Go ahead,” Rebecca replied, waving Mattie on her way. “Adela and I will be fine here while you’re gone. And we’ll have food waiting for your return.”

Mattie had taken only two steps when Josiah appeared at her side and kept pace with her. She opened her mouth, though she wasn’t sure what she intended to say to him.

He spoke before she could form any words. “I’ll walk with you. I need to take care of my own animals.”

Despite his perfectly reasonable explanation, she fretted over his motives for joining her. Was it truly as he’d claimed? Or something else, as yet unrevealed?

He didn’t say anything more before they parted ways to see to their own chores.

When Mattie bent to her task, she felt a curious prickling sensation at the back of her neck, as if she was being watched. Glancing up, she found Josiah looking in her direction. She ducked her head, hiding her face beneath the shadow of her hat.

There was no mistaking the fact that he’d shown a marked interest in her over the past two days. The question was, why? What was his true purpose? It likely didn’t bode well for her, whatever it might be.

Hurrying through the job, she finished up before Josiah and gladly left him behind. Once out from under his worrying silent regard, she breathed a sigh of relief.

She returned to the circle of covered wagons and found Adela alone at the campfire, stirring a skillet of scrambled eggs and bacon, Josiah’s sister-in-law nowhere in sight. “Where’s Rebecca?”

Adela pushed a lock of hair off her forehead as she glanced up. “She went back to her own wagon to cook breakfast for her family. But don’t worry, she showed me what to do and gave me strict instructions to stir the eggs so they wouldn’t burn. I haven’t stopped for even a second.”

While Mattie doubted constant stirring was precisely what the other woman had meant, she didn’t say as much to her sister. She was simply glad to see Adela had been receptive to the cooking lesson. It was clearly helping already.

“It certainly smells good. Let’s find out how it tastes.” Mattie wrapped a towel around the handle of the skillet and lifted it from the fire.

Two tin plates sat waiting on an overturned crate that had been set up to serve as a table of sorts. After spooning out equal portions, she took a bite and hummed in approval. “Do you think you can make this on your own tomorrow?”

The younger girl worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “I can try.” But her tone lacked confidence.

That was a worry for another time, however. Mattie had more immediate concerns, such as the myriad obstacles she would face during her first full day on the trail. Not the least of which was maintaining her guise as a male.

The sky grew lighter as they ate, giving Mattie a better view of the activity going on around the wagon circle. Small clusters of men stood at various campfires, nursing mugs of steaming coffee. Women tended to sleepy-eyed children who grumped over being roused at such an early hour. The little ones would undoubtedly be full of boundless energy as soon as the group got under way again, a short time from now.

There was no opportunity to enjoy a leisurely breakfast, and Mattie urged her sister to hurry after noticing her taking small, measured nibbles the way their governess had taught them. The younger girl wrinkled her nose and muttered about behaving akin to a heathen, but thankfully did as Mattie requested.

Once the meal was finished, Adela handled the cleanup and packed everything back into the wagon while Mattie retrieved the oxen. Upon her return, she was brought up short by the sight of Josiah, standing with his back to her, just a few feet from her wagon.

On the surface, his presence seemed perfectly innocent. Nothing more than a man pausing for a moment of quiet reflection as he enjoyed a mug of coffee before taking on the day ahead.

But she couldn’t help suspecting him of deliberately loitering nearby.

She quickly pushed the troubling thought aside. She’d drive herself quite mad searching his every action for hidden meaning. And she needed her wits about her.

Josiah glanced over his shoulder and spotted her, then turned and moved closer. Patting the lead oxen, he subtly urged it in the right direction. “I’m happy to help, if you need a hand.”

“Thanks, but I can handle it.” She wanted to prove—no, she needed to prove that she could do it on her own.

Wordlessly accepting her refusal, he stepped back and gave her some space to work. But he didn’t leave.

She preferred to do this without an audience and attempted to prod him on his way. “Shouldn’t you be getting your horses ready?”

“I have plenty of time yet. It won’t take long.” He finished his coffee, then tossed out the dregs.

But still, he remained.

Fortunately, the oxen didn’t give her any difficulty as she worked to hitch them to the wagon.

Josiah crossed his arms over his chest, a slight grin stretching the corners of his mouth. “I see the oxen are behaving for you today.”

“I was worried they might turn stubborn again after stopping for so long overnight, the way they did yesterday before the ferry crossing,” she admitted aloud, now that possibility hadn’t come to pass.

