Bright Morning Star (11 page)

“It’s wrong for a sheltered young woman to be allowed to parade around in front of God and the rest of the train. It could be bad for her reputation.”

Bonnie coughed, “She wasn’t alone, or do I look like a bread pudding to you?”

“No, well, I know she wasn’t alone. But I just don’t think it’s seemly, that’s all,” Henry said.

“Well, when you have your own daughter, you can train her up the way you like. If Claire is to find a suitable man to marry, she needs to have a chance to make her selection from the eligible men she meets. Then, if she finds one she likes, her mother and I will make sure he is worthy.” He rose, blustery and stiff.

Bella called from their wagon, “Aren’t you coming to bed, Henry?”

He fumed, still wanting to argue. He stomped off, clearly at a loss for what to say next.

“Robert, are you all right,” Mother Wimberley asked.

“Still a little stiff from sleeping on the ground,” he answered.

“Well, keep your original accommodations. Didn’t bother me at all? You ready for bed boys?” Bonnie said as she looked around for the children.

“They’ve already set up and turned in. So’s the little girl,” Father said.

“Do you have guard duty early or late tonight?” Mother Wimberley asked.

“Don’t have it at all. Me or Henry. Best to bed, all of you. We’ll be moving out at the crack of dawn tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow and every day,” Claire said from inside the wagon.

Bonnie patted the canvas as she walked past, grinning. Claire took a deep breath. The flapping noise was as loud as though she’d said ‘Goose.’

<><><>

Claire should have kept quiet. But the only thrill she’d had was just now. Talking with Faye, she had realized her new friend was far less intelligent and fun than her two real friends, Bonnie and Lynne.

That afternoon she rode back to keep her date with the other girl. Mortified by Henry snatching her up like a child to carry back to her own wagon, Claire had not dared to stand and wait to catch a ride with Dorothy Brewer the way she had Faye.

Instead, with Bonnie beside her, riding between her and the Raglon wagon, Claire had ridden the mare back to the ninth wagon. Bonnie tied Sue to the back of the wagon, then returned to her patrol on Bob.

There was almost no dust and Claire and Dorothy had fun flipping through the women’s magazine. This time when the visit was over, Claire had managed to tuck her skirt, mount the way Bonnie had taught her, and ride back to her own wagon without any fuss. This time she had only to nod or wave at people as she passed.

Holding her breath beside the already sleeping Mary Anne, Claire waited for her parents to climb in from the front of the wagon and get ready to sleep together on the mattress that butted up against the one the girls shared. Space was at a premium in the tightly packed wagon, but with Father’s invention of the removable benches, each wagon had room for two regular mattresses. Both were elevated on top of cases and boxes from home with an extra stack of boxes between the two mattresses.

Now, exhausted, she needed to sleep. But her only thrill in the long day made her heart pound and her eyes refuse to close. Henry and Father were arguing about her. Henry had been angry because of the two miserable excuses for men who had come to court her. He had argued about what was proper for her to do.

No matter how much they both liked to pretend, she had definitely heard it there in his voice. Henry was jealous.

Her heart beat faster in her chest and she had trouble breathing. He was married. It was wrong to feel this way, a terrible sin. But Claire felt the tears catch on the ends of her lashes and breathed slowly to ease the tightness.

They had done nothing wrong. She had gentlemen calling on her tomorrow night, according to James Temple. Maybe it was good that the men had walked with the Brewer cousins first. She would wear her green dress, make sure she had finger combed her curls into a nest on top of her head. It would be late in the day, no need for a hat or gloves.

She tried to remember again, what either man looked like, but all she could see or remember was Henry’s voice, full of emotion, as he argued with Father that she should be sheltered.

Claire woke in a dither of excitement, light headed from her sleepless night. She had decided to put the Lambton’s out of mind completely. There were twenty men for every woman on the frontier. She could have her pick. All she had to do was outshine the other women, and although it probably would sound immodest, it was something she knew she already did. So what if the handsome Lieutenant had ignored her and sparked to her tall friend. Mother had pointed out how sensible that was since he was so unusually tall. Claire had no interest in tall men. If James Temple were any taller, she would cross him off as well.

She was determined to shine tonight, just in case one of the four friends, from Hanover had hidden qualities that would make him a worthy mate. It was difficult with her limited wardrobe to choose from. It even meant taking a sponge bath in the moving wagon to freshen up before changing clothes for the evening. Afterward, Mother combed and helped her style her hair, the way Mother loved to do. Claire had babbled about the possibility that one of the men might be the right one this time. She discussed the others with her mother, pointing out their flaws.

Mother’s advice was that it took time to find the perfect jewel, one sometimes had to overturn a lot of worthless stones. Father was riding beside the wagon, apparently listening. He teased Mother that she hadn’t picked through very many and she had blushed and been flustered the rest of the afternoon. Claire asked again, but her mother told her she would only be bored by the story of how they met.

When Claire insisted, pleaded that a daughter had a right to know how her own parents met, Mother relented.

