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  “Carrie Hughes,” Jo said giving her a hug. “You have been trailing around after Stephen since that day at Soda Springs when he drank too much and had a belly ache. It’s hardly surprising you want to look pretty at your first dance as a grown up.”

  Carrie glowed with pleasure at being called an adult.

  “Will Pa mind?’

  “Rick might find it a little difficult to let you grow up Carrie but he is not going to stand in the way of your happiness. He is protective of both you and Sarah – possibly even more than Nancy and Lena.”

  “I don’t understand why. The twins are little, they need him more.” Carrie knew Rick was protective but children needed more attention than adults.

  “We all need Rick in different ways. He feels responsible for you girls as your ma gave you into his care. You and Stephen need to be patient and sensible. Please don’t do anything to upset your pa.”

  Carrie saw the tears Jo was trying so hard to keep from falling. She gave her an impulsive hug.

  “We won’t, Ma. I promise.”

  Jo didn’t say anything but hugged Carrie very tightly for a couple of seconds before she let go and left the room. Carrie guessed she was going to wash her face. Jo didn’t like anyone to see her upset, least of all her husband.

  Carrie stared at her, a cold ball of fear in the pit of her stomach. She wished Grandma Della was due to call as she could always help make Jo feel better. But could Della help this time? Was Rick more seriously ill than she had first imagined?

  Chapter 8

  Della Thompson pulled up outside her daughter Becky’s home. She loved the large homestead almost as much as her own smaller place. Scott had built a large home, not least because he regularly had visitors who stayed for weeks at a time. Scott insisted that the way to living peacefully with the Indians was to have people on both sides of the argument get to know each other better. So he invited prominent people from politicians to newspapermen to stay. He then told them his story and introduced members of Paco’s tribe. His Indian family camped down near the river when they came down from the mountains, they didn’t like living in a house.

  Della smiled thinking of Paco’s first sight of the homestead. The Indian who wasn’t scared of anything refused to step inside. He kept telling Della and anyone else around, the roof would fall in on top of him. Scott, Rick, David, Paddy and some of the Indian Braves had carried Paco against his will and dumped him in the sitting room. It hadn’t changed Paco’s viewpoint and the Indian still resisted going inside. Paco had aged in the eight years they had been living in Oregon. Della could understand why, given how badly the Indians had been treated. Why was there so much hate in the world?

  She raised her hand in greeting to one of the ranch hands. She didn’t know his name, Scott tended to employ casual labor as and when he needed it. He preferred Indians to work with the horses. Della couldn’t see her grandchildren. They mustn’t have heard the wagon, otherwise, they would come running to see who was visiting. Becky was nowhere to be seen. Maybe she was resting although as soon as Della had the thought, she dismissed it. Ever since she was born, Becky had been moving. She never stayed in one place for long. Even when sitting down, her hands had to be working on something. Paddy used to say it was as if there was a fuse lit inside her which never went out. Della smiled at the reference. Becky had made a better life for herself than anyone could imagine. Back in Virgil, her daughter had imagined a life married to a rich man where she could be a lady of leisure or spend her days on horseback. As Della looked around at the evidence of her daughter’s hard work from the kitchen garden to the whitewashed picket fence, she could see how far from a lady of leisure her daughter had become. Despite their initial opposition and concerns, Scott Jones had turned out to be the perfect husband.

  Well almost. Della wished Scott didn’t want such a big family. Becky was pregnant again and she was worried about her. Two sets of twins in seven years were enough for any woman. She loved her grandchildren but she was scared for their future. She sighed deeply spotting the flag Scott had erected outside his barn. Oregon had joined the Union last year with the dubious honor of being the first state to join with an existing racial clause. Now with the talk of war in every newspaper, she was afraid. She’d thought she would never be as frightened as she had been on the Oregon trail eight years ago but this was a new fear.

  They had been through a lot since they first arrived, with the Indian wars and the financial crash of 57. But despite all the upheavals and bad news, her girls and their husbands had not only survived but prospered. All three girls were mothers of healthy children, had beautiful homes and good marriages. The only cloud on the horizon was Rick’s illness. At least that had been the only issue. Maybe they had been too lucky? Was there a price to be paid for all their good fortune?

