Barrows thought he had every right to take a woman too weak or small to fight back. Her father resented having to take care of three helpless women, when his only son had died at birth. And Rourke. Rourke had warned her to watch out for Carrie. But how much could she do? Feeling drained, she poured a cup of coffee.
“Food’s ready,” she said listlessly.
“I’m not hungry.” Turning away, Carrie stared around the enclosed fort, her arms wrapped tightly about herself.
“Eat something, child,” Violet urged.
“No.” Taking a blanket from the wagon, Carrie wrapped it around her shoulders and sat down beside the fire. Things weren’t going to change, she thought. Nothing ever changed. Except the landscape. They had gone from a miserable existence on a hardscrabble farm to a more miserable existence here in the wilderness. She swallowed back the tears that threatened. Abby never cried. Abby endured. Like a mule, Carrie thought angrily, then immediately regretted the thought. If it hadn’t been for her sister, Flint Barrows would have …
Filling a plate, Abby set it in front of Carrie, then filled a second plate for herself. She ate mechanically, her mind working frantically. Without her father’s cooperation, they would never be able to go to Mordecai Stump and have Flint Barrows removed from the train. The men made the decisions around here. The women were forced to live with those decisions.
At least now they knew what sort of animal Flint Barrows was. They would have to become more vigilant. From now on, besides the dangerous trail, the river crossings, the Indians, there would be another danger. But this one was far from unknown. And probably far more dangerous.
* * *
The respite at Fort Kearny left everyone in the train except the Markets more cheerful. The women had a chance to wash and sew and take on fresh supplies. The men had time to repair their harnesses and wagons and swap stories around the campfire. But when the wagon train made ready to pull out at dawn on the third day, the Market wagon was nearly left behind.
James had spent the second day of their stopover sleeping off the effects of the liquor. By evening, he was back at the trading post, sharing a bottle with Flint Barrows. When James brought up the subject of his youngest daughter, Flint suggested that she was nothing more than a little temptress.
“Flaunted herself in front of me, James, and asked me to come up in the wagon and help her move something.”
Market downed his drink and poured another generous amount. “I thought as much.”
“When she threw her arms around my neck, I figured the girl had gone crazy as a loon.” Flint leaned forward, giving his friend a conspiratorial wink. “Girls that age get strange notions. Want to test them on any poor fool who comes along.”
James nodded. “She and that sister of mine. Always sitting around talking about kings and princes and castles and such. Useless.” He made a fist and pounded it on the table, causing several men to glance his way. “I’ve had enough of all that. From now on those two are going to pull their share. It’s time they found out what real life is like.”
Flint signaled for another bottle and filled their glasses. “I’d be glad to take your youngest into my wagon. She could be a help to my wife. The baby’s due in another month or two.”
Market gave him a narrowed look. It was tempting. Especially if Barrows was willing to pay him for Carrie’s services. But then he thought about the gossip that would ensue. “I ain’t giving away any of mine. She can earn her keep with us. And by God she’ll learn what it is to work.”
The entire Market family learned to work together the following morning.
Abby had managed to harness the team while Aunt Vi and Carrie prepared breakfast. When James crawled from between the blankets, his head aching, his stomach rolling, they discovered a broken axle. Mordecai Stump was so angry, he threatened
“Food’s ready,” she said listlessly.
“I’m not hungry.” Turning away, Carrie stared around the enclosed fort, her arms wrapped tightly about herself.
“Eat something, child,” Violet urged.
“No.” Taking a blanket from the wagon, Carrie wrapped it around her shoulders and sat down beside the fire. Things weren’t going to change, she thought. Nothing ever changed. Except the landscape. They had gone from a miserable existence on a hardscrabble farm to a more miserable existence here in the wilderness. She swallowed back the tears that threatened. Abby never cried. Abby endured. Like a mule, Carrie thought angrily, then immediately regretted the thought. If it hadn’t been for her sister, Flint Barrows would have …
Filling a plate, Abby set it in front of Carrie, then filled a second plate for herself. She ate mechanically, her mind working frantically. Without her father’s cooperation, they would never be able to go to Mordecai Stump and have Flint Barrows removed from the train. The men made the decisions around here. The women were forced to live with those decisions.
At least now they knew what sort of animal Flint Barrows was. They would have to become more vigilant. From now on, besides the dangerous trail, the river crossings, the Indians, there would be another danger. But this one was far from unknown. And probably far more dangerous.
* * *
The respite at Fort Kearny left everyone in the train except the Markets more cheerful. The women had a chance to wash and sew and take on fresh supplies. The men had time to repair their harnesses and wagons and swap stories around the campfire. But when the wagon train made ready to pull out at dawn on the third day, the Market wagon was nearly left behind.
James had spent the second day of their stopover sleeping off the effects of the liquor. By evening, he was back at the trading post, sharing a bottle with Flint Barrows. When James brought up the subject of his youngest daughter, Flint suggested that she was nothing more than a little temptress.
“Flaunted herself in front of me, James, and asked me to come up in the wagon and help her move something.”
Market downed his drink and poured another generous amount. “I thought as much.”
“When she threw her arms around my neck, I figured the girl had gone crazy as a loon.” Flint leaned forward, giving his friend a conspiratorial wink. “Girls that age get strange notions. Want to test them on any poor fool who comes along.”
James nodded. “She and that sister of mine. Always sitting around talking about kings and princes and castles and such. Useless.” He made a fist and pounded it on the table, causing several men to glance his way. “I’ve had enough of all that. From now on those two are going to pull their share. It’s time they found out what real life is like.”
Flint signaled for another bottle and filled their glasses. “I’d be glad to take your youngest into my wagon. She could be a help to my wife. The baby’s due in another month or two.”
Market gave him a narrowed look. It was tempting. Especially if Barrows was willing to pay him for Carrie’s services. But then he thought about the gossip that would ensue. “I ain’t giving away any of mine. She can earn her keep with us. And by God she’ll learn what it is to work.”
The entire Market family learned to work together the following morning.
Abby had managed to harness the team while Aunt Vi and Carrie prepared breakfast. When James crawled from between the blankets, his head aching, his stomach rolling, they discovered a broken axle. Mordecai Stump was so angry, he threatened
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