“You’ll be an old hand at this in no time,” he predicted.

That was her hope.

Once the team was in position, it was a simple matter to reverse the process of the previous night.

Now, if only the rest of the day would prove as trouble-free.

* * *

Once out on the trail, Josiah stuck close to the line of covered wagons despite the fact that his horses could travel at a much faster pace than the slow-moving oxen teams.

He kept an unobtrusive eye on the Prescotts. Although Matt had done all right so far, Josiah wasn’t quite ready to leave the kid completely on his own. This was a foreign environment to the boy and his sister. One filled with obstacles that could easily spell injury or worse for the unwary.

Miles from the nearest town or settlement, their group had nobody to depend upon other than one another. It was only right that Josiah should watch out for all his fellow travelers and, even more so, for a pair of siblings without any other family to back them.

His eyes swept along the line of wagons stretched out a goodly distance across the prairie, cutting a swath through the tall grasses. There wasn’t a tree in sight. Or anything else that cast a shadow big enough to offer a moment’s relief from the rays of the sun, climbing steadily higher in the sky. The day had turned warm already, and it would grow even hotter by the time the sun reached its zenith.

Josiah returned his gaze to the Prescotts’ covered wagon, near the end of the line. Doubtless, neither Matt nor his sister were used to spending hours out of doors with little protection from the unrelenting elements. But Matt trekked gamely ahead without complaint.

His sister had again taken up a position atop the wagon seat, parasol in hand. Tugging free the lace-edged handkerchief tucked at her wrist, she placed the material over her nose and mouth and daintily coughed into it. “Isn’t there anything you can do about this dust, Mattie?”

“Nope.” Matt reached under his hat brim and wiped a trickle of moisture from his temple, then adjusted the hat to shield his eyes from the glare of sunlight reflecting off the pale canvas wagon bonnets in front of him. “But if you get down and walk you’ll stay out of the worst of the dust cloud.”

Adela flapped her handkerchief in front of her face, but she wasn’t waving it as a white flag in surrender. “Walking in this heat would be even more miserable.”

“The other women clearly don’t think so,” Matt pointed out.

“All the same, I’ll stay here.”

“Suit yourself.”

Adela lapsed into silence. A few minutes later, her expression suddenly brightened when she sighted a small girl walking alongside their covered wagon. “Hello again,” she greeted the child. “I remember you from yesterday. I’m Adela.”

The little girl trailed her hand through the high grasses as she moved forward. “’ello, Dela.”

Adela’s smile stretched wider at the shortened version of her name. “And this is Mattie.” She indicated her brother with a flutter of her handkerchief.

“Matt,” he interposed, plainly not liking his sister’s nickname. Perhaps he thought it made him sound like a child rather than a man.

“’ello, Matt.” The child’s eyes shifted from the boy back to his sister, her little face tilted upward as she focused on Adela perched high above her on the wagon seat.

But she wasn’t paying proper attention to how close she was getting to the wagon wheels, which were taller than she was. And neither Matt nor Adela seemed to comprehend the deadly hazard the wagon presented to the little girl.

Josiah was all too aware of the danger, however. Moving quickly, he scooped up the child and settled her in front of him on the saddle.

She tipped her head back and looked at him with big, surprised eyes. Though her name escaped him at the moment, he recognized her as one of the Bakers’ brood. She was a miniature copy of her mama, unlike the rest of her siblings who took after their father in coloring. A large heavyset man, George Baker had black hair and a thick beard that reached halfway down his shirtfront.

Urging his horses to a faster pace, Josiah traveled up the line to reach her family’s covered wagon. After depositing her next to her mother, he cautioned Edith Baker to keep a closer watch on her child. The woman expressed effusive gratitude, but he waved it off and led his string of horses back down the line.

As he neared the Prescotts’ wagon, Matt called out to him.

Reining in next to the kid, Josiah matched his horse’s pace to Matt’s on foot. From his greater height atop his mount, he couldn’t see much of the boy’s expression, blocked as it was by the wide brim of his hat.

But Matt’s stiff posture telegraphed his discontent. “Why did you whisk that child away? You acted as if you feared we might taint her somehow.”

“It was nothing against you,” he refuted, stunned at the conclusion the kid had drawn from his actions. “I was simply trying to keep her safe.”

