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- Herausgeber: WS
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Serie: Walton Valley
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024
Riding the Santa Fe Trail is a difficult and lonely profession...especially for a girl named George.
Georgianna Walton's father sat her on the back of a horse the moment she could sit up straight. Ever since, they have traveled together from one side of the country to the other with no place to call home. With no mother to guide her, George has learned everything she knows from her father, Harry, but she wants nothing more than to settle down and have a place to call home.
Elijah Mitchell is traveling to Santa Fe to take up a position as a doctor. However, when Harry has an accident on the trail, Eli cannot leave him alone on the prairie. While he ministers to the cantankerous old man, his mother begins to teach George all the things her own mother could not.
She is a wild woman from the west...he is a very proper doctor from back east—can they form the unlikeliest of partnerships out in the wild, untamed Kansas prairie?
'His Wagon Train Sweetheart' is a Christian historical novella introducing the brand new 'Walton Valley' series.
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His Wagon Train Sweetheart
Wagon Train Wife Novella
Catherine Kennedy
Copyright © 2020 by Catherine Kennedy
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance of fictional characters to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in critical articles or a book review.
Editor: Sara Miller/Arnetta Jackson
Cover Design: Hannah Linder Designs
Contents
For my niece and nephews—Auntie Cheese might not have been able to see you as often as she wanted this year, but she has kept your names on her mind with every word written of this book.
We have different gifts, according to the grace given to each of us. If your gift is prophesying, then prophesy in accordance with your faith; if it is serving, then serve; if it is teaching, then teach; if it is to encourage, then give encouragement; if it is giving, then give generously; if it is to lead, do it diligently; if it is to show mercy, do it cheerfully.
Romans 12:6-8 (KJV)
Chapter One
Independence, Missouri – May, 1867
“You ever driven a team of oxen afore?” George Walton’s father, Harry asked the young man in front of him.
There wasn’t a chance the stranger got his hands dirty when he could pay someone to do the hard work for him.
“No, sir. I was hoping to hire someone with experience to do that for me.”
George smirked. She knew it. He wouldn’t last two minutes in Santa Fe with his stiff, formal clothes that perfectly matched his stuffy personality.
“George here will work for you.”
She turned, waiting for the inevitable response. From the back, she looked just like everyone else who worked the wagon trains. Her clothes were serviceable and of a nondescript color from too many washes in various rivers and streams. Not that endless cleaning ever quite got rid of the trail dust. From the front, however, no one would mistake her for a young man.
“But…but…he’s a girl.”
George lifted one eyebrow contemptuously while her father guffawed beside her, slapping his hat against his leg. “That’s right, I am a girl. So pleased you’ve noticed. Now we have that out of the way, let’s talk about what you have, what you don’t have, and what you will need in order to make the journey.”
The rich man with the smooth accent that screamed of wealth and privilege frowned at her. “What we have, what we don’t…”
George blew out a breath, making no effort to hide her frustration. “Your equipment and provisions. Everything you will need to make the trip.”
“You don’t provide a wagon?”
She closed her eyes and reached deep for patience. She’d taken greenhorns along the Santa Fe trail before, but this man had to be the most naïve, ridiculous fool she’d met in a long time. At the sound of his deep laugh, she snapped open her eyes. “Very funny.”
“I am not a complete novice. My mother and I got here from Boston without mishap.” He stuck out a hand. “I am Elijah Mitchell.”
George wiped her hand on her thigh before completing the handshake. His hand was as soft as she had expected, but firm which was a shock—she’d expected something weak and halfhearted. She swallowed to hide her surprise. “Pleased to meet ya.”
He turned and beckoned an older woman to his side. “This is my mother, Grace Mitchell.”
George fought the urge to curtsy to the other woman. She was an absolute picture of elegance. Dark hair, threaded through with streaks of grey, was pinned into an elaborate style. Her clothes were neat and tidy with not a speck of dust or dirt to be seen. Queen Victoria could not have made George any more nervous. Women like this plain intimidated her.
“Mama,” Elijah was now saying. “This is…um…Miss George.”
“It is a real pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”
Mrs. Mitchell clasped George’s proffered hand in both of hers. “I am delighted to meet you, dear.”
George looked around the camp, hoping inspiration would strike and a refined topic of conversation would spring to her mind. However, as her life comprised riding reluctant oxen through creeks, hunting for wild game, and other such pursuits, she couldn’t think of a single topic she could confidently speak on.
“Georgianna,” she said eventually, then felt heat rising in her cheeks. “That is…my name is Georgianna Walton.”
Grace Mitchell nodded seriously, as though George had shared something incredibly important with her. “Have you worked on wagon trains long?”
“Ever since I can remember.” George stared at Grace wistfully and wished she knew how to twist her hair into an elegant style. The only people she knew who wore their hair the same way she did were little girls and Indians.
“And you are to drive our wagon for us?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I expect we shall become very good friends along the way,” Grace said, smiling kindly. “My son is a doctor, so he will probably be too busy to keep company with me.”
It was true enough that if there was anyone with any level of doctoring skills on a wagon train, they were usually occupied with accidents, outbreaks of disease, and the odd childbirth along the way.
George looked over at Eli, she supposed having such soft hands helped if he was a doctor. But then, what did she know? She was unschooled and knew only what her father had taught her, and what she had picked up from people she had met on previous wagon trains.