  Now the newspapers were full of plans for war. Her son Stephen and the adopted grandson Almanzo were almost 18, they would be the first ones to go and fight should war break out.

  Della gave herself a mental shake. What was the point in inviting trouble? As her mother-in-law used to say, there was plenty enough bad things going to happen without inviting them to your door.

  Now was the time to concentrate on the things she could do. Becky needed her help whether she admitted it or not. She parked the wagon and got out wondering where everyone was. Usually, someone came to greet visitors but the porch was empty. She tied the horse to the rail before opening the front door, calling out a greeting. Silence answered. She walked quickly into the kitchen where Ruth, her six-year-old granddaughter was working at her letters.

  “Didn’t you hear me, child?”

  Ruth didn’t answer, nibbling at her lip as she traced the A on her slate. Della spoke to her again. This time Ruth looked up, squealed and ran to give Della a hug. Then she ran outside saying she was going to find her ma. Della stoked up the cooker and put the water on to boil. She was gasping for a cup of tea. While the water was boiling, Della moved toward the kitchen sink, spotting Becky a little way outside. She was looking at something in the distance.

  Becky looked up as the kitchen door opened and her ma came out. She gave her a big hug despite wondering why she was here. She hadn’t said she was coming to visit.

  “Is Pa all right?”

  “Yes, fine. Why?” Della asked but her eyes didn’t meet her daughter’s face.

  “Just wondered if there was anything wrong. It's not like you to turn up unannounced,” Becky said scrutinizing her ma. She looked tired but it was probably the heat. It was hard to sleep when it got so warm.

  “I came to see my family. I didn’t realize I needed an invitation,” Della snapped.

  “Ma! Don’t get all worked up. I am thrilled to see you. Now how about a cup of tea.”

  “Why don’t you take a seat on the swing and I will bring it out to you?”

  Becky looked at her ma closely. Her mother never suggested anyone sit down when there was so much work to be done. She had to weed and water the garden and the sun would be too high if she left it much longer.

  “Becky, sit a while. The garden and other chores can wait.”

  Becky sat more out of shock than anything. It was nice to get a little break. Constant nausea overtaking her body was making life more than a little uncomfortable. She sat back in the shade. If her ma wanted to fuss a little bit, who was she to stop her?

  Della didn’t take long to make the tea and brought it outside with a plate of cookies.

  “No thanks Ma, my belly isn’t feeling too good.”

  “Try them. They will help with the morning sickness. Mrs. Newland gave me the recipe and she should know.”

  In addition to running the store with her husband, Mrs. Newland had appointed herself as the midwife to the surrounding area. In most cases, the women preferred another woman to help birth the baby. They only called in Doc White if there were complications. Becky smiled.

  “What are you smiling at?”

  “Do you remember we told y
ou about the Indian who tried on Mrs. Newlands unmentionables. She whacked him across the face.”

  Della smiled. “She is some woman. Who would have guessed she’d become a force to be reckoned with. Rumor has it, she had a row with Mrs. Morgan last week.”

  “I dislike that woman intensely. What did Mrs. Newland do?’

  “She served an Indian woman who had been waiting in line. Mrs. Jarret thought she should be served first seeing as she is white.”

  “Good for Mrs. Newland. Although if anyone had said to me when we first got acquainted with her, she would turn into a friend, I would have laughed. Do you remember how she used to moan?” Becky asked rolling her eyes to heaven.

  “I remember. But I think it was because she was fearful of the future. Now she has friends and family around her, she has less to worry about.”

  “I don’t know about that, Ma. If she continues upsetting Mrs. Jarret and her cronies, she may find life gets more than uncomfortable.’

  “I hope she does keep doing exactly what she is doing,” Della said firmly. “I wish Mrs. Morgan would disappear and take her family with her. Did you know Edwin asked to marry Sarah? Rick said no, of course, but Jo is worried about it. She said Sarah wasn’t too happy.”

