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Wed On The Wagon Train
Tracy Blalock
Temporary MarriageWhen 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, a 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…
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 (#u1e9a3ef5-ce9b-50ed-b715-adaa98d62fd3),
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 (http://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 (#u6f14eb36-5088-515f-bf89-1f034a44c036)
Back Cover Text (#ud4018f78-93a0-5625-9a74-3c1415c90f8d)
Introduction (#ua578bfb0-59a3-540b-8322-e9a2560a0d64)
Dear Reader (#u3eafe6c2-6cac-5481-a331-6350d6bac60b)
About the Author (#ua039d01c-6805-5b1b-a70d-a469f04ccc33)
Title Page (#udbfc4f48-c9e9-5b61-9631-d497cc63d51c)
Bible Verse (#u6e7877ec-71d6-500f-87c4-e13d0d0c516d)
Dedication (#uc90f836e-8d56-5118-b874-70caacecca05)
Chapter One (#u26a1cd2f-cfc3-52d9-b026-d0c2ad399625)
Chapter Two (#u029d587b-5ef7-5eaf-9339-5355fddcc66b)
Chapter Three (#u078d34bc-9972-5bc1-90aa-171926d6187e)
Chapter Four (#ud4abafc7-b6bb-5531-a440-a70158e9d584)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#u1e9a3ef5-ce9b-50ed-b715-adaa98d62fd3)
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.
