Abby’s insides had turned to ice and not solely from being in the river. Far worse was the fear that Donny had drowned. Was she to be responsible for the death of two twin brothers?
Over and over she shrieked a single word. No. No. No. If she could go back in time and stop Andy, she would. She’d trade her life for his if she could.
This time she had at least tried to save both twins, but she should never have left Donny. Should have dragged both children to shore. Never mind that she couldn’t manage to save one on her own.
Did she dream it or had Ben pulled her from the icy water?
Never mind. No time to think about that now. Must find Donny. He couldn’t die.
She staggered along the bank. The searchers were ahead of her now, milling around. Why weren’t they looking in the water instead of standing there?
The only reason for it shuddered through her. Her legs threatened to unravel beneath her.
Ben grabbed her hand and stopped her ragged flight. “Abby, look.”
An Indian on horseback. The first one she’d seen. Any other time she would have been curious and fascinated. Not now. “I have to find Donny. He can’t die.”
Ben wouldn’t let her pull away. “Look closer.”
He caught her chin and turned her attention to the stranger in their midst.
She blinked. The Indian held something in his arms. A body with blond hair. Donny? Had he—? Was he—? She tore from Ben and raced toward the mounted native.
Donny turned his head, saw her and flashed a bright smile.
He was alive. She laughed. Thank You, God. Thank You.
“Boy brave.” The mounted man handed Donny to her. Her legs melted beneath her and she sank to the ground holding him. Ben knelt beside her, his arms encircling them both.
“You’re safe. You’re safe. Thank God.” She murmured the words over and over, each one choking past her tear-clogged throat.
“And the Indian,” Donny said. “He was nice to me.”
Of course. She looked up at the man. “Thank you. Thank you.”
Mr. Weston rode up and spoke to the rescuer. He chuckled. “Our friend says Donny was hanging on to a piece of wood. Wasn’t about to let it go.”
Mr. and Mrs. Jensen raced up to them, Mrs. Jensen crying out her children’s names. She scooped Cathy into her arms and her husband took Donny. They huddled together, sheltering the children between them and kissed and hugged them.
“Thank you. Thank you.” Mrs. Jensen sobbed.
Mr. Jensen held a hand out to the Indian and they shook then the mounted man reined about and rode away.
Amid much chatter, the crowd made its way upstream.
But Abby didn’t move. Her limbs were rubbery. More than that, she couldn’t think why she should leave the warming shelter of Ben’s arms. If only she could stay here. Belong here.
She shuddered.
“You’re cold.”
“No more so than you.” But their bodies created warmth in their shared coverings.
“We should return.” But he didn’t release her. Nor did she make any effort to get to her feet.
Just a little longer until her insides stopped quaking.
“I’m so glad Donny and Cathy are both safe.” Her voice broke at how close it had been.
“Thanks to you. From what Rachel said, it seems you were the only one who realized they needed help. I suppose everyone else thought the next person had reached out and grabbed them.”
“I’m so glad I could do something.”
“Abigail. Abigail.” Father rushed toward them.
Ben let her blanket fall to her shoulders and pushed to his feet. He held out a hand to pull her up.
She didn’t want to leave this moment. This connection with Ben. She wanted to pretend they belonged together. She closed her eyes as if she could shut out the truth. This moment had only been about saving the twins. It had to be enough to satisfy her.
If only she could silence the lonely wail of her heart she might believe it.
Father reached her side. “Are you okay? I heard you about drowned.” He pulled the blanket tighter under her chin and put an arm around her shoulders. “You’re freezing. We need to get you back so you can get into dry clothes.”
He held her close as he hurried her back to the camp. “Our wagon is already across.”
Emma and Rachel waved from the other side.
Ben grunted. “Ours is over safely, too.”
A wagon perched on the ferry. Clarence sat on the bench ready to take the Morrison wagon over.
“We’ll ride across, too,” Ben said, and jumped to the ferry.
Clarence spared them a defensive look as if to inform them he could handle this on his own.
Ben ignored him and held out his hand to assist Abby.
She clung to Father. The ferry looked small and insignificant. It hardly seemed enough to keep them afloat. She glanced over her shoulder. For the first time since they’d departed she considered going back.
