Wagon Train Christmas

  Wagon Train Christmas

  Linda Ford

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Epilogue

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  1

  Bent’s Fort, 1848

  Sophia Lorenzo was about to step from her room on the second level of Bent’s Fort when she glimpsed a familiar figure approaching… the wagon master from the wagon train that had recently arrived… a friend of her now-dead husband. She drew back into the shadows of her room, her heart pounding, and waited for the man to pass. She held little Maxie to her shoulder. “Shh. Shh.” But her son wanted to go outside to play and he chattered excitedly. At just over a year old, he liked to be on his feet, moving about.

  I’m Greta Stern now and Maxie is Cole, she reminded herself. She’d picked the names out of the air, though likely she’d heard them somewhere in the past.

  Buck Williams stopped at the sound of Maxie’s voice. “Someone sounds happy,” he called from outside the room.

  Sophia wished she’d thought to close the door but she hadn’t expected to see him. Since the arrival a few days ago of the travelers and traders on the wagon train he’d guided from Independence, Missouri, he spent most of his time with the men outside the Fort by the wagon train.

  “Yes.” She spoke quietly, hoping he would move on. “He’s good-natured.” At least she was alone in the room that she shared with her wee son so no one would wonder at her strange behavior.

  “That’s nice.” His boots thudded as he continued on by and she remembered to breathe.

  She waited, would have retreated to the far corner of her small quarters and stayed there, except Maxie was restless and needed some fresh air.

  Clutching her son to her chest, she eased to the door and peeked around the corner. Buck Williams was gone. He must have ducked into the clerk’s quarters. Taking in a deep, steadying breath, she left her room and turned the other direction toward the stairs at the end of the line of rooms. The fort had thick adobe walls that she thought offered her protection. But now her fears saw danger in every shadow.

  She descended to the courtyard and joined the others, feeling certain Buck would ignore the knot of women.

  Her friend Mary Mae, who had recently arrived on the wagon train guided by Buck, welcomed her. “What took you so long, Greta?” Mary Mae knew of the circumstances causing Sophia to use a false name and had promised to respect her reasons, as had her sister, Donna Grace. Sophia couldn’t say if their husbands also knew and would likewise keep their silence on the matter. She could only hope and pray it was so.

  Sophia did her best to compose her face and keep her voice calm while all the time, her nerves twanged with tension. “Takes a few minutes to collect myself and get Cole organized. He is an expert at squirming.” He did just that to prove her words and she set him on his feet. He toddled after the other children on unsteady legs. He’d only learned to walk a few weeks ago, a month before his first birthday, and just before she’d fled Santa Fe.

  The women were discussing Christmas activities, but Sophia paid little attention. She had positioned herself so she could keep her eyes on the clerk’s room on the upper level.

  Buck stepped out and paused to look about. His gaze rested on the women.

  Sophia ducked her head, needing to check on Maxie, but even more, needing to keep her face hidden from the man. She did not want him to show the least interest in her.

  Sophia turned so she could watch him out of the corner of her eyes.

  He descended the steps at the far end and appeared to be headed for the carpenter’s shop.

  She began to relax and pay attention to what Mary Mae said. “Polly is set on enjoying every Christmas tradition she’s ever heard of and I declare she must have asked everyone she knows how they celebrate. She has a very long list.” Mary Mae sighed, but Sophia didn’t believe for a minute that her friend was put out by the demands of the little girl she and her husband, Warren, had adopted.

  Sophia was about to say so when she noticed Buck angling across the open square on a path that would bring him directly toward the women. She looked about, hoping for some excuse to leave, but Maxie played contentedly with Donna Grace’s little daughter, Anna, who was only slightly older. He would protest loudly if she snatched him up and hurried away.

  Instead, she went to the pair of children and squatted down as if examining what they were doing. From her position she could see Buck’s booted feet approach and pause at her side. She kept her face toward the ground as her heart beat frantically. Please, go away. Please, think you’re mistaken in wondering if you recognize me.

  The boots took one step. Then two. “Ladies,” Buck said. “Nice to see you enjoying the mild weather.”

  Mary Mae answered. “I’m hoping it doesn’t snow again, but Polly is praying it does.”

  The others laughed, but Sophia could barely keep balanced on her heels. Her head pounded.

  She heard footsteps fading away and allowed herself to shift enough to make sure it was Buck. Yes, thank goodness, he strode off, heading out the wide doors and out of the fort. She could only hope and pray he would go back to the wagons and stay there.

  Slowly she straightened and rejoined the others.

  Mary Mae gave her a long look. “Do you know him?” she whispered.

  “He was a friend of Maximillian’s. I’m afraid he will recognize me.” She pulled her shawl tighter around her, but it did nothing to stop the chill chasing up and down her body. She lifted the shawl over her head and drew it around her face.

  Mary Mae eased her away from the others. “What are you going to do?”

  “Hide in my room until he leaves?” Sophia said with a great deal of irony. “I’d be tempted to do exactly that, but Cole—” she must remember to use that name for her son “—would not like it.”