“Our Father’s came over from England together, right before the war. Your Grandfather Wimberley was a watchmaker and Grandfather Howard was an iron worker. America is such a young country, always with some new frontier to explore and conquer.” Mother said and paused as Father called out something to Jim ahead.

Mother resumed as soon as the wheels began to turn again on the big wagon. “Well, they planned to become gun makers, or at least prepare ammunition. Americans are always shooting someone or each other.”

“Grandfather met grandmother on the boat, right. Like Lynne’s parents met.”

“Yes, but Lynne’s parents met twenty years after your grandparents. Abigail Walsh, well her distant ancestors were Welsh, but she grew up in County Cork in Ireland.”

“And she already had all her things embroidered with W’s, don’t you see.” Claire interrupted again, this time with a fairly good imitation of the grandmother who had died when she was young. She lost both grandparents to the same epidemic that took Lynne’s baby brothers and her father and older brother, Sean. But for a moment, the laughing, merry little grandmother was alive again.

“You are just like her. All golden curls and sunshine. I hope you never change. I always have some of Mother with me in your smile.”

Claire leaned closer and hugged her mother as the woman’s voice tightened with emotion.

“Whatever would I change into, a pumpkin?”

Mother laughed and pinched her nose before kissing her on the forehead.

<><><>

That night had been as disappointing as the first. The men were polite, but very dull, wanting only to talk about how much better mining would be than sheep farming. Claire wondered if they expected to actually just walk around putting nuggets in their pockets. She had heard her Father and Henry talking about how the good ore had been found and claims staked. Now was the time for large scale mining, and an opportunity for merchandising to the new settlers. Besides, weren’t any of these young fools worried about the Indians?

Back at the campfire, Claire was relieved to find Henry and Bella had already turned in for the night.

She squeezed in between her parents on the bench, nudging her Father.

“You interrupted the story today, so you have to tell it. How did you and Mother meet?”

Her father laughed and circled her shoulders, reaching out a hand to tickle her mother’s neck. “We met in the cradle. Our parents lived next door to each other, worked together at the same factory. Your Grandmother didn’t have a cradle so when your mother was born, she put the baby to bed during the day in the cradle beside me. I was a month older. We’ve practically been sleeping together ever since.”

“Oh posh,” Mother said, cheeks flaming as she rose abruptly. “You are lucky I chose you Robert Wimberley. I had lots of beaus to pick from. I might not have been as lovely as Claire, but I had my suitors.”

Father chuckled and Claire stared up at her beautiful Mother. Was she really prettier than Mother? She looked to her Father, but she could tell in his eyes, her mother was the clear winner.

“Come back, pet, I was only teasing.” He gave Claire a squeeze and a kiss on the cheek, then rose to follow his still fussing wife.

Claire knew they would take their time making-up. Frustrated, she sighed.

Bonnie came over and sat down beside her, giving her a rough bump of the shoulder. “So what’s all that flurry about?”

Claire shrugged. “Nothing, really. Bonnie do you ever wonder. Will we ever have that? What our mothers had?”

“Our Mothers?”

“You know, Lynne’s parents, my grandparents, my parents, a love so sweet and wonderful nothing else matters.”

“Aye, it does seem to be harder. But I don’t know why not. You know, my Da and Mum love each other like that. They had a hard patch. It was more than Da losing jobs and drinking. I think it was the last bairn. I wish I hadn’t been at the factory and had had a chance to see him. But ever since we met Barney, I’ve thought a lot about my little lost brother.”

“You mean you think he wasn’t born dead?” Claire whispered in horror.

“Aye. I’ve thought and thought about how they were before, and how my Da changed after the boy was lost. I think he wasn’t born perfect, had some kind of defect. Well, you know how it is when you’re poor.”

“They couldn’t afford a handicapped child or to house it in an asylum.”

“Aye, and me Mum would never have the heart to do for her own bairn that way. It must have been awful hard, but I’m thinking my Da forced himself to do it.” Bonnie’s voice broke and for a minute it was Claire who held and comforted her.

“You don’t know that. Your father loves his children so much.”

“Aye, he’s a weakness for the little ones, all right. But you see without work, he couldn’t see the others starve for a mite that would never be right, could never do anything. I mean I love Bella’s little boy. A pure angel, he is.”

“I know. When she talks to him or sings and he sings back to her, it’s so sweet. I just feel so sorry for him.”

“Aye. But he’ll never be better and she already knows from the doctors that he will just grow worse and weaker and then die as a wee lad,” Bonnie whispered.

“You think that’s why your father started drinking.”

“Aye, it would have broken something inside him, to have to do that to one of his own bairns. But if he didn’t, why didn’t they wait until we were home from school to bury him. At least let us see the baby and give the angel a kiss goodbye. Everyone does you know.”

Claire’s hand shook inside Bonnie’s. She had been the one to hold the pan to catch Bonnie’s little son when he was born dead. A result of the horrible beating Tarn Michael’s had given her. She leaned into her friend, nestled her head on her shoulder. It was Jim who brought the crying girls to their senses.

