THE PROPOSAL
Reuben awoke with a start. Sarah crouched beside him, pushing gently on his shoulder. “You needed the sleep Reuben; and Rebecca’s awake.” Sarah nodded with her head toward the wagon, its canvas top illuminated by the dull glow of the oil lamps. “I just took supper to her.” Raising his fists, Reuben rubbed his eyes, blinking.
Overhead, the sky was a dark canopy punctuated by countless stars. The leaves of the aspen grove that cradled Blue Creek and the east side of Wolf Creek Pass fluttered, lending a textured rustle to the breeze sighing through the scattered conifers on the slope above them.
His fingers had stiffened from the cold. “Chilly,” he said, flexing his hands.
Sarah smiled, snugging the blanket she had wrapped around her shoulders up close to her neck. “But clean and fresh,” she too raised her eyes to the sky, “and beautiful. It would take a lifetime to count all those stars.”
Reuben chuckled. “Several lifetimes.” He rose to his feet, glancing at the wagon and then at Sarah.
“Go on, Reuben. She would love to see you. Between her feeling a tad sickly and retiring early these past few nights, and the non-stop schedule that you and the others are keeping.…” Sarah’s voice trailed off and she returned her stare from the night sky to his, “a little time together would be good. I’ll straighten up around the fire.”
Reuben turned, walking toward the wagon. He patted the pocket of his britches, feeling the round outline of the ring he had purchased when he slipped into Fort Massachusetts. Such a cheap little ring, but there was no choice. I will get her another at the first opportunity.
His knock on the tailgate of the wagon was answered with a cheerful, “Reuben? Please come in.”
Reuben untied the rear canvas and lowered the tailgate. Not bothering with the ladder, he sprang onto the back of the wagon, closing the tailgate and re-lashing the canvas behind him. It was noticeably warmer inside, the gentle wind stirring the canvas top, the oil lamps emitting heat as well as light. Rebecca sat on her bedroll, the extra blanket pulled up to her hips. She had donned one of her lighter jackets over her chemise, but the silky cream of her undergarment was visible in the jacket’s open lapel, as was the smooth, creamy flesh below the sheer material. Suspended over a hint of dark circles, her slightly puffy eyes seemed welcoming. She had obviously brushed her hair, but her dark locks had a wild, unkempt look. So is this the time to ask? What are these butterflies? It’s ridiculous to be nervous; she’s carrying our child.
She placed the tin plate Sarah had brought her on top of the flour barrel. Shifting her hips toward the inside of the bedroll, she patted the makeshift bed next to her. “Perfect timing, Reuben. I just finished supper. Come over and sit. It seems we haven’t really talked in days.” Tipping her face slightly, she batted her eyes. “And if I’m not too disheveled looking you might even kiss me.” Her smile both challenged and teased.
Reuben’s eyes shifted momentarily to her tin plate. Only half eaten. He walked the several steps to her bedroll, seating himself beside her and nodded at the plate. “People that don’t eat normally don’t feel well. If you wish, I would be happy to feed you.” He laughed. “See, I can be romantic.”
Rebecca’s eyes were fixed on his lips. Reaching out both arms, she clasped her hands behind his neck, pulling his face toward hers. “I would rather you kiss me.”
Their lips met, slowly, just a tingling brush at first, then melded into a warm, passionate kiss. Reuben’s arm wrapped around her back pulling her body to his. Cradling her cheek to the muscular trough of his shoulder and neck, she sighed deeply. “I have missed you, Mr. Frank. It’s ridiculous. We’re on the same little wagon train.”
Reuben laughed. “Yep. Two wagons and three hundred cows.”
She nodded her head into his shoulder, giggling. “Yes, not quite like the long line of wagons in our journey from St. Louis to Cherry Creek…or the endless parade of buggies and coaches in front of the theatres in London.” Reuben felt himself tense. Why in this place, at this moment, would she mention England?
Drawing back her head, her eyes were wide and animated. “These mountains, Reuben, they are beautiful—stunning. Every twist and turn of the trail is an entirely different vista. The south slopes are completely different from the north slopes and every few hundred feet going up or down, the vegetation and leaves seem to change. I never knew.”
Reuben half chuckled in agreement. “I had an inkling from the scout’s letters to my father but I had no real idea either.” He raised his hands to her shoulders, pushing her back gently. “Rebecca, we have to talk.” He looked at her sharply. “First, how are you feeling? Really.”
Her eyes flickered from his for an instant and then returned his searching gaze. “I feel more tired than normal and once in a while for a brief spell in the mornings I feel nauseous.”
Reuben looked closely at her. “It does not appear that you are eating much either.”
She giggled. “I may not eat all of my supper Reuben but each morning I prepare quite a bundle of snacks. For some reason I’m craving pemmican. Every time the wagon is in a relatively controllable stretch of trail I find myself eating.” She rolled her eyes. “So, when I’m completely fat, round and waddling around like one of those cows of yours, will you still kiss me like that?”
Half a question, half worried. “I don’t believe, Mistress Marx, that you ever have to worry about Reuben Frank not kissing you—often.” Her facial muscles relaxed slightly and her eyes sparkled.