  “I don’t see how you how you can avoid him.” Mary Mae looked past Sophia. Sophia spun about fearing Buck had slipped back into the fort without her knowing. She needed eyes in the back of her head to feel safe.

  “I must do something. Cole, say goodbye to Anna. We have to go back to our room.”

  Cole ignored her. He didn’t always recognize his new name and she didn’t risk calling him Maxie to get his attention. Instead, she squatted down and touched his shoulder. “Tell Anna goodbye.”

  He stuck out his chin, ready to resist and looking very much like his father. Heaven help her, she couldn’t hide his resemblance to Maximillian.

  She picked up her little son. “I’m hoping he’ll have a nap. All the noise at night has been keeping him awake.”

  Polly bounced up to her. “But aren’t the posadas exciting?”

  “I like a procession as much as anyone,” Sophia admitted. She’d seen many in her years in Santa Fe. “So does Cole.” She lifted the boy to her arms.

  He threw back his head and arched his back in protest.

  She could hardly blame him. It was too early for his customary nap, but she wouldn’t be able to relax until she could pull the door closed against any curious stares. Ignoring his whining, she carried him back to their room. The fire in the corner glowed warmly. The dirt floor had been sprinkled to keep the dust down.

  She let Maxie run around the room, playing with the tin cup and spoon he favored as toys, while she sank to the thick buffalo robe and collected her thoughts.

  The fort was a safe place for now, but she couldn’t stay forever. Nor could she avoid Buck forever.

  She’d join the first wagon train going west or east. Which wouldn’t be anytime soon
with winter upon them.

  But even if she could escape without Buck discovering her identity, how long could she run and hope to hide?

  * * *

  Later, after Maxie had napped, she put his warm sweater on him and wrapped her shawl about her head, tucking it tight under her chin. It half hid her face and was the only way she could think to disguise herself. She peeked out the door. With no sign of Buck in the square below, she gathered up her courage and went in search of the other ladies. They had gathered at the trade room.

  Young Polly examined a selection of knives. “I want to get a gift for Warren.”

  Donna Grace fingered some calico. “I need to make Elena Rose some new garments. She’s growing so fast.” Her little daughter had been born on the journey on the Santa Fe Trail.

  Sophia let the conversation about making or purchasing Christmas gifts roll over her. She had no money for gifts. Hopefully, Maxie was too young to realize how sparse their celebration would be. A stab of guilt reminded her that she might be causing her son undue hardship, but she couldn’t consider the alternative.

  The ladies completed their purchases and returned outside to the warm afternoon sun.

  Sophia put Maxie down to follow Polly and Anna.

  She studied those in the fort, but with so much activity it was hard to keep an eye on everyone. Though she only cared about one person—Buck. Make that two. Her nerves were always twitching with the knowledge that her in-laws would certainly be trying to find her. They wanted to take Maxie from her, having deemed her poverty as reason she didn’t deserve to raise him. “He is a Lorenzo and should enjoy all the privileges that name can give him,” she’d been informed shortly after she’d laid her husband—Maximillian Lorenzo—to rest.

  Maxie saw the fort cat across the square and toddled toward it.

  “Watch out,” a strident voice called. Several men raced toward the gate. A woman scurried under the protection of the overhanging roof.

  Sophia jerked about to see the cause of the commotion. A riderless horse bolted into the enclosed square, head down, snorting and kicking. He continued on at a furious pace.

  Her lungs fought for air as she perceived the danger. Where was Maxie? She located her son. Right in the path of the raging animal. He was going to be trampled. She gathered her skirts and raced toward him.

  The horse bounded toward Maxie, blinded with its own terror.

  Sophia knew her feet moved, she felt the shawl blow from her head. The ground struck at her heels, but it seemed she was frozen, unable to reach her son.

  “Maxie,” she wailed, her insides ablaze with fear.

  The stomping hooves were surely going to reach her son before she could rescue him. They were only inches from striking him.

  Arms snatched him from the path of the horse. The animal thundered past, snorting. Spittle spattered her face.

  She didn’t slow her feet until she reached her son and pulled him from the arms of his rescuer. “Maxie, Maxie,” she crooned, holding him tight.

  Her legs crumpled and the man caught her.

  “Steady now. Take a deep breath.”

  She did so. Her legs regained their strength and she put several inches between her and the man, embarrassed to have practically collapsed in his arms. When she could force her mouth to work, she looked up at him. “Thank you for—”

  She couldn’t finish as she stared into Buck’s eyes. She swallowed hard as she pulled her shawl back into place. “Thank you for rescuing him.” She kept her voice low and her head bent.

  “I know you,” he said.

  She shook her head. “You must be mistaken.”

  “You called him Maxie.”

  “It’s only a nickname.”

  Buck bent to look at her son. “He looks like his father.”

  “I don’t see how you can know that.” She turned her back to Buck and hurried back to the others.

  Mary Mae had observed the situation and pulled her close, hiding her from Buck’s view.