“Safe from what? I don’t understand.” Though Matt tipped his head up toward Josiah, half his face remained in shadow.

“A fully loaded wagon is hard to stop, and if that child had ventured too close to the wheels, she would’ve been run over and crushed.”

Adela gasped, her face contorting into a mask of horror. “Dear God, no.” She leaned to the side in an attempt to see down the line of wagons in front of her, but the canvas cover immediately ahead blocked her view.

“She’s safely back with her mother now,” Josiah reassured her. “But that type of accident’s all too common out here on the trail.”

“How do you know that?” Matt questioned. “Have you completed this trip before?”

“No, but when Rebecca’s family made the journey two years ago, her sister wrote dozens of letters about the experience. Rebecca shared several of them with me.” They had given him a firsthand account of the many perils another group of travelers had encountered along the trail. “Most people have no idea what they’re in for. But they soon learn. Just as you will.”

Matt ducked his head and his face disappeared completely beneath the brim of his hat. “Well, thank you for what you did. I’d never forgive myself if my ignorance was the cause of a child’s death.” Strong emotion roughened his voice.

Josiah shifted in the saddle. “No harm done this time. And now you’ll know to be careful in the future.”

Matt bobbed his head and didn’t say anything more.

With their conversation at an end, Josiah guided his string of horses a ways from the dust kicked up by the oxen teams and covered wagons.

The remainder of the morning passed uneventfully. At midday, Miles called the wagon train to a halt, allowing people the opportunity to eat a cold meal while the animals took a short rest.

And after the noon stop, Adela opted to walk instead of continuing to ride in the wagon. Though her parasol remained very much in evidence, it drew fewer stares and sniggers than it had the day before—most likely because she’d volunteered to help keep an eye on the smaller children now that she knew about the potential dangers.

Several little ones surrounded her as she strolled along at the plodding pace set by the oxen. She led one toddler by the hand, and a handful of other children trailed behind while she regaled the group with tales of daring adventure. Judging by her expression, Adela plainly found as much enjoyment in the pastime as the youngsters did.

Which served as proof that both she and her brother had begun to adjust to trail life. Admittedly, Adela at a significantly slower rate than Matt. But it was progress.

There was hope for the Prescotts yet.

* * *

The fourth night on the trail, Mattie perched on a slight rise overlooking their campsite. She was in the company of Josiah—though not by her choice. Miles Carpenter had put them together for guard duty.

She suspected Josiah might have had something to do with their pairing. But, despite that, there was no denying his presence calmed the worst of her fears about leaving the safety of the wagon circle.

Unfortunately, after settling at their post he’d seemed bent on passing the time in conversation.

The need to watch her every word made silence easier, but imprudent, as Adela had pointed out a few days ago.

Since staying mute wasn’t the wisest course, she might as well make the most of this opportunity to learn all she could, given that Josiah was more knowledgeable about life on the trail. Besides, if she was the one directing the discussion, she could keep the focus away from thorny areas, such as “Matt’s” past.

Her fingers flexed around the barrel of her father’s rifle. “I know we’re guarding the wagons and livestock.” That much was obvious even to her. “But what exactly are we guarding against?” She hoped the darkness hid the flush that heated her cheeks at voicing a question that so starkly revealed her ignorance.

“Coyotes and other critters. They might go after the smaller animals, or search for scraps of food around the campfires. Also, sounds travel far out here, and any sudden noise could spook the livestock and make them bolt. If they do, someone needs to be close by to round up the animals before they get too far.” He tilted his head back and glanced overhead. “The sky looks clear tonight, but a sudden thunderstorm could cause a stampede if we’re caught unawares. Trouble’s more easily averted when you see it coming.”

She fiddled with the bottom button on her father’s coat. “Just out of curiosity, in any of those letters did Rebecca’s sister write about a catastrophe befalling the group because somebody performed poorly during guard duty?”

Josiah turned his head, his gaze coming to rest on her again. “She didn’t mention it. Are you worried something like that might happen?”

Her hand curled into a fist, and the button she’d forgotten she was clenching popped off. She hastily stuffed it into her coat pocket. “Well, it’s possible, isn’t it?”

“I suppose. But don’t brood overmuch about it. As long as we keep our eyes open, it’s a simple enough job. Most nights the most difficult task you’ll face is ensuring you don’t nod off.” Josiah’s teeth flashed white in the darkness. “But talking helps with that. Plus, wild animals are more likely to keep their distance if they hear voices.”