“Hey, aren’t you ever going to put out the fire and come to bed. The dogs won’t stay out when you’re not in the tent.”

Bonnie blew her nose, hugged her friend who laughed and blew her own. Bonnie stood blustering, calling out and snapping her fingers. “Tip, Tyler, here, now.”

The guilty dogs shot out of the tent, their coats shimmering like silk in the firelight as they shook before crouching, heads lowered to the woman’s big boots. “You two rascals know better than that. What am I going to do to you?”

The dogs looked up, brown eyes pleading at the woman shaking her finger over their head. One whined first, Claire thought Tip, since he seemed to be the leader of the pair’s antics, then the other whined an apology as well. Laughing, Bonnie bent to fondle and tug at the shepherd’s folded ears until they were upright triangles again. The two followed their mistress to the mouth of the tent and then flopped down at the entrance as she disappeared inside.

<><><>

Claire woke late, in a grouchy mood. She had gone to bed feeling sad for all Bonnie’s troubles, even for poor Bella. No wonder the woman had always been so sharp and bad tempered. At least since Barney came, she had seemed to mellow and grow more human, less witch-like.

Henry emerged from their wagon as though called by Claire’s thoughts. When Bonnie handed him a plate of biscuits and gravy, he took it, then waited for his tin cup of coffee. “Where’s the rest of your family, this beautiful morning?” Bonnie asked.

Henry looked as gloomy as ever as he took a tentative sip of the steaming brew. “Rough night. Barney has been having trouble with all the dust.”

Father handed his empty plate to Claire and held his cup out for her to warm up the coffee that was left. “Sorry, Henry, if I had realized how hard it was on the child, I would have set you two at the front of the train. Maybe I can talk to the other wagoneers, see if they have any objection to giving you the lead every day.”

Henry sat down, rested his cup on the bench beside him and dug into his breakfast. After swallowing he said, “Nonsense, you know it would just start a big war. Some people, like the Raglons, are always looking for something to fuss and complain about.”

Claire looked across at him in surprise. Some people would say the same of the Lambtons.

“Well, from now on, you can go in front of us. I know it’s just one wagon closer, but maybe it will help.”

Bella came down the steps without her son. Apparently he was finally asleep. “Then that will mean another day before we are the first wagon. What kind of deal is that?”

“Of course, when I reach the back, I would let you go on to the lead,” Father said.

“And all of us have to listen to that screeching cow, Kaye Raglon. No thanks,” Bella said.

Henry looked ready to argue, then threw up his hands and stalked off. Claire knew there were the oxen to water and harness, and all the other chores of getting the wagon train in motion. But as she looked at Bella and the sour look she gave him, she doubted it was an eagerness to work that sent him running. The woman was always nagging him about something. Claire closed her eyes and pulled her string of beads from her pocket. While she mindlessly turned the beads through her fingers, she said another prayer.

<><><>

Bonnie poured coffee and served biscuits and gravy before preparing the food for their noon stop. Claire wondered if she were praying for the miserable couple, too.

Claire lifted both buckets and turned to follow Henry’s retreat toward the river. He would pretend to ignore her, as usual. But she knew if she called out, he would rush to help her before Father, or Tom and Jim, could reach her.

For a moment she almost resumed her silly thoughts from the night before. But under the soft light of the new morning, they felt very foolish. She had no idea about love, was determined not to let it lead her toward any rash behavior or wrong decisions. Look at poor Bonnie. She had raved about being in love, about how wonderful, how awesome a man he was. Then, last night, they both recalled the horror she lived through as she learned the man, Tarn Michaels, was really a demon. Claire knew the girl better than anyone. Had Bonnie learned her lesson and given up on true love? No, she had confided in Claire before that she spent each night dreaming about an unattainable man, this one in uniform.

Henry Lambton was married, but they could be friends. Both the Lambtons were her friends. Claire was determined to use her common sense to look elsewhere to find a man to marry. She was not going to covet another woman’s husband.

But when Claire moved forward to dip her first bucket in the clear water above where the animals were muddying the stream, she looked to the side to watch Henry. He had his trail clothes on, the bib overalls snapped over a gingham shirt hidden by a denim jacket. In the straw hat he could be any of the men moving along the wagon trail. She raised the full bucket and waited for the water she had stirred to settle before filling the next. In the pool she saw a dreamy, blue-eyed girl, with her loose blonde curly hair floating around her shoulders. For an instant, Claire wasn’t sure if it was her reflection.

When she looked up, she saw Henry staring at her. His eyes were troubled as he studied her and Claire’s heart began to pound furiously in her chest. When he smiled, she bent down to scoop the second bucket quickly. Someone behind her was complaining, impatient to be next.

Moving too quickly, she sloshed water on the hem of her travel dress. Trembling, she held the buckets out farther and tried to steady her gait. Maybe she wasn’t so smart after all.