Free Land of My Heart by Tracie Peterson

LEFT ST. LOUIS IN A MISTY SPRING RAIN, SOMETHING Dianne thought rather quaint and almost fitting. At least for the first few miles. After that, the mist turned into a steady rain that drenched everyone in misery.
    Betsy and Ardith rode with their mother in the wagon while Dianne struggled to keep her footing and guide the oxen. She followed behind Morgan’s wagon, watching constantly for any sign of complications. Twice they forded small shallow streams, and Dianne’s discomfort was complete as her leather boots became soggy with water.
    The next day was somewhat better, although Dianne learned an important lesson about campfires. While her brothers tended the milk cows for her, Dianne worked to assemble some breakfast. Their mother lay in the wagon, sick with a stomach complaint, so Dianne made her first real attempt at cooking.
    Taking the bacon, as she’d often seen her mother do, Dianne positioned it in the cast-iron skillet and balanced the pan on some stones Zane had arranged for her at the fire’s edge. Feeling rather proud of her ingenuity, Dianne then gathered eggs from the chickens, grateful to see they were still laying, and proceeded to scramble them in a bowl.
    “That’s a real waste,” a male voice announced from behind her.
    Dianne looked up from her work to find Cole Selby scowling at her. “What are you talking about?”
    “You. Wasting eggs on breakfast.”
    “It’s not a waste. My brothers and sisters are hungry. This won’t even make a good portion.”
    “You could have fed them three times over and used half the number of eggs by making flapjacks. You’ll have to learn sooner or later that life on the trail is all about making do and doing without.”
    Dianne stood up indignantly. “I think not.” She whirled around so quickly she didn’t even realize she’d edged too close to the fire. In moments the hem of her skirt was aflame, and she screamed out in panic.
    Before she could take another step, however, Cole Selby picked up the blanket she had shared with her sisters the night before and wrapped it neatly around her legs. He beat at her as if trying to pound the dust from a cushion.
    “You’re going to have to learn about campfires too,” he said, checking to see if the fire was extinguished.
    Trying her best to hide her embarrassment, Dianne examined the scorched hem and sighed. “Thank you for your help,” she said, biting back a sarcastic reply. The man might be infuriating, but he had saved her life.
    He nodded, not offering her so much as a smile. “Where’s your mother? Why isn’t she taking care of this?”
    Gone were any feelings of generosity Dianne might have had for the man. She stretched herself up to her full height and replied, “She’s resting, not that it’s any of your concern. Fixing breakfast is my job, and I’m fully capable of—” Just then the bacon burst into flames. Dianne’s eyes widened in shock. “Oh no!” As she rushed to remedy the situation, she kicked over the bowl of eggs. Now caught between tragedies, she looked back to Cole, knowing he would have something to say about the matter.
    He appeared for a moment to be trying to contain a smile. Once under control, however, he turned to go. “Like I said, it’s a real waste.”
    Dianne’s lessons on life on the trail had just begun.
    The newspaper date read April 19, 1864, when the wagon train pulled into Independence, Missouri. Dianne felt a thrill she’d not ever known in her life. For the most part, the days spent in travel from St. Louis to Independence had been exhilarating, almost pleasurable. Although her feet ached and bore blisters from her time spent walking, Dianne thought nothing could have been more exciting.
    They’d added a few families along the way, but Mr. Keefer had told her mother that they would add enough wagons and families at Independence to push their number into the hundreds. She couldn’t even begin to imagine. Just the string of some twenty wagons heading west