Father must have understood her confusion. “Abigail, there is nothing for us back there. Our best hope is to get to Oregon. A new beginning, remember?” He gently urged her forward.
“‘The Lord is my shepherd. He leadeth me beside the still waters.’” The verse ran through Abby’s mind. But the waters were not still. They rushed and roared and sucked one downward. Oh, for some still, calm waters.
She faced the ferry but could not force her feet to step forward and commit herself to the insignificant bit of wood.
Ben leaned forward and took her hand. “I’ve got you.”
His hand steadied her. His words comforted and she took a step and then another until she stood at his side.
Father jumped aboard and again wrapped his arm about her shoulders.
The ferry moved away from the shore. It floated free, shifting with the current.
She closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip until she tasted blood.
“You’re safe,” Ben murmured, his voice close to her ear.
That’s when she realized he pressed to her side and she gripped his hand hard enough to numb the fingers of a smaller hand.
The ferry bumped. She squealed.
“We’re safe on the other side.”
They had to wait for the wagon to offload before she scrambled to solid ground.
Emma and Rachel rushed to her holding blankets. Emma rubbed her wet hair. “You need to get into dry clothes,” she murmured, and led her to the Bingham wagon.
“I can manage,” she said when it appeared they would climb inside with her.
Mother perched on her high-backed chair. “What were you thinking?” Her harsh whispered words were like wooden bullets piercing Abby’s brain.
“I was thinking I didn’t want the twins to drown.” She pulled her dry clothes from her bag and turned her back to her mother to work her way out of the waterlogged outfit.
“Have you forgotten your duty to us? Your promise?”
If she ever did, her mother would certainly remind her. She had made a promise. Yes, she hoped she would be freed of it but until that happened...
In the meantime, she was more than aware of the command to honor her parents. “I’ve not forgotten, nor have I forgotten how it feels to lose a twin brother.”
“Drowning yourself in the river won’t bring Andy back.”
“I know that, Mother.”
“If only you had been as concerned about saving your brother as you were about saving strangers Andrew would still be with us.”
If only. If only. The words battered the inside of her heart.
Mother talked as Abby changed her clothes, pointing out the risks and dangers of the journey they’d undertaken. “A journey of death.”
Abby couldn’t listen to another word about dying and hurriedly buttoned the bodice of her dress. Despite Mother’s objections, she’d left her fine silks and satins behind and brought only practical, simple cotton frocks.
Mother had been quite dismissive of Abby’s choice. “Next you’ll be making your own gowns from sacks.”
Abby climbed from the wagon with Mother’s warnings following her.
Rachel pulled her toward the fire and urged her to sit down on a quilt she’d spread on the ground. She and Emma took the few remaining pins from her hair and brushed it before the warm flames. They talked softly and soothingly as they worked.
Abby had never had sisters to fuss over her. Her nurses hadn’t been unkind but their attention had never felt this way—warm, embracing. Again if onlys filled her thoughts. If only her mother had shown this kind of love. If only Abby had been able to prevent Andy’s death.
A silent moan ripped through her body. She hadn’t even tried to stop Andy. Rather, she’d encouraged him. She’d always been so proud of his boldness and quick wits.
She’d never be free of the past. Even if she could be free of the promise she’d given, she could not follow her heart.
At this fragile moment she wanted to have Ben hold her and protect her. But that wasn’t what she really wanted. She wanted independence, not belonging to another man.
Maybe he’s different, a tiny voice whispered inside her head.
Maybe he was, she argued back. And maybe he wasn’t. She could be friends with him but nothing more. Never again would she risk being owned by a man, subject to his moods and meanness.
Not that she’d been offered anything but his concern. The same concern he’d have shown to anyone else.
That, she assured herself, suited her just fine.
And if she shivered it was only because of the cold dunking she’d taken. Certainly not because her heart had turned to ice.
* * *
Ben had changed his clothes. He needed to return to the river and help ferry wagons over, but not until he made certain Abby was okay. Of course, Emma and Rachel could look after her, but until his mind was at ease he posed a distracted risk at the crossing.
