Chapter 17
It wasn’t until the moon had risen and the sky was turning a deep blue that Ben finally pulled the wagon over. “I think it’s about time for us to get some rest.”
“You don’t sound very excited about it,” Hattie noted.
He glanced over his shoulder, something he’d done at least every mile or two since they’d made it through the pass. “I’d like to be as far away from those Natives as possible. I’ve also got to make this trip fast. There’s hardly any food at the orphanage.”
He was always thinking of others. Hattie wasn’t sure how she’d managed to pair herself up with someone who was so selfless, someone who seemed to be the complete opposite of her. “There’s some level ground just up here.”
“It’s too open,” he said with a shake of his head, slowing the rig down a little as he peered into the woods on either side of them. “Level ground is good, and it isn’t as though I can keep us completely hidden, but I’d rather not draw any attention if possible.”
They moved on for at least another mile or so before Hattie spotted the group of cedars. With nothing but the light of the moon, they were a patch of blackness against the snow. “How about there?”
“Perfect. Good job, Hattie.” He turned the wagon off the road.
Despite the cold, she felt a flush of warmth at his compliment. Hattie privately chastised herself for caring at all what Ben thought. She’d only gotten in the back of the wagon because she couldn’t stay at the orphanage any longer. No matter who was leaving the valley, she’d have gone with them.
The sleigh runners bumped over the uneven ground. Hattie pointed ahead. “I don’t think we’ll make it between those two trees.” They stood on either side of their makeshift trail, tall and sturdy.
“Sure, we will.” Ben guided the horses with the barest touch of his hand, first to the left and then to the right. The wagon slid between them with less than an inch on either side.
“How does an orphan know how to do something like that?” Hattie asked.
Ben let out a short laugh. “What does being an orphan have to do with it at all?” They’d slipped into the shelter of the cedars, and Ben jumped down into the snow.
“Well, I don’t know.” Hattie noticed him coming around to her side.
She quickly hopped down so that he wouldn’t have the chance to be a gentleman and help her, even though she’d teased him about it before.
“I suppose I figured orphans didn’t know much about the world at all if they’ve been locked up in a big house their whole lives. ”
“As you’ve seen—or I suppose, heard—the orphans at St. Thomas aren’t locked up at all. They get out. They work in the garden. They do chores. They learn to cook and clean, and they go on supply runs. That was always one of my favorite things to do as a boy, so I learned to drive a wagon early on.”
He unhooked the horses and brought them around behind the wagon, tying them loosely in the shelter of the cedars. Then he began clearing a place on the ground with his boot.
“What else did you learn to do?” Hattie had told him enough about her own past, and she was happy to get back on the subject of his. “Any special talents or skills?”
He shrugged a little as he piled the snow on one side of the small clearing. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Did they teach you anything in the army, then? I’ve heard that men learn a lot about themselves while they’re in the service.”
Ben didn’t answer for a long moment. The silence stretched between them, broken only by the sound of his boot sweeping through the snow. “They do,” he answered finally.
“Oscar was going to enlist. He said it was the greatest thing a man could do for his country, or something like that. I understood, but I still didn’t like the idea of him going off to war. But then—” Hattie stopped.
“Then what?” Ben asked.
“His, um, his father wouldn’t let him.” That was another small piece of the truth that was safe enough to reveal, but Hattie needed to be careful. “What can I do to help?”
“I need to start a fire. It’s going to be hell to find enough kindling, though.”
“I’ll get it,” she promised, stomping off into the woods that surrounded their little shelter.
She kicked through the snow, stirring up sticks. Hattie hadn’t meant to bring up Oscar. There was no reason to speak about him at all, but Ben really did remind her so much of him. It was his looks, of course. His pale hair had a similar texture, smooth and just a little wavy.
His cheekbones were high and prominent, although Oscar’s face had been a little more filled out. Oscar had never wanted for anything as he grew up.
It wasn’t just Ben’s physical features that made Hattie think of her former fiancé, either. It was the way he carried himself and the way he acted toward others. Oscar had been kind and patient with her. He cared about how she felt, and he listened to her troubles.