“That’s good to know.”

A few hours later, Mattie turned up her coat collar to ward off the chill in the air and tucked her chin beneath the heavy material. Scanning the darkened landscape, she kept a lookout for any signs of trouble. All was quiet in the camp as the crescent moon tracked across the sky toward midnight.

Once again, she glanced toward the covered wagon where Adela slumbered. At least, Mattie prayed her sister wasn’t lying awake, too scared to sleep. The younger girl had begged not to be left alone. But there wasn’t any other choice. Every able-bodied man was expected to take a turn at guard duty. And that included “Matt.” But Mattie had departed with the promise that she would watch over Adela from her guard post.

Suddenly catching movement at the edge of her field of vision, she shifted her gaze. A shadow detached itself from the others near the livestock enclosures. Were her eyes playing tricks on her? She didn’t want to seem an alarmist, spooking at harmless shadows.

But her gut told her she wasn’t wrong. “I think there’s someone down by the horses.”

Josiah focused his attention where she’d indicated. “I see him. No, wait, there are two of them.”

Though her eyes strained for a better view, it was impossible. “I can’t make out who they are. But what reason would anyone have for being near the horses in the middle of the night?”

“No good reason that I can think of. Let’s go check it out.” He pushed to his feet. “We’ll approach them quietly until we get close enough to identify them. Best to be cautious when we don’t know the lay of the land. If they’re strangers up to no good, I can guarantee they’re armed.”

Panic spread through Mattie at his words, but she fought against it. Others were counting on her to do a job. Innocent people, sleeping blissfully unaware of any trouble that might be visited upon them. And if Mattie couldn’t handle it, then Adela was correct that they should never have begun this journey after their father was gone.

Mattie refused to accept her decision was a mistake. It couldn’t be. Not when any other choice would have placed her and her sister in a worse situation.

This moment was one of many tests she would face. But she had faith that the Lord would help her through it. And all the others to come.

With that conviction shoring up her shaky courage, she followed Josiah’s lead and started down the hill.

She cradled her father’s rifle gingerly in her arms, praying she wouldn’t need to use it. She’d never fired any type of gun in her life. She had only brought the rifle with her because showing up for guard duty unarmed would have raised questions. But she was more likely to shoot herself in the foot by accident than anything else.

Best not to think about that—though the thoughts which then rushed in to fill her mind weren’t any more comforting.

There was nowhere to hide on the vast open prairie, no convenient boulders or shrubs to offer concealment, as she and Josiah worked their way toward the livestock enclosure. All it would take was one of the men down below glancing in their direction, and she and Josiah could find themselves in the middle of a gunfight.

Her mouth ran dry and her heart pounded behind her ribs. Please, Lord, let there be a perfectly innocent explanation for those two men. Though their furtive movements unquestionably roused suspicion.

As she drew closer, their purpose became evident. They were tying ropes around the necks of several horses.

And she could now confirm that neither man was a member of their wagon train. “I don’t recognize them.” She kept her voice low, ensuring it carried no farther than Josiah.

“Horse thieves.” Though the words were a bare whisper, his anger clearly bled through.

“What should we do?” she questioned in a quiet murmur.

“We have the element of surprise and can use that to our advantage. We’ll—” The rest of his words were drowned out by a camp dog’s barking.

“What’s that mutt yapping about?” one of the thieves growled as he glanced around. A second later, he spotted Mattie and Josiah. “Someone’s coming!”

His partner fired a shot, the sound cracking through the still night air.

Though conscious of Josiah ducking next to her, Mattie stood frozen in place. But in the next moment, her arm was grabbed as Josiah pulled her down to the ground with him.

“Hold your fire,” he commanded. “I don’t want to risk hitting one of the horses.”

“You half-wit!” the first thief growled. “Now the whole camp knows we’re here! Let’s get out of here.” He tried to grasp the ropes.

But the loud noise of the gunshot had unnerved the horses. They danced out of reach, thwarting his efforts. He glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the wagon circle, where several men were emerging with lanterns in hand.

Muttering a curse, he abandoned all attempts to regain control of the skittish animals. “Forget the horses. I’m not sticking around to be caught and hanged!”

He beat a hasty retreat, his partner in crime hot on his heels.

Josiah and Mattie climbed to their feet. After quickly assessing that neither of them had been injured, Josiah moved toward his horses.