  Becky bit her lip suddenly feeling emotional. Tears weren’t far from her eyes which was so unusual for her, she found it really disconcerting.

  “Becky, what's wrong? Is it the baby?”

  “No Ma. I just get all teary all the time. It’s so annoying,” Becky answered.

  “It’s called pregnancy darling. What upset you? Sarah?”

  “Oh Ma, how did she turn out the way she did? She was a quiet sweet girl on the trail and she has turned into a …. Well I can't put it into words.”

  “She is a selfish little madam. I think Rick and Jo were too soft on her. I know it was difficult learning the truth about her da but there are those who have it worse. Almanzo for example.”

  “He has turned out to be a fine young man, hasn’t he. It’s a pity Sarah didn’t fall in love with him.” Becky bit her lip as she considered her niece.

  “Love works in mysterious ways. I just hope Sarah doesn't get carried away. Rick and Jo have enough on their minds.

  “What do you think is wrong with Rick, Ma? He doesn't look well and he seems to get tired so easily. I know Jo is worried sick.”

  “He keeps avoiding Doc White. I think Jo will put her foot down soon and either Rick will go into town or Doc White will call to the homestead.”

  “Do you think it's really serious, Ma?”

  Taking one look at her ma’s face, she didn’t need her ma to answer. It was written all over her. The tears came again but she brushed them away angrily.

  “Becky sweetheart, I think you should go back to bed. You look worn out. Why not let me help for a while?” Della said softly.

  “I will be grand, ma. You know me. Can't keep still for five minutes,” Becky said forcing a smile on her face. “Thank you for the tea.”

  “Well at least sit there and enjoy it in peace. I will make a start on dinner. Ruth can help me.”

  Becky didn’t remind her ma that her daughter was only six. Her ma had firm beliefs in children learning to help from a young age. Becky didn’t have the energy to fight with her ma or anyone else at the moment.

  She sat back in the swing and closed her eyes telling herself she would get up in a few minutes. Sometime later she woke to the sound of her son’s shrieks of laughter.

  Becky pushed her hair out of her eyes as she tried to focus on her son, Jake. Ruth’s twin was pushing the horse too fast as usual. She wanted to haul him off and hug him close but he would hate her for it. Although only six years old, he was fiercely independent. When she complained about it, Scott reminded her there were children barely older than Jake working full time in the big cities like New York.

  “Ruth Jones, if I have told you once, I told you a thousand times if a job is worth doing, it’s worth doing properly.” Della’s voice carried on the wind. Becky gave one last look in Jake’s direction before going inside to rescue his twin from her ma.

  “Ma, she’s only six. Leave her be.” Becky pulled a sniveling Ruth into her arms and gave her a cuddle.

  “She’s old enough to start learning. You have enough on your hands with four children and another on the way. You still look tired, Becky.”

  “Ma! I am fine. I am not ill, just pregnant,” Becky said trying but failing to hide her irritation.

  At Becky’s tone, Della looked upset. Della bent down toward Ruth and gave her granddaughters arm a squeeze. “I am sorry love, I didn’t mean to shout at you. I am in a bit of a heap this morning.”

  “What’s heap?” Ruth asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

  “Your gran is a little bit worried about your ma. She thinks I should rest more,” Becky said quickly trying to offset a string of questions from her daughter.

  “No you shouldn’t do that ma, you are getting fat. Soon you will look like Mrs. Porter.”

  Becky had to hide her smile from her daughter and judging by her ma’s quick turn, she did too.

  “Ruth, it's not nice to make comments about people,” Becky corrected her little girl.

  Ruth sniffed, turning her nose up. “I don’t like Mrs. Porter. She’s mean and says horrible things about Paco. He’s my friend. She isn’t. And she is fat,” Ruth said with conviction.

  Della burst out laughing even though Becky sent her a fierce look.

  “Ruth, sweetheart, I know you love Paco, but we can’t say nasty things about people we don’t like. It isn’t nice,” Della explained only to be interrupted by Ruth.

