A Widow’s Bargain on the Oregon Trail – Extended Epilogue

1868

Bolton, Oregon

The sunlight streamed across freshly printed pages on Ada’s desk, turning them butter gold. She inhaled deeply, enjoying the scent of fresh ink and new paper. She picked up the nearest copy and held it high, scrutinizing it for printing errors or editing mistakes, even though she knew there would be none. Sullivan Press had one of the best editors in the business, no matter how overlooked she was because of her gender.

Frames on the walls held the most popular stories and illustrations they’d published over the last year and a half. Chloe had still been a babe in Ada’s arms when she opened these doors, all thanks to support from the family ranch and Aunt Temperance’s business savvy.

Many had said she wouldn’t last the month. Eighteen months later, Ada was still proving them wrong.

She replaced the fresh paper and scanned the framed articles with a smile. They covered every manner of news and opinions, all having only one thing in common: the bylines all belonged to women, proudly flaunting their first names. Here, the Carolines, Amys, and Louises of Oregon Territory and beyond had no reason to hide behind initials.

“You’ve done good work,” Ada said. “As usual.”

Mei Chen raised her head from behind the desk in the opposite corner. Seventeen now, she was nonetheless brighter than most people Ada knew, and she wielded her red pen with enthusiasm. “Thanks, Mrs. Brenner.”

The vase on the corner of her desk held fresh flowers, as usual. Tommy brought them by every evening when he came to walk her home. Mei held firm that she would marry him when the time was right; Tommy’s quiet devotion made it clear that he was willing to wait.

The thought made Ada smile with pride. Dan was raising a boy after his own heart.

A bell chimed as the front door swung open. “Afternoon, everybody!”

Ada turned, beaming. “Clara!”

Her friend swept into the publishing company, bringing with her a flurry of sunshine and the smell of flowers, as usual. Her baby gurgled on her hip and stretched out chubby hands to Ada.

“Hello, my little Joshua.” Ada scooped him into her arms. “How’s the sweetest boy in Bolton?”

“Naughty as can be!” Clara placed a wooden horse on wheels on the floor. “Angelic for his Auntie Ada, as usual.” Clara reached for a page on the desk, but it wasn’t the printed paper that caught her eye. Instead, she lifted the neatly bound manuscript Ada had left on her desk. No red pen marked it yet; in fact, no one had read it.

“‘A New Dawn,’” Clara read aloud, “‘My story of survival.’” She lowered the page. “Ada, is this …”

Ada set Joshua on the floor by his horse. “My story.”

Clara’s eyes shone. “You finally wrote it.”

“It was time.”

Clara read the byline. “‘By Ada Brenner.’ You’re publishing it under your own name?”

“And keeping no secrets. It tells everything … everything about the way Fletcher treated me. Even about how he treated Sarah, she asked me to hold nothing back. But it’s about more than that, too. It’s not Fletcher’s story. It’s mine.” Ada smiled. “I wrote about leaving St. Louis and heading on the trail alone, finding out about Chloe, marrying Dan, and all the wonderful things he did for me. I wrote about what life is like in Bolton with the family I love so much. I want women to know that they’re not alone if they’re being treated the way that I was—and that there can be a future for them.”

Clara gripped her hand fiercely. “This story matters, Ada. Other women need to know that.”

Ada squeezed her fingers. “Thank you.”

“Have you heard anything more? About Fletcher and the others?”

Ada shrugged. “As far as I know, they’re all still in prison. Long may they remain there.”

Mei’s expression was solemn as she laid her red pen aside. “Mrs. Brenner?”

“Yes, dear?”

“I want to read it,” Mei said softly. “I think every woman would.” 

The serious understanding on her face struck a chord with Ada. “Then we’ll publish it in next week’s paper. It can go under that vicious pen of yours tomorrow, Mei.” She smiled. “For now, we have something much more fun to look forward to.”

“We do!” Clara beamed and held up a basket. “I picked up the extra powdered sugar you needed.”

Ada scooped Joshua and his horse from the floor. “Let’s go!”

“I’ll come by a little later,” said Mei with a shy smile. “Tommy said he’d come to walk us over later.”

Ada handed the baby to his mother and locked the door behind Mei, then paused for a moment to read the sign over the door. Sullivan Press. She was a proud Brenner now, but every time she read her maiden name over her business, she thought of her parents and smiled.

***

Martha Brenner strode around the kitchen in the ever-growing wooden house that presided over the ranch her family had tended for decades. She hurried from table to stovetop, wielding a wooden spoon with alacrity, regularly stepping over the angelic little toddler sitting on the floor.

“Mama’s home!” Ada called as she entered the kitchen.

