Westering Women

by Sandra Dallas

  The soldier glanced at them and grew bold. He turned to William. “You got took, sir. She ain’t no old maid.”

  “He lies.”

  The women turned to see who had defended Maggie. For a moment, Maggie thought it was Mary, but Mary had taken Clara to see the horses. Instead, Sadie stood defiantly with her hands on her hips. “Maggie’s the sister of my school friend. We went to the church together,” Sadie said in a voice that allowed for no dissent. “She ain’t no more a fancy woman than me.”

  Penn and Dora came up beside Maggie and put their arms around her waist.

  “She’s just a plain old cat. Most likely, she’s going to California to set up a whorehouse, make these other women work at it.”

  “She is no such thing. I believe I know her family,” Caroline put in. “She is a woman of good character, and you slander her.”

  The dragoon was furious. “They’s lying, sir.”

  “Have a care, soldier. You have accused this woman of a shameful act. I will not stand for it,” a voice said.

  Maggie turned, thinking Reverend Parnell was speaking, but it was the other one, the self-righteous one, Joseph Swain.

  “I demand you take action against this man for his foul attack,” he continued.

  “No,” Maggie said. “Let it be over. I do not want to think of it again, or speak of it.” She was embarrassed and shamed at what had happened. She did not want the others to wonder why she had waited to cry out. Nor did she want anyone to look too deeply into her past.

  “You see, sir,” Joseph said to the lieutenant. “Only a woman of pure heart would forgive a man for such an abomination.”

  The lieutenant nodded and turned to Maggie. “I am sorry for this and thank you for your compassion, ma’am. Filing charges against a soldier would take time away from protecting wagon trains. I will keep a watch on him, and so will the others.” Then he said to William, “It is better we be on our way now instead of waiting for morning.” He ordered the dragoons to be ready to move out.

  The women crowded around Maggie then, offering words of sympathy, and she realized they had not doubted her at all. Penn proffered a salve she had made from herbs that she’d picked along the trail, for where the soldier had dug his nails into Maggie’s breast. Evaline told her that Bessie had gone to build up a fire and prepare a cup of tea for her. Dora said she would fetch Maggie’s other dress and a needle so she could mend the torn one. As if they did not want to embarrass Maggie, the others slowly turned away, until only Sadie was left standing with her arm around her friend.

  “What you said…,” Maggie began. “If you had not spoken up…”

  Sadie smiled. “I knew you weren’t a whore.” She gave Maggie a sly look. “I hope I was not in error about our knowing each other. I did not recognize you until a few minutes ago. I ask you to give my regards to your sister next time you write.”

  “I do not have a sister.”

  “You do now, more than forty of them.”

  * * *

  MAGGIE CLIMBED INTO a wagon to change into her other dress, then sat down by the puckered opening at the back of the wagon to mend the torn one. After a time she heard footsteps, but she paid no attention until she heard Joseph ask, “Did you in truth know Mrs. Hale’s family?”

  “No,” Caroline replied.

  “Then I think it has cost you much to tell a falsehood.”

  “It was necessary. I believe God will forgive me.”

  “It was generous of Mrs. Cooper to speak up. She took a chance.” He paused a moment. “I believe you are aware that it was Mrs. Cooper who was a woman of the streets. Did you know of her profession when you allowed her to join us?”

  Caroline paused as she considered the question. “I suspected.”

  “And William, did he know?”

  “He may have guessed.”

  “And yet you approved of her.”

  “Yes.”

  “Will you tell me why?”

  Caroline did not reply at first. Then she said, “I knew her at the Kitchen for a good woman. I believed she had had a hard life and wanted to change. We could give her that opportunity. It was not for me to judge her, no more than Our Lord judged the Magdalene.”

  “I believed the same,” Joseph said.

  “You knew?” Caroline sounded incredulous. “Was it because of her appearance?”

  “Not that. I knew because she once approached me on the street.”

  “And yet you did not refuse to let her join us.”

