Free Clay by Ana Leigh

friendly. They offered her milk and eggs whenever she needed them.
    Blanche VonDieman suffered with a rasping cough, and they had sold their Pennsylvania farm to move to a drier, warmer climate in Southern California.
    Thank goodness she wasn’t surrounded by Rebels, Rebecca thought with satisfaction when the wagon train moved on after lunch.
    By late afternoon she had begun to feel the effects from the pull of the reins in her arms and shoulders. She was glad when the wagon master called a halt at six o’clock. Since there was no threat of hostile Indians in the area, the train remained stretched out. The livestock was put out to graze and names were drawn to guard the herd. On the whole, though, the animals appeared as tired as the travelers and content to just graze and sleep.
    Following the example of the others, Rebecca let her mules loose and gave them explicit instructions not to wander away from the rest of the herd. They looked at her calmly and then began to chew on the grass. She couldn’t understand why mules had such a bad reputation. The darlings hadn’t given her one bit of trouble all day.
    Shortly after halting, the outriders rode in, and Clay and Garth joined her. Rebecca was glad when Clay took the hatchet and went out to get her some firewood.
    Wood was already short in the area. Wagon trains had been passing through on their way West for over forty years, and the steady traffic following the Gold Rush in ’49 had increased drastically in the closing days of the war. Now the wagon trains leaving Independence waited only long enough between departures to allow the grass to grow enough for the oxen and mules to graze on.
    Since she was new to outdoor living, Rebecca didn’t prepare anything difficult for the evening meal. Once Garth had the fire built, she made a pot of coffee, baked biscuits, and then fried bacon. When the bacon was done, she fried sliced potatoes with chopped onions in the bacon grease, and offered a fresh apple for dessert.
    Pleased with herself, Rebecca thought the meal was very tasty. Clay must have thought so, too, since he didn’t make any derogatory remarks. She was almost hoping he would, so that she could tell him to go eat with the rest of the crew.
    After the meal was over, she set some dough to rise overnight so she could attempt to bake bread in the morning.
    By eight o’clock the camp had settled in for the evening, and some had even started to prepare for bed. Garth had joined some folks down the line who were listening to a banjo player, fiddler, and several men with mouth organs play some familiar tunes. Clay had stretched out near the campfire with his eyes closed.
    Rebecca lit a lantern and sat down in the rocking chair inside the wagon to read a cookbook that offered easy recipes for campfire cooking. If the bread turned out successfully tomorrow, she’d try a peach cobbler the day after. Having worked in a bakery, she looked forward to the challenge of baking in the small, threesided reflector oven.
    Unfortunately, the other challenge she had undertaken was not as satisfying. Her shoulders and arms were aching painfully, so she put the book aside and rubbed some unguent on her arms. Then she leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes. Oh, how she wished she could massage her shoulders! She was tempted to take the liniment over to the Garsons and ask one of the women to rub some across her back and shoulders, but they were sure to wonder why she didn’t ask her husband to do it.
    Rebecca opened her eyes and discovered Clay was standing at the rear of the wagon, his probing gaze on her. “Looks like you’re favoring your shoulders. Are they sore?”
    What did he think? He knew she’d never driven a mule team before. And she doubted he really cared how much they ached, anyway. This was just another way of goading her.
    “Just tired,” she said. “I’m going to bed.” She stood up and blew out the lantern. As he stepped away, she closed the flaps and