Chloe flew to her feet and ran to Ada, little arms outstretched.

“There’s my birthday girl!” Ada swept her up and showered her chubby cheeks with kisses. “Have you been a good girl today?”

“She sure has.” Rebecca Brenner, Jake’s wife, looked up from where she rocked her own baby by the fire. “She didn’t put a foot wrong.”

“Listened to her grammy, too.” Martha smiled indulgently. “Ada, would you taste my stew? I think it needs a little somethin’.”

“Ha!” Clara joined Rebecca by the fire. “Never.”

“Your food never needs anything, Martha.” Ada delicately tasted the spoon Martha offered. “Mmm! This is no exception. Perfect.”

Martha beamed. “Sarah’s in the front room. Henry’s here, too. Would ya take this tea tray to ’em?”

Ada raised her eyebrows. “He is?”

Martha’s smile widened. “Sure is. Sam and Jake are still outside with Dan, finishin’ up in the barn.”

“How are old Maggie’s legs today?”

“Not too bad, Dan says. Feelin’ much better after that liniment.”

“Good.” Ada picked up the tray.

She headed into the front room with its huge window overlooking the beauty of the Oregon ranch: pine trees dotting the green pastures that covered the rolling hills. The barn nestled at the hill’s feet, and the thought of seeing Dan in a moment made Ada’s heart skip, even though she’d woken beside him that morning.

Sarah sat by the window, her silhouette grown curvaceous and healthy. She smiled up at Ada as she entered. The haunted shadows had faded from her eyes, but Henry Walsh’s hand still rested several inches away from hers at the table. The widower had a few gray streaks and a few ghosts of his own, but he exuded gentleness, and Ada knew it had no small part to play in the full, unguarded quality of Sarah’s smile.

“You’re home,” said Sarah.

“Just in time. Chloe’s guests will be here any minute.” Ada slid the tea tray onto the table. “Enjoy the last few moments of peace while you have them.”

Henry chuckled. “Peace? Sarah wouldn’t be teachin’ Bolton’s children to read if that were what she wanted.”

“Listen to you.” Sarah laughed. “Those children are my favorite thing about this town.”

“When they’re not bouncing off the ceiling.” Henry winked.

Sarah and Ada exchanged a glance that told Ada everything: how much Sarah loved teaching, how much her heart had already healed, how Henry would never replace William but had nonetheless given her hope for the future. Neither of them needed to say a word to understand these things. The bond between them was lush with understanding.

A loud crash came from the kitchen, and with it, a joyous squeal from Chloe.

“The Daltons are here.” Sarah laughed.

When Ada returned to the kitchen, the Dalton children had spilled inside, all four of them, a happy mass that swept Chloe up into their joyful chaos. Emma took the toddler’s hand and protected her as the rambunctious boys bounded around, pretending to shoot at each other with sticks.

“Bam!” James yelled. “I got you, Fletcher!”

“I want to be Dan this time,” Samuel complained. “You be Fletcher.”

“Whatever you all want to be, go do it outside!” Ruth laughed. “You’ll run us all off our feet in this kitchen.”

The children flowed toward the door in a happy tide that came to a sharp halt when more guests arrived: Tommy, with the Chens close behind him. The boy wore his hair short these days and dressed sharp in a flannel shirt, denim pants, and a shiny belt buckle he’d won roping. 

“Tommyyyyyyyy!” Chloe flung her arms and legs around his left leg.

“Oh, no! I’m bein’ dragged down!” Tommy cried dramatically, limping around with Chloe clinging to his leg as she shrieked in delight. Mei giggled, watching with shining eyes.

“Molly!” Ada hugged Ruth first, then the younger woman. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Sorry we’re a bit late,” said Molly, guiding her elderly father to a seat by the fire. “There was a line around the block for the new fabric that came in from China yesterday. We couldn’t keep up with the demand.”

“Molly, that’s wonderful! I’m glad your shop is so busy.”

Mr. Chen seized Molly’s hand and gazed up at her, his eyes gleaming with pride. “That’s my girl.” He patted her hand. “That’s my girl.”

“Thank you, Baba.” Molly kissed the top of his head.

“Stew’s ready!” Martha snatched it off the stove. “Where are all those men of ours?”

“I’ll go and look for them.” Ada stepped outside.

After the crowded kitchen, the fall air was shockingly crisp. Trees glowed gold alongside the green fields, surrounding the barn with a yellow glow. In the distance, Mount Hood raised its white head over the landscape. This view never failed to accelerate Ada’s pulse.

She was about to call Dan’s name when the barn doors opened and he strolled up the hill toward her, wiping his hands on a rug, his clothes spotted with sawdust and sweat.

