Baby On The Oregon Trail
New Year, new family!Heading west, pregnant widow Jenna Borland’s life surely can’t get any more complicated – until fate throws Lee Carver across her path. She resents his help, but she needs him to drive her wagon over the Great Plains.Lee can’t fathom why this prickly woman gets under his skin. But as the journey brings these two outsiders together, he wonders if Jenna and her baby could be just what he needs to begin a new life and a brand new family!
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New Year, new family!
Heading West, pregnant widow Jenna Borland’s life surely can’t get any more complicated—until fate throws Lee Carver across her path. She resents his help, but she needs him to drive her wagon over the Great Plains.
Lee can’t fathom why this prickly woman gets under his skin. But as the journey brings these two outsiders together, he wonders if Jenna and her baby could be just what he needs to begin a new life with a brand-new family!
Lee pulled her close, holding her as if she were made of flower petals.
Jenna didn’t want this dance to end. She wanted to keep her eyes closed and keep moving in Lee’s arms.
But of course it had to end. She was acting like a silly addlepated girl, and she would never be that young again. She was wiser now. She knew better than to let herself become involved with a man. It never turned out the way you thought it would.
The musicians began to pack up their instruments and the crowd thinned and then began to disperse.
Lee kept her hand in his and they started back to the wagons. They had not spoken to each other all evening—had not needed to. But there were things that had to be said out loud, and it was going to be tonight.
My great-grandparents came to Oregon in a covered wagon along the Oregon Trail from Independence, Missouri, to Oregon City and the Willamette Valley. Great-grandfather Edgar Boessen was an immigrant from Germany; Great-grandmother Maia Bruhn came from Denmark. Their descendants now number in the thousands.
There is an old, very romantic family story about how Edgar and Maia met and fell in love; I’m sure it’s probably little different from hundreds of other treasured family tales. I hope you will find Jenna’s story, told here, is one that touches your heart.
Typical of those intrepid travellers who came west on the Oregon Trail is the following diary entry:
Friday, October 27. Arrived at Oregon City at the falls of the Willamette.
Saturday, October 28. Went to work.
—James W. Nesmith, 1843
LYNNA BANNING combines her lifelong love of history and literature in a satisfying career as a writer. Born in Oregon, she graduated from Scripps College and embarked on a career as an editor and technical writer, and later as a high school English teacher. She enjoys hearing from her readers. You may write to her directly at PO Box 324, Felton, CA 95018, USA, email her at [email protected] or visit Lynna’s website at lynnabanning.net.
Books by Lynna Banning
Mills & Boon Historical Romance
One Starry Christmas
‘Hark the Harried Angels’
The Scout
High Country Hero Smoke River Bride Templar Knight, Forbidden Bride The Lone Sheriff Wild West Christmas
‘Christmas in Smoke River’
Dreaming of a Western Christmas
‘His Christmas Belle’
Smoke River Family
Western Spring Weddings
‘The City Girl and the Rancher’
Printer in Petticoats
Her Sheriff Bodyguard Baby on the Oregon Trail
Visit the Author Profile page
at millsandboon.co.uk for more titles.
To those from the many countries that make up America who have had the courage to forge new paths and start new lives.
Contents
Oregon Trail, 1867
“Miz Borland?”
Jenna smoothed the threadbare apron over her swelling belly and turned to see Sam Lincoln, the wagon train leader. The big man removed his stained leather hat and stood uncertainly beside the wagon.
“Hello, Sam. Would you join us for supper?”
“No, thanks. I—” His sunburned face looked strained, and suddenly Jenna’s breath jerked inward.
“Sam? What is it?”
He turned the hat brim around and around in his hands. “Don’t rightly know how to say it.”
Oh, God. Something had happened. “Is it about one of the girls? Ruthie?”
The leader took a step closer. “Not the girls, no.”
“Mathias?” she whispered.
“’Fraid so. He’s...well, he’s been shot.”
“Shot!” Jenna closed her eyes. Surely she was dreaming.
Sam stepped forward and laid both his weathered hands on her forearms. “He’s dead, Jenna.”
She felt suddenly cold, as if all the blood in her body was draining away. “What?”
“He was caught stealing a horse. The owner killed him.”
She pulled away from Sam’s steadying grip and abruptly sat down on the bare ground. Dead? It wasn’t possible. And stealing a horse? It made no sense.
“Where is he?” she asked, her voice unsteady.
“In our wagon. My Emma’s, uh, laying him out. I expect you’ll want to see him.”