Abby sat with her head bowed as his sisters tended her hair.
He’d never before seen her blond mane loose and falling down her back. Thick and luxuriant, it mirrored the sun’s rays. He curled his fingers against an urge to edge closer and run them through it.
Instead, he studied her posture. He’d like to believe she looked relaxed, but couldn’t convince himself it was so. Her shoulders slumped so much he wanted to hug her and comfort her. Everyone had overheard Mrs. Bingham’s comments. Like Abby had jokingly pointed out, there was little hope for privacy with only a canvas barrier. He wondered if Mrs. Bingham cared whether others heard her. In her opinion, they were of little note.
Why did she seem to blame Abby for her brother’s death? How unfair. Near as he could recall, Abby would have been about fourteen at the time. How could she possibly be held responsible even if she’d been the cause of an accident? Accidents happened no matter how careful a person was.
He took a step closer and halted. What could he do? He didn’t have the right to hold her. Nor to say the words he longed to say.
His sisters continued to fuss over her hair and talk to her.
Her head came up. The strain around her eyes eased, but the sunshine of her smile was absent.
He took another step. The least he could do was say something. Perhaps not the words welling up inside him, yet other words of comfort and encouragement might help.
At that moment, the entire Jensen family made their noisy way over.
The twins, now dry and back to normal, rushed to Abby. She opened her arms and welcomed them, kissing each on the top of the head.
“I’m so glad to see you’re okay.”
Mrs. Jensen handed the littlest baby to one of the bigger girls and knelt before Abby. She reached around the twins and enfolded all three into a hug.
“You saved my children. I will never forget it.” She drew back and wiped her eyes.
“It wasn’t me.”
“Mostly, it was,” Mrs. Jensen said.
Abby squeezed her hand. “I’m glad everyone is safe.”
Mr. Jensen reached for Abby’s other hand and pumped it up and down. “We’re so grateful.”
The older girls murmured their thanks, as well.
“Sit down and visit a spell,” Emma said as Rachel prepared tea. “Mr. Jensen?” she offered him a cupful.
“Alvin, please, and my wife’s name is Delores.” They took the offered tea. The children sat back quietly as the adults visited.
Sally joined them, leaving Johnny with the Jensen girls. Mr. Bingham and Martin remained at the banks of the river.
Where Ben should be, he thought with a guilty glance that direction. Soon.
Emma offered him tea and he joined the group.
Abby’s eyes darkened as if something troubled her as she looked from Alvin to Delores. “Last I saw, your wagon was in the river. Did you, is it—?”
Alvin answered her faltering question. “Our wagon made it across in one piece.”
Ben heard the note in his voice that said it wasn’t entirely good news. “Did you lose much?”
Alvin and Delores exchanged glances. “Some.” The word was spoken cautiously.
Ben felt their pride but pride wouldn’t feed and care for six children and their parents. “Can you be more specific?”
Again the Jensens shared a look. Alvin nodded. “We have one sack of flour that didn’t get ruined. We saved a lot of our things. We have our milk cow and Mr. Weston assures me we can hope to find game.”
“We’d all be glad of some fresh meat.” Ben understood what they didn’t say...they’d lost more than they cared to admit.
“Well, we best be on our way.” The Jensens gathered up their children and departed.
Ben looked about at his sisters and friends and saw his concern mirrored. “I’ll check with Sam to see exactly how much they lost.” He strode back to the river and found the wagon master.
The news wasn’t good.
“I saw a lot of stuff floating downstream. And much of what stayed in the wagon was water soaked.”
“We’ll all share with them.” Ben passed the word along and by suppertime, numerous gifts had been left for the Jensens.
“We’ll share, too,” he said to Emma. “We can surely spare something.”
“Of course we can.” Both sisters hurried to the wagon.
“We’ll send over something, as well,” Abby said. “We’ve got more sugar than we need.” She went to their wagon.
Mrs. Bingham spoke loudly. “We will not sacrifice because of someone else’s foolishness.”
“It wasn’t foolishness, Mother. It was an accident.”
“I’ve said from the first that this trip is doomed for failure.” Her voice grew louder, sharper.