“Yes, ma’am.” George nodded and repeated her earlier phrase. She had no idea what the correct response was to such a lady suggesting they be friends.
“We leave in the morning, is that correct?” Eli asked.
“I’ll find my pa so you can settle things with him,” George said. “First light, the bugle will sound, and we will leave. With or without you.”
“We will be here,” he assured her.
That knowledge gave George a funny sensation in her tummy, as though she was traveling downhill in the back of a wagon that was going too fast. Exciting at first, but followed quickly by a certainty the trip would end in disaster.
It wasn’t like her to have such fanciful thoughts. She moved off to find her father before being near the Mitchells caused her to have any other ridiculous notions.
He was a rich doctor from Boston and she was a woman who only knew how to relate to men who did the same work she did. She had no business noticing how his demeanor gave the impression of being steadfast and unflappable—both worthy qualities for the grueling trip ahead. Or how his dark hair made his blue eyes seem so bright and clear.
Funny how she had no idea what color his mother’s eyes were.
***The next morning, before it was light, Elijah and his mother arrived at the campsite they had visited the previous afternoon to secure their passage to Santa Fe. Although trading still thrived in the town, more people were settling there with their families. An old friend worked as a doctor there and had suggested Eli join him as he could promise plenty of work. Eli was only too happy to get himself and his mother out of Boston and as far away as possible.
“Are you certain you want to do this, Mama? There is still time for us to change our plans.” Eli did not know what the journey would be like, but he had heard enough cautionary tales that made him wary of what lay ahead—particularly for his mother.
“There is nothing for us in Boston and nothing for us here. You have a future in Santa Fe. I want nothing more than to be there with you.”
“I believe you are coming because you are hoping for grandchildren.”
His mother laughed. Eli wished he had cause to hear that sound more often—neither of them had much cause for merriment lately. “I would be a terrible grandmother if I were in Boston and my grandbabies were on the other side of the country.”
“I intend to build my practice, Mother. There will be no babies any time soon I’m afraid.”
“Very well, dear.” Grace nodded. “I am quite content to wait a year or two.”
Eli smiled indulgently. His mother deserved all the good things in life, including being surrounded by a passel of adoring grandchildren.
If only the burden for fulfilling that particular desire didn’t fall so heavily on his shoulders. Though, for all they knew, his brother Isaac could have any number of children by now. However, he had not been seen for over six years and despite the advertisements Eli had placed in several newspapers, Isaac had not returned home for their father’s funeral.
“Let us find our wagon,” Eli suggested. “And we shall begin our new adventure.”
Grace nodded her agreement, but Eli could sense her reticence. It had worried her when they left Boston that if Isaac turned up, they would no longer be in their old home. He would have no way of finding them. Privately, Eli did not believe his brother was still alive. Surely, he would not have allowed his parents to suffer years of worry over his wellbeing if he were still living.
Some minutes later, they found their wagon, which Eli had painstakingly packed the previous afternoon. His mother wanted her sewing to be easily accessible, and he required his medical equipment to be handy, should the need arise. They had brought with them very few items from their old home, they had sold most of the furniture to settle his father’s debts and to pay their way to Santa Fe.
“Mornin’.” George inclined her head at Eli. “Ma’am.”
She looked almost shy when addressing his mother, as though she was afraid of saying the wrong thing. Her glossy black hair was pulled into two braids which hung down her back, an enormous hat sat on top of her head. Eli had met no one quite like George in his life.
“How are you this morning?” he asked.
“Ready to get on the trail,” George said, glancing his way. “The sitting around waiting to set off is always the worst part. I’m happier when I’m busy.”
“Don’t you tire of following the same route backwards and forwards?”
“No two journeys are ever the same,” she told him. “There’s always something new to see, something different to experience.”
Yet there was something in the tone of her voice that told him there was something she was hiding.
The bugle sounded before he could say any more, and excited chatter rose around them.
Two young men approached him and introduced themselves. “Joshua and Noah Prescott. Looks like we will be traveling alongside you.”
“Pleased to meet you. I’m Eli Mitchell, this is my mother, Mrs. Grace Mitchell, and Miss George is driving our wagon.”
George wrinkled her nose at the introduction but said nothing. She gave both newcomers a polite nod.
The younger of the two men, Noah, peered at George curiously before seeming satisfied she was in fact a girl, nodded and turned back to Eli. “Why are you traveling out west?”
“I’m a doctor,” Eli said. “I have a job offer in Santa Fe. What about you fellows?”
Noah shrugged. “Adventure, I guess.”
“We can turn our hand to most things. We don’t necessarily intend to travel all the way to Santa Fe. Things are changin’ in this country of ours and we’re looking to experience as much as we can.” Josh looked over at Grace, before turning back to Eli. “Say, I don’t suppose your mama would let us eat with you if we could put meat in the pot?”
Eli grinned. “Thought you said you could turn your hand to most things.”
“Ain’t no man that likes cooking,” Noah said with feeling.
“There aren’t too many women who like washing and mending clothes,” Grace said, giving both young men an appraising look.
The younger man blushed. “I meant no disrespect, ma’am.”
“None taken.” Grace looked toward the wagons that had already started out, then back to Eli.