“Whoa, easy.” His tone soft and gentle, he climbed between the ropes forming the temporary enclosure.

But calming a half dozen horses at once was more than any one man could handle on his own, and Josiah’s animals were in danger of breaking through the flimsy barrier.

Here at last was a way Mattie could be useful. She had plenty of experience with horses—unlike most other aspects of trail life.

Despite her worry for the animals and Josiah, her heart felt lighter as she stepped forward to lend him a hand.

* * *

Josiah cast a sidelong glance at Matt as the boy waded into the mass of milling horseflesh. It took less than a handful of seconds to determine that this was one area where the kid could hold his own. He plainly knew how to navigate around unsettled horses.

While showing proper caution and respect for their size and strength, he displayed no signs of hesitation or unease. Though one wrong move could see him kicked or even trampled.

As Matt advanced toward the head of one horse, he spoke in low, soothing tones. Fuzzy ears cocked in response. Reaching for the rope encircling the horse’s neck, he held the animal in place and stroked her side. The chestnut mare visibly calmed under his gentle ministrations.

The instinctive fear Josiah had felt over Matt’s safety vanished, and he wordlessly accepted the boy’s assistance.

More men started to arrive then, but they were clearly made wary by the other horses’ rolling eyes and stomping hooves, and none braved the space inside the makeshift corral.

“What happened?” the wagon master demanded, breathing heavily after his dash from the wagon circle. “Who fired that shot?”

Matt remained silent, leaving it to Josiah to explain. He did so in a few succinct words and jerked his head toward the two retreating figures, now barely discernible in the darkness.

“Will they come back and try again?” nineteen-year-old Frank Malone asked, as he watched the would-be thieves hightailing it across the prairie.

“It’s unlikely,” Jed Smith volunteered. “They’d be fools to try anything else tonight, with the entire camp on alert.”

Frank’s younger brother, Cody, cleared his throat, his blond peach fuzz gleaming in the lantern light. “Shouldn’t we go after them? Form a posse or something?”

“There’s no need,” Elias countered. “They didn’t take any of the horses. Besides, they have too much of a head start, and tracking is near impossible at night.”

Several men voiced their agreement.

Miles Carpenter moved closer to the rope fence encircling the horses. “Good work running off those thieves, Josiah.”

“I didn’t do it alone. Matt had a hand in it. In fact, he’s the one who first spotted them.” He flicked a quick glance toward Miles.

The news plainly caught the wagon master by surprise, but he quickly recovered. “Job well done, Matt.”

The kid was practically hidden behind the large bulk of one horse. Almost as if he would’ve preferred that no one took any notice of him.

He kept his head down as he replied, “Thanks.”

Miles held his lantern aloft to read the face of his pocket watch. “It’s almost midnight. Since you men assigned to the second watch are already here, we may as well change the guards now.” No one uttered a protest, and he continued, raising his voice to be heard by the small crowd that had gathered. “The rest of you folks head on back to the wagons and get some sleep.”

The group dispersed and soon only Josiah and Matt remained, still tending to the horses.

Josiah removed a hastily tied rope from around one horse’s neck. “I’m grateful to you for spotting the thieves when you did, Matt. If not for your vigilance, they might have succeeded in stealing the horses before we could stop them.” And that would have meant his livelihood. All his plans for starting a ranch in Oregon Country hinged on these horses. He patted the neck of the closest one. “Then you helped keep the animals from bolting. That puts me in your debt twice over.”

The kid’s back remained turned toward Josiah as he answered. “You’ve helped me a time or two. So, why don’t we call it even?”

“Fair enough.” Judging the horses sufficiently calmed, Josiah exited the enclosure, but moved no farther. “You should head back to the wagon circle.”

“Aren’t you coming?”

“No. I’m going to bed down here for what’s left of the night.” This patch of dirt was just as comfortable as the spot where he’d intended to sleep near the covered wagons.

“Do you expect more trouble?” Though darkness masked Matt’s expression, a hint of worry sounded in his voice.

Josiah shook his head. “But I’ll rest easier if I stay close.”

“Well, then, good night.”

“See you in the morning,” Josiah returned.

The boy’s nod seemed stiff as he walked away.

Watching his retreating back, Josiah contemplated the puzzle that was Matt Prescott. Just when he thought he had the kid figured out, Matt did something to surprise him.

