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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.
