With This Peace

by Karen Campbell Prough

  Hastily, Aga climbed over the seat to crouch in the meager security of the crowded wagon.

  Ella could just make out the tiny form of a hut. It was partially hidden by intertwined vines. Luke dropped back, to ride beside Samuel.

  It cain’t be! Ella leaned forward. A large woman, wearing a poke bonnet, stood in the doorway. Mattie?

  Ella lifted her hand in greeting as the wagon creaked to a stop, and Zach stepped into view. She noticed his dark-rimmed eyes were somber, his lips unsmiling. Her own smile slipped away.

  Something was dreadfully wrong.

  The children huddled behind Mattie, their faces thinner, hungrier, and streaked with dirt. They resembled three baby woodpeckers peering around their mother’s ample hips, with their red heads bobbing to get a better glimpse of the wagon.

  “I didn’t expect to see you ag’in,” Ella gasped. “How are you?”

  Mattie’s round face appeared less plump. “Ella Dessa?” She spoke in awe, as if having trouble believing her eyes.

  “Yes, it’s me. Why are you here? You left last fall!”

  Zach removed his stained hat and worked it in his dirty hands. “We’ve been here ever since. And … and …” he stammered, facing Mattie, as if asking for permission to explain.

  Mattie’s face went stony. “Ella Dessa, I gave birth out here. That’s what he’s tryin’ ta git out. An’ they didn’t live!” Her tough exterior crumpled, and she covered her mouth with dimpled hands. “I was jokin’ when I said there’d be no more—I was with child shortly after that!”

  Zach bowed his head. “I buried ’em by the largest oak ya see behind us. Marked it with a cross. She won’t leave them. I been huntin’ ta keep us alive.”

  “It were two boys,” Mattie said in a broken whisper. “I cain’t hold ’em in my arms no more!”

  Ella climbed from the wagon. Going to the woman, she took Mattie’s hand. “May I sit with you for a spell?”

  She nodded and pointed at their wagon. “Up there,” she muttered. “It’s awful in the hut.”

  Zach came around to help his stout wife and Ella onto the wagon. Wrapping her arms around the woman, Ella hugged her while Mattie poured out her grief.

  Sometime later, she helped Mattie lie down on a wide, filthy mat.

  “We sleep up here, not in the shack,” the woman said, her eyelids swollen. She blinked away tears and rolled on her side. “I cain’t talk no more.”

  When Ella left the wagon, Wolf limped close. The three Whitaker children crowded in and petted him.

  “Your mama’s restin’,” she told them.

  “She does that.” Zach’s eyes traveled over the big dog staying tight to her side. “You know what? I seen that dog before. But he had two eyes.”

  She laughed. “That’s almost what someone else said. Yes, we figure it’s Cullom’s.”

  He whistled. “Well, I’ll be! So the black bear didn’t kill him! Ella Dessa, what you doin’ here?”

  “Same as you—goin’ back north.”

  “Cain’t say as we got far. She took sick. We saw this hut an’ stopped. She took ta the bed. Kept thinking it’d pass. Then weeks started goin’ by. She got so big, she couldn’t git around much, but wouldn’t stay in there.” He jerked his thumb toward the dismal hut. “I kept us from starving by hunting. Mostly raccoon and squirrel hash, with poke weeds and swamp cabbage. Three weeks ago, they were born. The littlest, Mark, died four days later. Silas died three days ago. There’s nothing we could do.”

  “Zach, I’m so sorry. We had no idea you were this close—one day’s ride? We would’ve come to help.”

  “Yer husband doin’ better?”

  “My … husband died.” Ella pointed at Samuel riding over to them on the black mare. “This is … my husband’s brother, Samuel McKnapp. We were wed after my husband’s death—per his wishes.”

  “Well!” Zach exclaimed, squinting his eyes.

  “Samuel, this here’s Zach Whitaker. Mattie’s in the wagon. This is Becky, Claire, and their son, Enoch.”