“He’s just a stubborn old man,” Hattie said, her hand behind her head as she looked up at the stars. She could feel the anger on her face in the set of her mouth.
Oscar was lying next to her, but he rolled onto his side to look down into her face. “If you wrinkle your forehead any deeper, I’ll have to start planting corn in it.” He traced the lines with his fingertip.
“Oh, stop! I’m serious!” But Hattie laughed as she swatted his hand away.
He tickled her side. Hattie jerked away, squealing, but she managed to swat him on his arm. Oscar grabbed her around the waist and pulled her toward him, nuzzling her neck and making her scream and laugh even more. They rolled on the grass, oblivious to their problems for the moment.
Eventually, when she caught her breath, she held her face in his hands. “Really, Oscar. I don’t know what we’re going to do. Papa’s keeping such a close eye on me that I can hardly get out of the house anymore.”
“He’s your father. He cares about you.”
“But he’s being ridiculous!” she countered, slightly insulted that Oscar could agree with Papa at all. Oscar was like that, though. He liked thinking about everyone else’s perspective. “What about your father? Have you told him?”
She hadn’t yet been brave enough to tell Papa.
He folded his lips in and pressed them tightly together. “I did.”
“And?” If both of their fathers were opposed to their engagement, then they’d have to run off somewhere and start anew without any help at all.
That was scary, but it would also mean nobody would have any input or control over their lives. They could go wherever they wanted and do anything. Hattie felt a swirl of excitement in her belly.
“He’s happy.”
“You don’t sound like you are.”
Oscar clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, something he often did when he was thinking. “I’m just concerned that he’s happy about it for the wrong reasons. You know how obsessed he is over that land deal.”
“They’re like two children fighting over a toy,” Hattie asserted. She’d had enough of her father’s sour moods.
“He might think that a marriage between us will change your father’s mind,” Oscar said glumly.
“Well, maybe it will.” She rolled over and kissed him. “And even if it doesn’t, then we still have each other.”
As Hattie carried her armload of sticks back to the wagon, she remembered what it was like to be warm and comfortable in Oscar’s arms. She’d never thought of herself as the kind of girl who needed to feel safe or be comforted, but she’d found that in Oscar nevertheless.
The most she could hope for tonight was not freezing to death or getting killed by ambushing Natives.
“Here you are.” She set the sticks down and began stacking them up in the cleared patch of ground.
“I can do that,” Ben offered. “I brought a little bit of firewood from the orphanage, so I think we’ll be all right for the night.”
“What else can I do, then?” She needed Ben to like her at least well enough to keep her with him. The mountains had already proven themselves to be far more difficult terrain than she’d anticipated when she’d decided to leave the security of the crawlspace.
“We’ll need to move some things out of the back of the wagon so you can sleep there tonight, but most of it is heavy. Let me get this started, and then I can help.” Ben grabbed a couple of pieces of firewood from the wagon.
“And where are you supposed to sleep?” Hattie asked. “Surely not on the snowy ground?”
He lit a match, which illuminated his frown. “I’ll figure something out.”
“Why don’t we both sleep in the wagon?” Hattie hoisted herself up on the tailgate. Ben had already pulled the tarp back partway to get to the firewood, but she rolled it further back. The wagon wheels took up the most space, so she grabbed one and began pulling it toward the tailgate.
“I couldn’t…I mean…I wouldn’t want…” Ben spluttered. He wasn’t paying attention to his fire, and the tiny flame extinguished itself. He lit another match and tried again.
“Be sensible, Ben.” Hattie struggled with the wheel as she hauled it off the tailgate.
She nearly dropped it on her foot as it slid down into the snow, and then she leaned it against the side of the vehicle.
“We’re out here in the middle of nowhere.
You’ve still got to get all the way to wherever it is your going—”
“Antelope Springs.” He said it too quickly, making his destination sound like the only thing that would save him from the ordeal of traveling with Hattie.
“Right. You’ve got to make it there and back, so you can’t just sleep on the ground and catch cold,” Hattie reasoned.
