Journey of Hope: A Novel of Triumph and Heartbreak on the Oregon Trail in 1852 Read Online Free PDF

violently.
    “I’m taking her back to her wagon so she can get some dry clothes on,” Brenna said.
    “Come here, Mary,” Ben scooped her up in his arms. Brenna looked at him gratefully.
    “Next time, stay closer to the camp,” he said, glancing at Brenna and moving off toward the wagons.
    Brenna flushed darkly. Her relief turned into irritation as she tried to keep up with Ben’s long strides. She was still composing a scathing retort to his insensitive comment when they neared the Benson’s wagon. Rebecca hurried towards them, her eyes taking in the girl who looked happy and warm in Ben’s arms.
    “She fell in the creek,” he said, setting Mary down.
    “Thanks, Ben. I’ll get her dry,” Rebecca said, smiling warmly up at him.
    “I’m not cold anymore,” Mary said, looking adoringly at Ben.
    “Good! I’ll come back and check on you later,” He said, pulling one of her braids playfully.
    “Please do,” Rebecca said, giving Ben a dazzling smile. Then she turned and helped Mary to the back of the wagon. Brenna took all of this in, realizing that Rebecca was flirting with Ben. Ben, however, seemed oblivious. He turned to Brenna.
    “What were you doing down there?” he asked, but his clenched jaw belied the casual tone of his voice. Brenna blinked twice, and then exclaimed, “The laundry! I left it there!” She turned and started back to the creek when Ben grabbed her arm.
    “You’re not going back there alone,” he said matter-of-factly. “I’ll go with you.” The two of them walked together back to the spot where the laundry lay on the creek bank. Brenna gathered it up with the soap and the washboard. She was glad for Ben’s company. The encounter with the Indian had unnerved her.
    “Thanks, Ben; I’m glad you came along when you did. The Indian seemed friendly, and I’m grateful he was there to help Mary, but he still scared me,” she said solemnly.
    “I watched you two heading down here. I wanted to tell you not to go far, but I figured you knew better.” Brenna felt her face flushing again.
    “I was looking for a shallow place to do the laundry. I wasn’t expecting to see any Indians!” she retorted angrily. He stepped in front of her, put his strong hands on her forearms, and shook her gently. His eyes, normally a light blue, were dark.
    “You need to be more vigilant,” he said tensely. “You’re not in your backyard in New York City anymore. We don’t know anything about these Indians. Count yourself lucky that this one was friendly.”
    Brenna looked up into his eyes. She had never been so close to him before. He seemed different—not the easy-going Ben she thought she knew. His gaze was intense and unblinking as his hands squeezed her arms tightly. “Promise me that next time you’ll think twice before doing something so foolish.”
    Brenna angrily wrenched herself away, her heart pounding. Her electric blue eyes seemed to shoot sparks as she gave him a venomous look. “I’m not responsible to you, Ben Hansson,” she shot back at him. “Who appointed you as my protector?” Her heart was pounding, and she struggled to control her voice. “Don’t you worry about me. I can take care of myself.” She stomped off toward camp. Ben watched her rigid back as she walked away from him and he slowly exhaled and relaxed his clenched fists.
    The rest of the day was uneventful, but the news of the Indian encounter spread like wildfire through the camp. That night, Mary entertained the travelers with a much-exaggerated version of the story. Brenna watched in amazement as Mary acted out in great detail her near-death experience and the heroic rescue from the dark native. Brenna observed the girl’s animated face in the firelight. She was a born actress. Someone else was watching Mary intently. Brenna looked at Conor. He was engrossed in Mary’s story. She smiled, thinking that maybe he wouldn’t be so aloof towards Mary anymore.
    Then she saw Ben sitting behind Conor. He