“Papaaaaa!” Chloe shrieked.

She broke away from the other children and toddled across the barnyard toward him on shaky legs. His face lit up, his smile catching in Ada’s chest, and swept her into his arms. Then he spun the child around and around until she screamed with delight.

He held her upside down under one arm, her shrieks and giggles filling the air, and his eyes found Ada’s across the grassy space. The look he gave her still made her breath hitch. Her heart felt too full for the love, wonder, and gratitude that swelled within it.

This life they had built was more than she could comprehend. More than she had ever dared hope for.

***

It was late when Ada found Dan in the barn that night.

Their guests had all gone, and Chloe was fast asleep in her little bed, hugging the doll Martha had given her as a birthday gift, utterly worn out from a day of sheer joy. When Ada had emerged from Chloe’s room after putting her to bed, she’d found the house quiet except for Sarah and Henry, still chatting quietly in the front room.

Now, she closed the barn door behind her and followed the glow of a single lantern between the stalls on either side of the aisle. A white face protruded over a stall door on her right, and a delicate pink nose pressed against her shoulder.

“Evening, big fella.” Ada rubbed Firestorm’s forehead. “How are you?”

He huffed hay-scented breath in her hair. She cupped his muzzle in her hands and shamelessly kissed it.

Beside him, Jane held out her soft nose for attention. Ada fed her a piece of carrot from her apron pocket. The mule affectionately pressed her head against Ada’s chest, and she rubbed her coarse mane, leaning a cheek against the broad forehead.

“Nearly done in here,” Dan murmured, his voice as much a part of the peace of this place as the smell of hay, leather, and horses. “Just finishin’ up. You coulda gone to bed, darlin’.”

“I wanted to see if you needed any help.” Ada proceeded to the next stall and peered over the door.

Maggie slumbered where she stood, her graying muzzle low to the straw, ears contentedly tipped to the sides. The mark where months of constantly wearing a halter had rubbed her nose bare was pure white against her dark skin. Ada stroked it, the old mule’s ears barely twitching in response.

“Been through a lot, haven’t you, old girl?” she murmured.

“We all have.” Dan crouched beside Maggie’s legs, rubbing an herbal-scented liniment into the gnarled joints. “Came through it all to greener pastures, didn’t we?”

“That’s true.” Ada smiled.

She felt a kick of happy anticipation in her chest as Dan finished his work and wiped his hands on a rag. She’d been waiting for this moment all day, but there just hadn’t been any time alone.

Until now.

Dan petted Maggie’s neck and let himself out of the stall. His blue-gray eyes found hers, and she tilted her chin back, meeting them fully.

There wasn’t a need for many words. There seldom was, between them.

“You been quiet today,” he murmured.

Of course, he knew. He always knew.

Ada moved closer to him and took his hand, her ink-stained fingers curling around his workworn ones. A question rose in his eyes, but Ada didn’t answer it out loud. Instead, she took his hand in both of hers, spreading it, and placed it gently on her abdomen. Low down. Right where she felt the same sickness as last time, except that joy accompanied it instead of terror.

The moment took her back to the wagon trail. To the woman she had been then, pregnant and alone, terrified out of her wits. She had been utterly certain, then, that her life was over.

How wrong she had been. Her life had not yet begun. That would only come a few days later, when she found her future in the soft eyes of an outrider who seldom said anything, yet was always watching.

Now, those same eyes creased as his brow furrowed in confusion. His gaze dipped to her hands, then rose to her face.

She smiled.

His eyes widened as realization dawned. The hope in them was almost overpowering as he searched her face for confirmation.

Ada couldn’t hold back her smile. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes.” Her throat closed as joyful tears blurred her eyes.

This time, there was no fear. No terror. No secrets. Only joy and the certain knowledge that this child would be born into love. Into celebration.

Dan pulled her into his arms, surrounding her with a warm embrace that smelled of wholesomeness, of pine shavings, leather, and hard work. Ada buried her face in his chest and twined her fingers into his thick hair the same way she had done that first time she kissed him by lantern light in the middle of nowhere. He pressed his face into her hair, his shoulders shaking.

She realized that he was crying, and she knew that the tears matched that hitching feeling she’d had in her chest earlier that day. Love, wonder, joy, gratitude. Delight that seemed too much for a human heart to hold.

When he pulled back, his smile radiant, he still didn’t say anything. What mere words could stand up to a moment like this? He cupped her face in his hands, and the tenderness in his touch said everything that they couldn’t.

The air was thick with promise, and Ada realized everything that the new little life in her signified.

Another beginning. Another blessing.

Another chance to get it right.

THE END