“I am building a fire.” He crouched down and blew on the flames, encouraging them to take. The fire was a risk, but it was a bigger risk not to have any heat source. Ben hoped the thick cedars would help keep the flames from being too obvious.
She could hear the warm sizzle of moisture being chased out of the kindling as steam.
Hattie hauled another wheel out of the wagon, but she used the remaining two to prop up the tarp so that it created a loose roof over the bed.
“Don’t you think everyone at the orphanage will be angry enough with me without your death hanging over my head? Come on.”
Hattie had created a cave on the wagon bed with the tarp. It extended out toward the tailgate, and already it was catching and holding a little bit of warmth from the fire.
Ben straightened. He hesitated, standing there between the wagon and the horses. Flames flickered over his features, and for a moment Hattie felt as though she could easily have been looking at Oscar instead of Ben.
“All right,” he finally relented. “I need to get up there anyway to get some food out.”
“Sure.” She clamped her lips together to hide her smile as she wriggled to one side so Ben could crawl in.
He dug around in the items that surrounded him until he found a small canvas bag. Ben handed her a bit of bread and cheese. “It’s not much, but it’ll keep our stomachs from rumbling.”
Hattie noticed he’d given her the larger share. “Trade me.”
“No.” Ben purposefully took a bite of his cheese. Then he gestured to the tarp suspended just a couple of feet over them. “So, is this what it was like for you in the crawlspace all this time?”
Hattie’s jaw went tight, but she supposed she deserved that. “There’s far less dirt, at least. Do you think the horses will be all right?”
“Well enough.” He looked out of the back of the wagon and across the campfire to where the horses stood sleeping under the trees. “I put some salve on the one that was hit with the arrow. I only wish I could’ve tended to it sooner, but it wasn’t safe to stop.”
“Are you justifying your medical care of a horse?” she teased. With every word, Ben proved to her how innocent he was. Every now and then, though, something flashed in his eyes that told her otherwise.
Ben didn’t owe her his life’s story. He didn’t owe her anything, but she wanted to pick him apart like a knot in a rope to see what he was made of. He intrigued her, though she couldn’t say why.
She finished off her bread and lay down with her feet toward the fire. It didn’t do much to warm them, but it could’ve been worse. “Here. There’s plenty of room for you to lay next to me.”
Ben had his arms wrapped around his knees, and his head hunched forward. “I should probably go add some wood to the fire.”
“It’s fine.”
“Actually, I could go sleep on the seat. You know, keep guard and everything.” He started to scoot toward the tailgate.
Hattie snagged his coat. “They say it’s best in these kinds of situations to stay together and share body heat. We’ve got very little heat as it is from the fire, so we shouldn’t waste it.”
He looked at the narrow strip of space available to him, which was right next to her. “I just don’t think it’s right.”
“If you freeze to death on the seat, then who’s going to take the food back to the orphanage?” she challenged. “I certainly don’t know the way.”
Letting out a grunt of frustration, Ben squirmed around until he lay next to her.
She wriggled a little so that she lay with her body along the length of his. Every muscle in his body stiffened. “Ben?”
“Hm?”
Hattie propped herself up on her elbow and tried to look down at him. With their heads so far under the canvas, she couldn’t read his face. “Haven’t you ever been this close to a girl?”
“Well, of course. I just don’t want to offend you. Is that so terrible?”
She smiled and lay back down. It was getting pleasurably warm under the tarp now. “No. It’s not terrible at all. I just don’t know why you’re so tightly wound.”
“I’m not,” he argued tersely. “I have a lot on my mind. We should get to sleep. We’ll need to get up early and head out again.”
“Right. Good night, Ben.”
He mumbled something unintelligible.
As Hattie lay there next to him, the two of them hidden away from the rest of the world, it was easy to pretend that he wasn’t Ben at all. He was Oscar, and they were running off to get married and start their lives together.
Several stabs of guilt pierced her heart, so Hattie washed the thought away. She hoped at the very least that Ben was enjoying lying there next to her as much as she liked lying next to him.