  While the two men talked, she realized Perleu had climbed to her wagon seat, and Luke sat on his horse off to the right. The heat accompanied the cloudy skies by midmorning. They should’ve been moving on, but they couldn’t leave the Whitakers stranded.

  Walking through the tall grass to Luke, Ella grinned at his stoic expression. “Well, Luke, guess this is where more problems arise. I feel we must help. Mattie lost twin boys. Her husband buried ’em.”

  He sighed and waved at a mosquito trying to land on his arm. “I can’t stay hidden. Not trying.”

  She laid her hand on his arm. “Luke, any time you wish to go … you can. The horse is yours. Nothing’s stoppin’ you from ridin’.”

  While gazing at her hand, a slight smile played over his face. “Ah, Ella Dessa, a light touch can keep me where I shouldn’t be.”

  Flushing, she jerked her hand back. “Luke, I—wasn’t doin’ no sech thing! I wanted to let you know, you’re free!” She stomped away, aware of his chuckle.

  Zach looked taken aback when Luke rode up, dismounted, and tied his horse to Ella’s wagon. He held his hand out to Zach. “Name’s Luke. Samuel and I can help you fix this hut—make it livable, if you plan to stay on here.”

  Samuel’s face, for once, showed no reaction to Luke’s bold way of approaching a problem.

  “Come.” Ella motioned to Mattie’s three children. She felt Zach would accept Luke. The next step was to bring Aga into the picture. “Would you like to go with me? My children are in the wagon. They’ll be happy to have someone to play with.”

  She lifted each child into the wagon and glanced back at the men. They were talking over the best way to shore up the hut and waterproof it. Smiling, she sat on the wagon seat. She knew they’d be staying at least a couple days. In the distance, the rumble of thunder gave warning of a summer shower.

  Chapter 35

  Ella opened her eyes. Hannah and Amos still slept, but she heard the baby whimper and Aga’s murmur of love. A rain storm with high winds had passed over them hours before.

  She wondered how Perleu did, sleeping under the wagon. Rolling to her back, she stared at the canvas. Mattie accepted the slave girl with no questions, but she wouldn’t go near the dark-haired infant.

  A hand rapped on the side of the wagon.

  “Ella Dessa?”

  “Samuel? What is it?” She sat up and pushed aside the gathered canvas.

  “Zach says Mattie needs you. Could you come?”

  “Yes, give me a moment.”

  Just a few minutes later, she spoke outside the old wagon, “Mattie?”

  “Ohh, honey.” Mattie shoved aside the canvas and regarded her with a hollow-eyed stare. She was lying on the dirty mat. “The hurtin’ won’t go away. My breast thinks there’s still … a baby. They’re swollen an’ leakin’. The pain is more than I kin bear, ’specially the right one.”

  Ella stepped up in the wagon and knelt beside her. “May I?” She pressed her hand to Mattie’s huge right breast. It felt tight to her touch. Sitting back on the floor, she said, “Mattie, as much as I hate to say this, hot, wet cloths held there might help. But it would be best if you could nurse a baby. It’ll pain awful at first. Afterwards, wrap ’em real tight to stop it from happening. Would you consider nursin’ Albery?”

  Mattie’s round face blanched. Tears trickled down her face, but she whispered, “It’d be wonderful ta hold him.”

  Ella went to wake Aga. “Must ask you somethin’.”

  At first, Aga seemed upset, but she then nodded. “I kin skip dis feedin’. An’ he should feed good, ’cause others made noise in the wagon—made him fidget with the last feedin’. An’ he frets like he’s starvin’. An’ he’s skinny.”

  “Well, maybe Mattie has fat milk!” Ella whispered, and the two of them giggled.

  Aga and Ella watched as Mattie, with trembling hands and tears on her face, placed the dark infant to her huge, white breast. Albery didn’t mind the colo
r of the skin. He latched on and smacked with relish, patting the breast with his chubby hand.

  Mattie groaned in pain.

  Ella touched her arm. “The hurtin’ will go away … as soon as the milk is freed up. He’s a good nurser. Aga will never hav’ta use a sucking sack and cow’s milk.”