But perhaps the boy’s expertise with horses wasn’t so unexpected. After all, back in Tennessee Josiah had encountered his fair share of well-to-do gentlemen who were accomplished horsemen, though sadly inept in other respects.

Several of them had been willfully ignorant besides, with no desire to learn. That didn’t appear to be the case with Matt, however. Was it because he had no alternative but to adapt to a different life than the one he’d been raised to lead?

What was his story? The kid was strangely close-mouthed about himself.

Leaving Josiah to draw his own conclusions. How close those were to the actual truth, he could only guess.

Chapter Four

The wind gusted across the prairie as Mattie staked the oxen out at the chosen night campsite more than a week later. Clapping a hand to her hat, she jammed it farther down on her head to prevent it blowing away.

Once the oxen were settled, she started back toward the wagon circle, passing the horse enclosure on her way. One mare stepped forward, her head stretched over the rope fence, seeking attention.

Josiah had ridden out on one of his other horses, as was his habit after the group made camp. He spent a good bit of time each day working with the green-broke horses on a rotating basis, furthering their training.

Mattie paused to stroke the mare’s soft nose, then saw the horse was favoring one leg, not putting any weight on it. She couldn’t see Josiah ignoring something like this—he cared too much about his animals to ever neglect one of them. The problem must have escaped his notice before he departed.

While she could wait and bring it to his attention upon his return, she could just as easily take a look at it herself.

Despite her words to Josiah several days ago, she didn’t consider them even. She’d simply spotted the thieves a few moments before they would have caught Josiah’s eye anyway. The balance was still tipped against her, and the fact that she owed him made her leery. A debt could be used to ruin a person, as she’d learned back in Saint Louis.

She never again wanted to be trapped in a position where she was beholden to anyone for anything. And seeing to Josiah’s horse right now would help serve as repayment, at least in part.

Her decision made, she ducked under the rope and moved to the mare’s side. Running a hand down the leg, Mattie didn’t find any signs of injury and lifted the hoof to examine it.

She discovered a rock lodged in the underside and worked to remove it. “You poor baby. Little wonder you didn’t want to stand on this hoof.”

Once the stone popped free, she released the mare’s hoof and straightened. The sound of approaching hoofbeats reached her ears, and she turned to see Josiah atop his mount.

Reining to a stop, he slid to the ground and stared at Mattie’s position inside the fence with his horses.

She shifted nervously under his regard and rushed to explain. “I was just removing this rock from her hoof.” She kicked the offending object out of the corral.

“I know. I saw what you were doing.”

Her palms grew moist, and she wiped them against her pant legs. “Then why are you looking at me as if I’m an undiscovered species of bug you’ve pinned to a board in order to study?”

The corner of his mouth turned up in a crooked smile. “Perhaps you are a previously unknown species, at that. You’re certainly not what I expected.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, then wondered whether she truly wanted to hear his unvarnished opinion of her—or rather him? Was she prepared for whatever Josiah might say? Probably not. But it was too late for her to call back the question.

“Well, it’s been my experience that most high-society gents leave the dirty work to others. Take Hardwick, for example. While he’s arguably a competent rider, I have yet to witness him caring for his own mount. Odds are, he’s never even considered removing a rock from a horse’s hoof, beyond ordering someone else to see to it. But you? You plainly have the know-how. I find that rather unusual.”

If he thought it unexpected in a male, he wouldn’t imagine for even an instant that a gently bred lady possessed such skills. Thus, she could be relatively certain he would never deduce her true identify. That was a relief. But he still seemed to be waiting for an explanation, and she had no idea what to say.

She supposed she could have told him that after her mother’s passing the stables had become her refuge when she needed to escape the oppressive atmosphere of mourning inside the house. Surrounded by the horses, she’d found a measure of peace. And the long hours spent in the barn meant she knew the grooms’ and stable hands’ jobs almost as well as they did.

But she only said, “A little work’s never bothered me. I like knowing I can take care of myself without the need for servants. It’s a sorry state of events when a body can’t even get dressed without assistance.”

Josiah cocked his head to the side. “You’re full of surprises, kid.”

He had no idea just how true his words were. And that’s the way it had to stay.

“Well, I’d better get back to Adela now.” She exited the enclosure and started toward the wagons, then abruptly turned back. “It’s probably a good idea to keep an eye on that hoof tonight, check that the rock didn’t do any damage that might be exacerbated by further travel.”