  “My dear, I saw that you were her champion, that you were bringing a sinner back into the flock. How could I have gone against such a powerful advocate as my beloved wife?”

  * * *

  A LITTLE LATER, the dragoons, their gear packed, were ready to mount their horses when the lieutenant approached Joseph and Caroline. Maggie was sitting on a log near them, a quilt around her shoulders. “The woman?” the lieutenant asked.

  “She will be fine,” Caroline replied. “It is good of you to inquire.”

  He nodded, then cleared his throat. “I had another reason for stopping with you that I have not mentioned.” He glanced at Maggie, but she was not listening. Instead, she stared out across the prairie, which was dotted with flowers. There was the sound of birds, and she took comfort in their little songs.

  “What is it?” Joseph asked the lieutenant.

  “You will excuse me,” Caroline said, but the lieutenant told her to stay.

  “You should be as aware of this situation as your husband,” he said. He looked again at Maggie, who sat with her eyes closed.

  “I have information about a criminal who may be among you,” the lieutenant said.

  “What?” Joseph asked. “One of our men? My brother has conducted interviews with each and is confident they are all of good character.”

  “I am not talking about your men.”

  “A woman?” Caroline asked.

  Although she did not open her eyes, Maggie was aware of the conversation now. She heard the shock in Caroline’s voice.

  “It appears she is charged with a very serious crime—the worst.”

  Maggie held her breath. Jesse was dead. The news tore at her heart. He couldn’t hurt her anymore, or Clara either, but she could not help remembering the man who had brought her violets. Perhaps there had been a part of him that was decent. Now she would never know. She was safe, but at what cost?

  “She is among us?” Joseph asked.

  “It is thought she may be.”

  “Who is she?”

  “Her name is Margaret Kaiser. She is traveling with her daughter, who is four or thereabout.”

  Caroline reached behind her and gripped Maggie’s shoulder. “We have no one of that name in our company,” she said.

  “She may have changed her name.”

  Maggie tightened the quilt around her shoulders in an attempt to stop shaking. Would the soldier take her all the way back to St. Joseph? Or perhaps she would be tried at Fort Kearny. What if she was found guilty? Would she be hanged in front of her friends? And what would happen to Clara?

  “What has she done?” Joseph asked.

  “It appears she may have murdered her husband.” He held out a piece of paper. “This is a notice I received. It says right here, ‘Murder.’”

  “Perhaps she had a good reason,” Caroline put in. “Perhaps he beat her or threatened her child. I have seen women like that in Chicago, women so cruelly treated that they are reduced to the state of animals. They fight back only when their children are threatened.”

  The three were silent for a moment. Then Caroline said, “Well, whatever her name is, she is not in our company. And as you can see, we have only a boy with us and a Negro girl. Do you know that this woman is going west?”

  “It is presumed so.”

  Maggie heard the dragoon’s boot kick at the dirt, and she remembered how Jesse had struck her with his own boot after she had fallen to the floor. Tears slipped from under her eyelids. The world w
as unfair. Why was it all right for him to beat her so savagely but wrong for her to fight back?

  The lieutenant continued, “I didn’t join the cavalry to track down runaway wives. To my way of thinking, it is not my business.” Maggie heard the rattle of paper. “I just thought I would mention it. There’s a reward—two hundred dollars.”

  Two hundred dollars? Maggie wondered why the government cared so much about the killing of a gambler.

  “This is the information. I believe the description could fit several women in your train,” the lieutenant said. “I do not need it. As I say, it is distasteful to me to have to track down a woman. Maybe one of your people will recognize her.”

  Although Clara was dressed like a boy, the women in the train knew she was a girl. If they heard of the reward, one of them was likely to recognize Maggie as the runaway wife. Two hundred dollars was a great deal of money. Perhaps if she confessed to Reverend Swain, he would take pity and help her. She thought of that as the dragoon walked away.