  Her expression relaxing, Mattie fingered the baby’s hair. “His ain’t as curly as Aga’s.”

  “No, but he’s got plenty.” Ella touched the springy curls covering Albery’s head. “It kinda looks like Luke’s big curls.”

  Aga smiled and watched the two women admire her son. “Miss Ella, I thank God fer ya,” she murmured. “I don’t want ta think what might’ve been.”

  “Don’t—it’s the past. God protected you.” Rising to her feet, Ella said, “I need to see to the cookin’. I’ll call out when it’s fixed.”

  Mattie’s brown eyes were apprehensive. “I don’t want ta leave the wagon yet. Bring me somethin’ to eat?”

  “Mattie, I’ll do that, an’ Aga can stay. I’ll bring food to you both.”

  The men ate with metal plates held in their hands, and Ella fed the five children. Perleu sat coughing near the fire, wrapped in a dry blanket. A subdued feeling settled over the makeshift camp.

  Between Perleu’s weakness and Mattie’s state of mind, there was no plan put into place. Ella Dessa longed to be on the trail back home to Georgia, but Mattie was still fighting depression, begging to stay near her buried babies. They finally all agreed to remain where they were camped for a bit longer. There was a little lake nearby, and the men were soon supplying nourishing fish and venison, but the days stretched into weeks. Before long, a little over two months had slipped by with Perleu’s health wavering on constant bedrest.

  Chapter 36

  Sunday, September 24, 1848

  Ella pushed aside the wagon’s rear curtain flap. It was still dark outside, but she sensed it wasn’t as early as it looked. Standing in the tight confines of the wagon, she slipped on her blouse and dropped her rumpled skirt over her head.

  With boots in hand, she stepped over Aga and climbed to the wagon seat. The air felt oppressive. “I don’t like the feel of this,” she whispered to the silence.

  Tugging at the boots, she glanced around to see if the men had awakened. Mattie and Zach’s wagon remained quiet. No campfire was burning. It had rained most of the night in bursts and strengthening gusts. Their wagon had rocked.

  “It’s comin’,” an eerie, unseen voice warned.

  “What is?”

  “Storm hittin’ today. But been comin’ from the coast—that village, Tampa.”

  “But it was so beautiful yesterday an’ last night! Perleu, where are you?”

  “A gale. A big blow!” He materialized beside the wagon, his bony hand gripping the top of the front wheel. In the pinkish, morning light, his face appeared ghastly. “Winds—like ya hain’t nebber seen will end this. It’s in the flushed color of the mornin’ sky yesterday, in the clouds being sucked west, an’ in the air. I now feel it in my bones an’ chest. Ye mountain people better prepare—for death.” His body shook with a choking spell.

  She shuddered. “Perleu, you must not have rested well.”

  Something cracked behind the wagon. She could make out Luke’s outline, as he stooped to break another dry limb near the firepit.

  “Perleu, where’s Samuel?”

  “Helpin’ Luke.” He turned away. “We ain’t got time to git to Socum with this storm comin’. Wind and rain within hours or sooner. I gotta rest.”

  Ella climbed off the wagon. “Perleu says it’s a bad storm brewin’.”

  “He knows.” Luke struck his flint and a spark flew, showing briefly in the strange morning light. He cupped his hand and tried again. “Goin’ to be bad.”

  Tall trees swayed over their heads, and clouds streamed westward.

  Samuel walked up with a bundle of sticks, which he added to the flames licking at moss Luke used for tinder. He smiled at her. “Did you sleep?”

  She sighed. “It’s crowded in the wagon.”

  The scent of burning leaves filled the air. Luke stood and ran fingers through his curly hair. “Something’s brewing.” He stared at the strange skies. “I’ve seen such things in Virginia.”

  “Perleu’s very worried,” she said.

  Luke sighed. “I think he knows what’s comin’. The clouds are drawn west, now.” He narrowed his eyes. “We are in trouble.”