  “Ma calls Mr. Jarret a jumped up… What was the name you used ma?”

  Becky decided it was time to ignore Ruth or there was no knowing where the conversation would end up. Her ma was tidying the kitchen. It drove her nuts her ma always started working in the kitchen no matter how clean it was. She felt like a child again, being found wanting.

  “Ma, sit down and have another cup of tea before you drive me crazy.”

  Della Thompson opened her mouth but then closed it again. She glanced at Ruth. Becky took the hint.

  “Ruth can you take Annie and go check on the hen house. Your brother was supposed to clean it out but…”

  “I’ll do it, Ma,” Ruth said, putting her slate and chalk on the shelf.

  “No. I want Jake to do it but I need you to take care of Annie. Don’t let her play with the hens. They may peck her.”

  Becky waited until the girls were gone before sitting down. Despite her brave words, her legs were aching. It hadn’t been so long since she was pregnant, but she’d forgotten how tiring it was. She looked up in time to see her ma brush away a tear. Her ma never cried. Her stomach dropped as she took her ma’s hand. “Ma, what’s wrong?”

  “There’s nothing wrong. Can’t I just come see my daughter?”

  “Ma, tell me why you are so upset. Please,” Becky said softly.

  Della stayed quiet for so long, Becky was sure she was going to tell her someone was dying or had died. Horrible thoughts crowded through her mind. She was just about to say something when her ma spoke.

  “It’s your pa, he’s convinced there is going to be a war.”

  “With the Indians?” Becky asked a bit impatiently. “It’s been going on for years, why would it start worrying him now?”

  “Not with the Indians but between the North and South. I think he is making too much of it but you know he reads every newspaper he can get his hands on. He says it’s not a question of if but when.”

  “He is being ridiculous,” Becky said hotly. Her temper was shorter than usual, being pregnant in the heat didn’t help. She was relieved nobody was dying but her pa’s pessimistic attitude annoyed her. He was always thinking the worse. “Nobody wants a civil war in America.”

  “I don’t know if that’s true, Becky but your pa isn’t usually wrong about things. You know what he said about the
treaties and the Reservations. All of that is coming true as we know.”

  Becky stroked her ma’s hand absentmindedly. She didn’t want to think about the horrible things that had happened since they moved to Oregon. The upsurge in Indian attacks and the number of Indians killed by troops supported by local militia was too painful to contemplate. Scott, David, Rick and others like them had done all they could to help Paco and his tribe but it hadn’t been enough. Although Paco and his immediate family were safe, the same couldn’t be said for other members of the tribe. Some had joined the fight on the side of the Indians but more had been innocent victims of retaliation attacks. The hostility toward Indians was growing to the point most settlers wanted them forced onto reservations preferably miles away from Portland and the Willamette Valley. If the North and South went to war, what would happen with the Indians? The soldiers would be called to fight, wouldn’t they? A bolt of nausea hit Becky. Who else would be called up to fight? “Ma, what about Scott and the other men. They wouldn’t have to go fight in the war, would they?”

  “I don’t know, Becky. Your pa seems to think younger men would be called up first.”

  “Stephen? Oh no Ma, he wouldn’t. They couldn’t.” Becky almost begged her ma to tell her she was wrong. “ Oh my goodness, Almanzo too.”

  “I shouldn't have said anything. Maybe your pa is wrong this time.”

  “What’s Paddy wrong about?” Scott had come in while his mother in law was talking. He bent and kissed her on the cheek before greeting Becky as always with a butterfly kiss on her mouth.

  “Pa thinks there might be a war. Ma is worried about Stephen, Almanzo and the rest of the boys. You don’t think there will be a war, do you?” Becky looked up at her husband but he didn’t meet her gaze.

  “I don’t believe so. Look how quickly President Buchanan stepped in to prevent war with Britain.”

  Becky looked at Scott closely. He was deliberately avoiding her gaze making her suspect he was telling them something to make them feel better. She didn’t get a chance to pursue it as her ma interrupted.