Around them, people stopped and stared in her direction.
Mr. Bingham strode in from wherever he’d been and went directly to the wagon. “Hush, Martha. This kind of talk serves no good purpose.”
Mrs. Bingham’s voice rose even louder. “People should not be encouraged to take such rash actions. Abigail, put that sugar back. We’ll starve to death and it will be your fault.”
“Abigail,” her father sounded firm and tired. “Take what you think we can spare. Now, Martha, why don’t you come with me and we’ll go for a little stroll. You need to stretch your legs.”
Abby slipped away with the sugar and crossed to the Jensen wagon without looking to the right or left. Her cheeks shone a rosy pink.
Some muttering and muffled words came from the Bingham wagon and then Mr. Bingham alighted, reached up to assist his wife and the two of them walked away from the stunned listeners.
Ben stood rooted to the ground. What was wrong with that woman that she blamed Abby for things beyond her control? That she saw nothing but doom and disaster?
He watched for Abby to return. Mrs. Jensen sat beside their wagon, surrounded by the many generous gifts. She wiped her eyes.
The twins chased each other across the grass. The older girls played with the babies.
Where was Abby?
He looked farther afield. Was that her hurrying past a wagon several hundred yards away? A smile tugged at his lips. He’d know her graceful way of moving amid a thousand women dressed alike. Concern erased his smile. Why was she going the wrong direction?
He jogged after her, not wanting to overtake her immediately lest she protest.
She hurried on past the last wagon and onward. Not until the commotion of emigrants and their animals had faded to a dull hum did she slow her steps. She stared to the west then to the river. What was she thinking? Then she sank to the ground overlooking the river.
He stood still but he must have made some sound because she turned and saw him.
She considered him with wide hazel eyes then turned to again stare at the river.
Assuring himself she would have said something if she didn’t care to have him join her, he closed the distance and sank to her side, far enough away not to make her uneasy, but close enough he could enjoy her sweet scent.
He didn’t speak. He didn’t feel the need, nor did he have any idea what to say.
The silence went on and on for about ten minutes then she released her breath in a loud gust.
“Mother did not want to make this trip.”
That was clearly evident to one and all.
“Father wants to start a new business where the economy is flourishing.”
Ben continued to listen.
“Why did I think anything would change?” She cranked around and stared at him.
He swallowed hard and thought fast. “Your circumstances are surely going to change.”
She quirked an eyebrow as if to tell him his answer was far from adequate. “People don’t change.” She resumed staring at the river. Or at least in that direction. He couldn’t say if she actually saw the water or something deep inside her own thoughts.
“Sometimes they do,” he ventured.
“You’ve seen it for yourself, or you’re just making it up?”
“Seen it for myself. Pa changed after Ma died.”
“For the better or worse?”
He had to think about that a moment. “Neither. He just changed. I guess having four children to care for on his own made him more serious, more cautious and maybe even more loving.”
“He’s the only one you can think of? And it hardly counts, because his circumstances and responsibilities forced him to make changes. Yet, I expect he was still the same sort of man.”
She had a point, yet it annoyed him that she ignored his argument. “I still say people change. I’m sure you’ve changed since...well, since you were young...younger,” he quickly corrected himself.
She appeared to consider the possibility. “I think you’d be surprised at how little I’ve changed.” She pushed to her feet and hurried toward the wagons.
He stared after her. Then jerked up and rushed after her. “How can you say that? You lost your husband. You’re headed West with your parents. Those things must have changed you. Changed your views. Changed your feelings. Something.”
“I suppose you’re right.” She marched onward.
He didn’t follow. She obviously didn’t agree despite her words. But what did she mean? What hadn’t changed?
Could she possibly mean her feelings toward him hadn’t changed? But that simply wasn’t possible.
Was it?
And what if it were true? His heart flew to the top of his mouth and as quickly fell toward his feet. He turned back to the river.
Things could never be the same between them as they had been. He, for one, was not as eager to give his heart to anyone. Least of all, someone who had treated it so poorly.
He didn’t always agree with Rachel, but this time her words served as a guide. Abby would only use him while it suited her.
He knew it and knew enough to guard his heart.