  Sophia did not need to look his direction to see if he watched her. He knew who she was. Her stomach knotted. Fear clutched at her throat. She tightened the shawl around her face though there seemed little point in trying to hide her identity now.

  “I must hide from him,” she murmured to Mary Mae.

  “I don’t see how that is possible,” her friend whispered. “Why don’t you tell him the truth? He’s a good, honorable man. He would understand.”

  If only Sophia could believe that. But she’d never forget his warning to Maximillian before they’d married. “You could do better. She’ll pull you down.”

  She shuddered. How could she trust a man who shared her in-laws’ opinion of her? She couldn’t. How was she to avoid him until she could escape?

  * * *

  Buck watched the young woman huddle next to Mary Mae. He had no doubt of who she was—Sophia Morgan. She was the girl whose mother took in boarders. She worked at the home of the Lorenzo family. Last he’d seen of her, his friend Maximillian had decided to marry her.

  Buck had advised against it, knowing it was only a form of rebellion on Maximillian’s part. Max had always resented the responsibilities his name and position forced upon him.

  Upon his arrival at Bent’s Fort he’d seen the woman who went by the name of Greta. Buck had been suspicious of her identity. He would have recognized those blue-green eyes anywhere. Her dark blonde hair was the same. Even the challenging expression on her face hadn’t changed, and yet he’d doubted himself. Different name. Different place. Was it possible two people looked that much alike?

  Hearing her call the little boy Maxie and then seeing the child up close had erased any doubt of who she really was. The boy was practically a mirror image of Maximillian.

  Why was she pretending to be someone else, and where was Max?

  Somehow he would get to the bottom of this. He owed it to Max for the friendship they shared and how that friendship had pulled Buck from his despair.

  It would mean finding her without the others. He left the fort knowing now was not the time. He returned to the wagons he’d guided across the Santa Fe Trail from Independence. The original plan had been to take them to Santa Fe, but winter made crossing the mountains too perilous and things had changed. Sam had died, leaving Polly in Warren’s care. Luke and Warren and their new wives had decided to go to California and settle down. Even Gil, his faithful scout, had married and planned to accompany the others west.

  Buck wandered past the wagons, greeting the teamsters.

  He wasn’t sure what his future held. He could likely sign up another bunch of wagons and guide them. He’d been taking his meals with the teamsters, but now told Frenchie he’d be joining the others eating in the dining room of the fort.

  “You no like our food?” the big man said.

  “There’s something I need to take care of.”

  “There be a lady? Eh?” He laughed.

  Buck chuckled. Frenchie would be surprised to know it was because of a lady, but not for the reasons he thought. He bade the man farewell and went further along. A group of Arapaho Indians camped close to the river. He’d had dealings with them before and had become friends with a young couple. He spent a few minutes visiting with them and then, judging it to be time for the evening meal, he made his way back to the fort. If he could time his arrival right, he could enter the dining room after the others were seated, making it impossible for Sophia to avoid him. He might even find a spot close to her.

  Inside the fort, the Mexican women prepared meals for their families over the open fire. One looked up as he strode by and smiled.

  He ducked into the dining room, inhaled the delicious aromas of roast venison, fresh bread, and something spicy, all with a thick overlay of smoke. St. Vrain and William Bent called to him to join them. He hesitated, saw Sophia crowded in with the other women. Even across the table from them there wasn’t enough room for another person, so he waved and accepted the invitation.

 
; “That little girl is determined to make Christmas the best she’s ever had,” the man to Buck’s right said.

  Buck guessed they meant young Polly who had been campaigning for a special Christmas since the wagon train left Independence.

  “Sounds like a decent idea,” another man said.

  Buck positioned himself in such a way that he could see Sophia.

  She glanced up and their gazes connected across the distance. He saw defiance and something else before she bent to feed the baby.

  Buck tried to think what he’d seen. It bothered him to acknowledge it had been fear.

  He saw no point in studying the top of her head and shifted his attention to the little one on her knee. The boy was old enough to walk, though his gait was a bit unsteady. He’d put the boy at about a year.

  St. Vrain diverted Buck’s attention and they discussed the weather.

  When Buck looked up again, Sophia was gone. He excused himself and hurried from the table. Mary Mae watched him with a guarded look. She knew something. Would she tell him if he asked? He doubted it.

  He stepped from the room and looked about. He didn’t see Sophia anywhere. He reasoned she had not had time to reach the second level and escape into her room. He leaned against the nearest upright and prepared to wait. Sooner or later she must leave her hiding place.

  His shoulder still rested against the post when the others left the dining room.

  The Mexicans, many of the teamsters, and many others joined in a procession that started at the gate and circled the open square with music, singing, and much noise.

  Buck shifted his stance so he could watch the spectators. When he saw Sophia slip from the kitchen, he began to slowly make his way in that direction, finding it relatively easy to remain hidden behind the others.

  He arrived unnoticed at her side as she looked anxiously to where he had been standing. He leaned close to murmur in her ear. “Why are you pretending to be someone other than Sophia?”