“I’ll do that.”

Nodding once, she spun on her heels and walked away.

As she neared the wagon circle, the wind picked up, flapping the canvas bonnet material of the wagons against the arched wooden supports. Flames from the campfires leaped higher. Dirt flew into her eyes, making them water, and the cold air stung her exposed cheeks.

Arriving at her covered wagon, Mattie spotted Adela struggling to weave a little girl’s brown hair into braids while the wind did its best to whip the strains out of her hands. The child’s presence no longer came as a surprise—it had taken mere days for little Sarah Jane to become Adela’s shadow.

And Edith Baker’s youngest wasn’t the only child who was often underfoot. The smaller children seemed irresistibly drawn to Adela, who had stood by her promise to keep them entertained and occupied. Often with the aid of another girl about her age, Charlotte Malone.

The mothers appreciated the help riding herd on their little ones, while Adela in turn benefited from the support of other females. Since Mattie wasn’t in a position to fill that role herself, she could only be grateful for the women’s acceptance of her sister.

Despite the fear that it might put her secret at risk.

She simply had to trust that Adela was ever mindful of the danger and guarded her tongue around the others. Just as Mattie did with Josiah and the other men.

“Supper’s going to be full of grit,” Mattie commented, noting the uncovered pot suspended above the cooking fire. The cast-iron lid clinked into place as she remedied the situation.

“Sorry.” Adela grimaced and brushed aside loose tendrils of hair the wind blew across her eyes. “I forgot to replace the cover after I stirred the food. But at least I didn’t let it burn this time.”

Mattie made a noncommittal sound in response.

Despite Rebecca Dawson’s instructions, Adela’s cooking ability hadn’t improved much over the past fortnight. More often than not, Mattie returned to camp after completing her own chores only to find the food burned or otherwise unappetizing. But at least Adela’s complaints had decreased. With all the challenges they faced, Mattie supposed that small victory was enough for now.

* * *

After supper that evening, Josiah and Elias worked together to stake their covered wagon to the ground, to prevent it tipping over in the high winds that hadn’t abated as the sunlight waned.

The task complete, Josiah glanced around the wagon circle to see that most other families had done the same. Or were making a start on it, at least. Including Matt Prescott.

The past couple weeks had proved that the kid was adept at learning what to do by observing those who were more experienced. He had conquered many an obstacle in that way.

But this job looked to be getting the better of him. Though he clearly understood what needed to be done, he struggled with the heavy iron chains. And his slight frame didn’t have the sheer weight required to swing the unwieldy mallet with enough force to drive the stakes deep into the hard-packed earth.

Josiah started forward, and as he neared the Prescotts’ wagon, he caught Matt muttering, “This would be a lot easier if I had a third hand.”

Squatting down next to the kid, Josiah held out his palms. “How about one of these?”

Matt gasped and narrowly missed smashing his thumb with the mallet.

Josiah curled his hands into fists and let them drop. “Sorry, kid. I didn’t mean to startle you. But you’re right—this will be quicker work with an extra set of hands. Why don’t you thread the chain between the spokes and over the iron rim of the wheels, while I pound in the stakes?”

The boy hesitated a moment before nodding. “Thank you.”

Accepting the proffered mallet, Josiah shifted back slightly to give Matt space to maneuver. Links of chain clinked together as he positioned the heavy iron. Then Josiah swung the mallet, filling the air with a series of dull thuds.

The temperature had dropped in the last hour, and his hands felt numbed from the cold even inside a pair of leather gloves. He flexed his fingers as he followed behind Matt, who had already moved on to the next wheel.

Gusts of wind buffeted the covered wagon while they worked to secure it. Josiah prayed it didn’t tip over in the meantime and crush either of them. And he sent fervent thanks heavenward when the job was done.

Soon afterward, he left the Prescotts and headed in the direction of his horses. He was greeted by a chestnut mare prancing along the edge of the enclosure.

Patting her neck, Josiah glanced back over his shoulder toward Matt. “What do you make of him, Flame? He’s a puzzle, sure enough. Still, I can’t help but like the kid.”

The mare bobbed her head up and down as if indicating approval.

Josiah didn’t consider it the least bit outlandish that he was consulting a horse for a second opinion. He’d found they were excellent judges of character, better than most people at sensing when an individual possessed a cruel streak. Or perhaps it was simply that men didn’t feel any need to hide their true selves from animals.