  Joseph’s voice shook her out of her reverie. “Mrs. Hale, what do you have to say to this?”

  Maggie looked up to see the minister staring at her. Slowly, she stood, letting the quilt fall to the ground. She could deny she was that woman, but he already knew better. “It is true,” she said.

  “Will you tell us why?”

  “He beat me. He beat Clara. He did terrible things to her…” She stopped. “I cannot shame her.”

  “There were children at the Kitchen who had been used as prostitutes, some by their fathers,” Caroline said. “Maggie’s husband was a cruel man. I believe she had no choice but to take the action she did.”

  Joseph turned to his wife. “You knew?”

  “I suspicioned it. A man came to the church asking for her. I remembered him. Maggie was familiar to me when I first saw her.”

  “And you did not tell me?”

  Caroline did not answer his question. Instead, she said, “I did not like the look of him. I have seen his kind before. I thought Maggie was wise to leave him.”

  “The Bible says a woman must cleave to her husband.”

  “The Bible does not say she must submit to abominable behavior. It does not say she must allow him to beat her to death and accost her child. You saw the bruises on their faces when Maggie applied to come with us.”

  “Yes.” He was silent a moment. “She is a married woman, however. Did you not consider that? After all, our purpose is to find Christian brides for the miners.”

  “We have many purposes. I believe the Lord called on me to rescue a downtrodden woman.”

  Caroline put her arm around Maggie and drew her close as Joseph considered the situation. Then he ripped the paper in half and in half again. “I shall add this to the campfire.”

  Eight

  A wagon was stuck in the deep prairie sand, and Maggie and several other women helped the men unharness the oxen from the wagon behind and harness them to the first one so the animals could help pull out the mired vehicle. It was the second time that day that they had had to double-team the oxen because of a wagon that had bogged down.

  “We must lighten the load,” William told Joseph. “The oxen will never make it to California if they have to haul all this.”

  Maggie had already seen the piles of discarded items along the way—trunks and bureaus, chairs, farm implements, feather beds, curling irons, buttonhooks, even food. At first the women had viewed the discards as treasure to be plundered. Maggie had opened a trunk of clothing and watched Sadie sort through silk dresses and corsets, lace shawls and bonnets, adding a few to her own trunk. Winny had taken a skillet, a coffeepot, and a slab of bacon that was only a little spoiled. Penn had found drawers and a petticoat. And Maggie had searched for a dress to replace the one the dragoon had ripped. She had mended that dress but could not bear to wear it. She also hunted for boys’ clothing for Clara. She had expected the girl to wear overalls only until they left St. Joseph, but after she found out the law was searching for a woman and her daughter, she decided Clara should continue to dress like a boy. Besides, sometimes when she saw Clara running across the prairie, Maggie was reminded of Dick, and for an instant she had two children. The little girl did not protest, because she found pants less confining than a skirt.

  After a time, the items discarded along the trail no longer interested Maggie. Anything picked up only added to the weight in her own wagon and would have to be thrown away farther down the road. Now she and the others took only what was better than what they had. Dora found a good skirt to replace one of hers that was ragged. It was also larger in the waist, Maggie noted. Caroline exchanged a sturdy kettle for her own, which had a hole in it.

  Some of the discarded items had been burned by the emigrants who abandoned them. If they couldn’t have them, nobody would. But other travelers were more generous. Caroline picked up a fine sampler dated 1840. Embroidered at the bottom was “This was done by Fanny Kirk, who hated every stitch of it.” Maggie came across a pile of quilts, pieced in intricate patterns and put together with tiny stitches. Someone had laid a board on top of them with a note: “Please take and love my good quilts. C. Morrow.”

  “She must have cried when she left them,” Maggie said, peering at the even stitches. Maggie had brought only the plain quilts she had pieced when she stayed on Mary’s farm, and now she exchanged them for the ones left on the trail. “I believe this one is far finer than any I made,” she said.

