Page 141 of Conveniently Wed
“I’m afraid I’ve never had many opportunities to cook. I’ve enjoyed it when I was given the chance though.”
“Pshaw. I figure a pretty little lady like you would have all the opportunities ya wanted.”
She didn’t have the energy tonight to explore that statement completely, but it sounded wrought with irony.
“Ere ya from the East, then?”
“Yes, sir. From Richmond, Virginia.”
He let out a low whistle. “Yer parents must be awful worried about ya travelin’ so far. And methinks it’s a mite rougher here than what yer accustomed to.”
“Both of my parents have died.” Tears didn’t immediately spring to her eyes anymore, but it was still hard to talk about them. She missed Mama and Papa so much it ached.
He was quiet for a moment. “Awful sorry to hear that.”
She cleared her throat, ready to change the topic. “So tell me about yourself. Have you always run a freight wagon?”
“No, ma’am. Used to be a trapper, back in the day. Ran with the best o’ the mountain men, I did. Jedediah Smith, Jim Clyman, an’ that ol’ coot Hugh Glass. Now there’s a story worth tellin’. D’ya ever hear it before?”
She shook her head. None of the names sounded familiar, but she knew from the tales he’d told in the wagon that Ol’ Mose was a master story-teller. So she settled back against one of thegreenlogs and prepared for a good one.
“Well, ol’ Hugh was on one of Mr. Henry’s trappins.” His eyes came to life. “Hugh had gone on ahead and got in a tussle with a she-bear protectin’ her cubs. He finally got the upper hand with only his knife, but by the time the she-bear was layin’ on the ground, so was Glass. He was knocked out an’ bleedin’ an’ on his last breath when the rest found him.
“Well they kept awaitin’ fer the ol’ coon to die, and the Injuns was gettin’ closer. Finally, Mr. Henry asked fer a couple men to stay with Glass and bury him proper once he finally expired. Said he’d give them an extra six month’s pay. Bridger was just a young fellow then—seventeen, I think—so he and Fitzgerald volunteered.
“The Injuns got closer an’ those boys got nervouser, an’ ol’ Glass just kept on barely breathin’. They went ahead an’ dug his grave and finally decided to lay him in the hole, cover him with the bear hide, and saved their own necks.”
Ol’ Mose positioned a skillet on the rocks at the edge of the fire, then poured a thick batter into the pan.
“When ol’ Hugh woke up, he found hisself under that hide without a stick o’ clothes or gun or knife, either. He had a broke leg and was missin’ so much skin ya could see clear through to his rib bones in spots.
“He was awful sick, too. But ol’ Hugh didn’t let that keep ‘im down. He set his own broke leg and wrapped hisself in that hide, then started crawlin’. Took him six weeks, but he crawled all the way to the Cheyenne River. Ate berries an’ roots an’ whatever meat he could scare t’other animals away from. Said the only thing that kept him goin’ was the thought of gettin’ back at those two varmints that left ‘im in that grave to die. Anyways, when he made it to the river, he sailed right down to a Sioux camp, an’ they doctored him up. Finally made it to Fort Kiowa a bit later.”
Silence settled over them as she took in the shocking tale. It was hard to know how much could possibly be true. In the pan, the batter began to turn golden. Finally, she asked, “Did he ever find the men who left him for dead?”
Ol’ Mose breathed a soft chuckle. “Funny thing that. He found both the men separately, but didn’t end up killin’ either one of ‘em. He gave reasons why he didn’t, but I’d like to think it was God workin’ on his heart, softenin’ him up for forgiveness.”
Leah glanced at her new friend. He’d mentioned God a few times through the day, but this was the first time he’d said anything overtly religious. “You sound like you have some experience with forgiveness.”
“Yes, ma’am. I ain’t always had the nicest things done to me, but I ain’t always done ‘em to others, neither. God gave me an awful lot o’ forgiveness so’s I could learn how to pass it on.”
For a few minutes, they stared at the fire in silence. Then Mose reached to pull the frying pan from the coals and began dishing out plates of beans and cornbread. He didn’t speak again until he handed Leah a tin plate and spoon.
“So you said you’re here to stay with some friends, did ye?”
How much should she tell him? She trusted this man, and something about him made her suspect he wouldn’t think badly of her for answering a newspaper advertisement for marriage. She might as well be honest.
“In a way. I’ve responded to an ad for a young rancher seeking a bride.” She found herself rushing through the words to get them over with.
He looked thoughtful as he munched a mouthful of beans. “What’s his name? Might be I know him an’ can tell ya if he’s a good sort.”
Relief washed through her. Not only did he not judge her, but he was offering to help. “His name is Abel Bryant of the Bryant Ranch. Have you heard of him?”
Ol’ Mose’s beard split into a grin. “Sure do. Gideon an’ Abel run the ranch now that their pa’s passed. Couldn’t find better boys in the whole Montana Territory.” He nodded with a certainty that made Leah release a long breath.
Maybe things wouldn’t turn out so bad after all.
9