The horses had never displayed any hints of fear or aversion toward Matt Prescott. In fact, they always moved forward, eager for his attention, whenever he approached.

“I reckon he’s a good kid at heart, Flame.” With a final pat to the mare’s glossy coat, he checked on the other horses before rejoining Elias and Rebecca by their campfire.

His sister-in-law greeted him with a smile. “It was kind of you to go over and help Matt.” Her mouth turned down slightly. “The poor boy’s in over his head, with no male family members to support him.”

“A bit, perhaps,” Josiah acknowledged as he took a seat and stretched his legs out in front of him. “But sooner or later every young man has to step out into the world on his own for the first time. I was no different, years ago. Only in my case, I had an older brother who rode to my rescue.” Though admittedly, the time between his mother’s death and Elias’s arrival had been tough.

At thirteen, Josiah had already been working odd jobs for years to help his mother as much as he could. But the money he made wasn’t near enough to cover room and board for himself once she was gone. And the townspeople who had looked down on Louisa Dawson hadn’t stirred themselves to offer charity to her orphaned son.

He didn’t want to think about what his life would be now, if his half brother hadn’t shown up. When he’d been at his lowest point, the Lord had sent Elias to him. To lift Josiah up.

Now that he was in a place where he could, he felt called to help others less fortunate. It was his small way of showing thanks for the blessing he’d been given when his brother had appeared in his life just as Josiah needed him most.

“And now you’re doing the same for another boy.” Rebecca reached over and placed her fingers on Josiah’s arm, her expression beaming with approval. “You’re a good man.”

He drew his legs up and folded his hands together between his bent knees. “I try to be.”

Elias clasped Josiah’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “That’s all any of us can do.”

Half an hour later, Josiah covered a yawn with his hand. “It’s been a long day, so I’m going to call it a night. I’ll see you both in the morning.” He left the pair sitting by their campfire and headed back toward the horse enclosure.

Since he wasn’t scheduled for guard duty, he opted to bed down near his horses, fearing the turbulent weather might unsettle them.

Somewhere around midnight, rain began to fall. It made for an uncomfortable night out in the open. But the oilskin cloth on the outside of Josiah’s bedroll kept the worst of the dampness from soaking into his clothes. At least until he got up to check on his horses.

The storm suddenly seemed to gain intensity, as the rain blew sideways, pelting him with fat drops. He regretted his lack of forethought, that he hadn’t retrieved his rain slicker from the covered wagon earlier.

But he was nowhere near as wet and miserable as the horses standing huddled together. Rainwater sluiced off their coats, and the wind blew their sodden tails out behind them like streamers. The drenching wasn’t likely to cause any lasting harm to such hardy stock, but they looked pitiful all the same.

Near dawn, the deluge let up at last—leaving behind a soggy quagmire even hours later. While the group enjoyed a welcome respite from the dust, the mud added a new hindrance. Over the course of the morning, several wagons became mired along the trail. It slowed their progress, and tempers were short.

Especially when Hardwick’s overloaded wagon got stuck tight, and he simply stood back, expecting others to assist his servants in doing the physical labor required to free it.

Josiah, along with Matt and half a dozen other men, put a shoulder against the tailgate, while the oxen strained at the front. But whereas lighter wagons had been freed with relative ease, it was no use this time. The wheels had sunk deep and refused to budge.

“This isn’t working,” the man to Josiah’s right grunted in frustration. In his early forties, Thomas Malone was tall and thin with pale blond hair—traits he’d passed down to all four of his children.

“Stop pushing for a minute,” Miles instructed. “We need to come up with a different plan.”

Glad for the opportunity to take a breather, Josiah relaxed his muscles and propped an arm against the wagon box.

Jed Smith rubbed his jaw as he studied the covered wagon, then turned toward the wagon master. “If we unload some of the heavier items, then we might be able to push it forward.”

Several heads nodded in accord.

But Hardwick took exception. “You dare to suggest that priceless antiques be placed in the muck?” Pinching a tiny dot of mud from his trousers, he cleaned his fingertips on a monogrammed handkerchief. “I will not hear of it!”

His words were greeted by angry retorts from many of the others, all of whom were mud-splattered from head to toe.

A piercing whistle cut through the ruckus, halting the grumbles of discontent. “Does anyone have any other ideas?” Miles inserted into the silence.

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