  “And yours is finer than anything I have,” Sadie told her, picking up one of Maggie’s discarded quilts and leaving behind her own shabby bed covering.

  Maggie didn’t protest Reverend Parnell’s order to lighten the load. By then, she had pushed too many wagons out of the sand and mud holes to object. Although she had brought little with her, she nonetheless searched through her belongings to see what could be discarded. She set a pair of kid slippers beside the trail. Jesse had bought them for her after he won at gambling and was in a good mood. They were soft and fine, but they would be ruined in a minute if she wore them through the sand.

  “My books can go,” Caroline said.

  “My frame. I will keep the picture,” Mary told Maggie, who was surprised that Mary had brought along the daguerreotype of her brother and sister-in-law.

  “My flute.” A woman opened a case lined in velvet and touched the instrument longingly. Then, as she wiped a tear from her eye, she placed it back into its case and set it on the ground.

  “The Bible Reverend Swain gave me,” Sadie put in.

  “Mine, too,” another woman said.

  “My stove,” Bessie told them. Her wagon had been stuck more than any of the others, and Reverend Parnell had suggested a few days before that she discard the sheet-iron stove. Bessie had refused. “I do not intend to cook over a campfire once I arrive in California,” she had replied. “Besides, my stove may be my greatest attraction as a bride.” Now, however, she and Evaline removed the stove lids and tossed them out of the wagon. The men lifted the heavy stove and set it on the ground. “Perhaps someone will come along who can use it,” she said, setting a lid lifter and a can of stove blacking on one of the lids. That was unlikely, Maggie thought. The stove would surely rust into the ground.

  “What about the pulpit?” William asked Joseph.

  “Absolutely not!” Joseph was incensed. “It was a gift from our Chicago congregation, and it will grace a house of worship in California. I would rather throw out my gold watch than abandon the pulpit.”

  “It is walnut and very heavy. It weighs more than all the clothes and books and personal items the women are throwing away. Surely it will mean more to the men in California that they have a preacher than that you brought the furnishings of a church,” Caroline told him.

  “I could never explain it in Chicago. No, I will take it to California if I have to carry it on my back.”

  “As well you might,” William muttered.

  Bessie was more sympathetic. “It is hard to discard posses
sions that are dear to us,” she told the ministers. “I find that most distressing.”

  Maggie could see that. She glanced at the rocking chair in the back of the wagon. Bessie had not offered to abandon it. But that was not Maggie’s business.

  William looked at the chair, too, and smiled.

  “You think me too materialistic?” Bessie asked.

  “I cannot say that of someone whose generosity made this trip possible.”

  “But you would say that of someone else, would you not?”

  “You are not someone else.”

  “Much as I try,” she said. She turned and studied the rocking chair. “Will it go before we reach California?”

  “No doubt.”

  Bessie sighed. “Then it might as well be discarded now.” She turned to Maggie. “Will you help me lift it out of the wagon?”

  William went over to the wagon to take the chair, but the women had already picked it up. Once it was on the ground, Maggie said, “It is very pretty.”

  “My husband made it—my first husband.”

  Maggie had not known that Bessie had been married twice. “He painted the homey scene on its back,” Bessie said. “The rocker is a little crude and of no value to anyone else, but I prize it more than the Chippendale chairs that belonged to my second husband. It is the only possession of his that I retained.”

  William, too, examined the rocker. Then he lifted it back into the wagon. “You have already discarded your stove, and you did not bring the little dog of which you were so fond. I believe the rocker can survive a few miles more. Who knows, perhaps it can make it all the way to California after all.”

  “On my back?” Bessie asked.

  “Would you prefer mine?”

  Maggie saw the two exchange a glance before Reverend Parnell walked away. “You have lost two husbands, then,” she said to Bessie.

  “Two good ones. I do not believe I shall find a third.”

  “Then why do you go to California?” Maggie remembered Bessie’s conversation with the ministers at the church and was curious. Was the woman really going along for an adventure? If that was true, then she must regret her decision by now.