“Rebecca,” Reuben looked down at his boots and then back up at her. “I’ve been giving this a lot of thought. Our child can’t be a bastard. He needs to have the name of his father. I know how little villages work. Folks’ favorite pastime is talking about tidbits concerning others—whether accurate or not. They will love discussing our child, and the wanton Englishwoman who is the mother but not married. Grist for the gossip mill.”
Rebecca’s chin lifted. “Then we shall not go to town.”
Reuben shook his head. “There will be no getting around having to trade with someone. Based on the maps, there are only two tiny human camps within a day or two’s ride of the Red Mountains and they are primarily Ute villages…depending upon exactly where we decide to locate the ranch.” He tried to smile, “As I understand it from the scout’s notes, sometimes there is trading at the remnants of Fort Uncompahgre, but the Mexican trader that built it, Antoine Robidoux, abandoned it in the forties. And its eighty miles away at the confluence of the Uncompahgre and Gunnison Rivers.” “I see,” she said slowly. “And don’t forget my land and gold, Reuben.”
Reuben stared at her. I need to choose the right words. “Rebecca, about your land. It will be interesting to see where it is situated relative to the general location of the ranch. The scout recommended the area at the lower end of a certain creek before it empties into the Uncompahgre River for the homestead. But I didn’t see that creek on your map.” He looked at her intently. “Don’t get your hopes up on gold. I know similar rumors have bubbled up from my father’s scout and in his maps, and from your father’s travels and your map, but don’t set yourself up for disappointment.”
Her eyebrows lowered into a slight frown and the line of her lips thinned.
I know that look, he thought. “What I mean to say is, at the least, I’m sure your land is breathtaking. It may have timber resources on it. I’m sure it is suitable for cattle and perhaps has good water for hay. Neither one of us will know until the time comes.”
“I believe, Reuben,” her eyes did not waiver from his, “that my dear father’s bequeath will be all of that, but I have this feeling that there may well be more.”
Reuben took one of her hands between both of his, taking in a deep breath and holding it for a moment before exhaling. “It will be what it will be, but, what is, is. You and me.” He reached out his other hand placing it lightly on her belly, partially concealed by the bedroll. “Us. I’d really planned to bring you flowers, drop down on one knee with the sun beating down and a huge expanse of one of these views around us.” Chortling, he shook his head. “But at this rate…” his voice trailed off.
Her eyes were wide, her lips slightly parted. “Are you proposing to me, Mr. Frank?”
“Yes,” stammered Reuben, “Yes, I suppose I am.”
She leaned back into the blankets keeping her hand sandwiched between his. “Reuben, our child can most certainly have your last name.”
Reuben felt a wide smile rapidly broadening on his face. Freeing one hand from hers, he began to reach into his pocket. “You mean…”
She held up her hand, “No, I mean your child, our child, can certainly have the last name of Frank but I will have to think more about marriage. That could be very confining, you know.”
“Confining?” Reuben felt a flash of anxious, confused anger. Even the ring pressing against his thigh felt hot. He withdrew his fingers from his pocket as unobtrusively as possible and stood, pacing two steps, then turning and pacing again, suddenly wishing he could stride right out the damn wagon. Confinement? She’s not the only one who feels confined. I’ll be damned if I will have to convince the woman carrying my child to marry me.
“I’ve been honest with you, Reuben,” she said, looking up at him earnestly. “I don’t know what I may find on or about father’s land. I have responsibilities in England. They may not be able to be handled satisfactorily unless I am there. What if I did have to go back?”
Reuben stood still, staring at her. “You mean if you choose to go back.”
Rebecca was silent, her eyes blinking several times.
“Yes, Reuben. If I choose to go back. What if for whatever reason, I did not return or something happened to me, or to you? We would be married, not even knowing, unable to move on with our lives, constrained by some distant tether.”
“Distant tether?” Get that edge out of your voice, Reuben.
He turned and stepped away, his back to her. Taking a deep breath, he turned back, walked over and sat down on the bedroll next to her, dropping his hand gently to her belly again. “This is not a tether. This is a bond. Unbreakable. Forever. We have a child to consider, not just ourselves. What would you propose to do with our son or daughter if you decided to traipse back to Europe?”
A startled expression flashed across her features, and Reuben thought she grew a shade paler. “I…I hadn’t thought of that, Reuben.”
Struggling to mask his hurt frustration, he leaned over, kissing her softly but quickly on the lips. “I didn’t think so.” He stood, looking down at her, one hand still holding hers. Thank God I didn’t pull the damn ring out. “Think about these things, Rebecca, as will I. It would never be my intention to bind a heart to mine that did not wish to be bound but there are realities.”
Her eyes widened and she tightened her grip on his. “I’m sure that together…”
Putting one finger to his lips, Reuben focused on keeping his tone level. “We can talk about it in a few days. Get some rest. Tomorrow will be a hard day. We’re pushing down through the gap and if that short cut of Zeb’s is open, I’d like to make Farmers Creek before dark and camp there. We still have a long ways to go, Rebecca. From what Zeb says, the trail will become more difficult, the mountains higher, more rugged, and,” he forced a grin, “even more spectacular.”
They held each other’s gaze for an extended moment, then Reuben turned, letting go of her hand. “I will tell Sarah to come on in. She’s probably freezing out there.”