  The crunching of leaves announced Zach’s approach. “I got fooled by the lack of light,” he muttered. “I wanted to keep sleepin’.”

  “How’s Mattie?” Ella asked.

  Zach slapped at a mosquito. “Same. My little ones suffer ’cause of her … sadness.” There was a hollow note in his rough voice.

  “God can comfort the heart. Trust Him.” Ella touched his arm.

  He shrugged. “I don’t hold much on that God stuff.” He glanced at the lonely wooden cross and the piles of dirt. “But we’re goin’ with ya. That’s why Mattie’s cryin’.”

  “Good, more helping hands,” Samuel said.

  A tear trailed Zach’s cheek. “At least the babies will have each other. No one will ever know they’re buried there … the forest will swallow ’em.”

  Ella touched his arm. “We’ll recall their resting place.”

  “Let’s go now. No waiting,” Luke said. “Zach, saddle the roan and take the rear. We need to ride guard front and back. Perleu? Can you manage Zach’s wagon?”

  The old man wiped a hand across his bluish lips. “Think so.”

  Daylight pushed through the trees branches, but the sky was overcast, blotting the hot sun. Laughter and giggles could be heard. The children had awakened.

  “I’ll see to the food,” Ella said.

  The winds blew in short gusts. Small rain showers had splattered the ground in irregular patterns as everyone ate. In spite of the weather, they pushed on. East winds buffeted the two wagons. Soon, small squalls developed, soaking everything and everyone out in the weather.

  The ground grew soggy, wheels creaked, and the oxen sloshed through mud in low areas. No trail could be seen.

  Ella wiped at her face as one more shower ended. Hannah and Amos argued and fussed in the wagon. Abruptly, she brought the team to a halt.

  Circling back on horseback, Samuel said, “Something wrong?”

  “Yes, I cain’t abide the children fightin’! They need to eat.”

  Luke rode up, glancing at the sky. Water dripped through his pine needle hat and down his face. “Pull the wagon toward those trees.” He twirled his hand over his head, indicating Perleu needed to turn the other wagon.

  Ella helped Amos to the ground.

  “Stay close,” she warned. Turning, she held up her hands for Albery.

  Aga handed her the baby, just as Luke jumped off his horse. Without asking, he clasped Aga’s waist and lifted her down.

  “Thank you,” she shyly murmured, reaching for her son.

  Ella noticed a glow in her dark eyes. Luke’s unexpected actions pleased the girl. He tipped his hat and joined the men clearing a spot for a campfire.

  “He’s a special person,” Ella said.

  Aga nodded, touching her lips to the baby’s forehead. “I dreads the day he has ta leave.”

  The wet wood didn’t make a good fire for cooking or heating coffee, and everyone was miserable. “Think we should chance moving on?” Luke indicated the wide-open expanse of cutthroat grass and sedge around them. “This type of ground gets soggy. Floods. Still … not sure we should stay in the high lands, under trees, if there’s a huge storm brewing. Perleu, what do you say?”

  “Trees’ll fall. But best to camp at a high spot an’ start diggin’ in.” Perleu stared at the ominous sky and lifted a spoonful of gruel to his lips. “Sabbath tomorrow.”

  Ella blinked. “Ah, so it is. I lost track of days.”

  “Why stop now? Weren’t we thinkin’ of makin’ Soak-Rum by tomorrow afternoon?”
Zach joined them and slapped his wet hat on his pants.

  “So-cum,” Perleu muttered, his green eyes rimmed with red lids. “Injuns named it first. With the storm that’s comin’, we must hunker down.”

  Zach frowned and scratched at puffy, red bug bites on his neck. “Things might clear. Sun’s comin’ out.” He wiped the sweat off the top of his bald head. “I say we push on. Day’s not over. The sooner I git Mattie settled, the betta fer her health an’ mind.”

  Samuel studied the line of clouds streaming westward. “I side with Perleu.”

  Perleu grunted. He turned to stare at Luke. “Do ya understand what’s comin’? It’s a hurrycane. These folks ain’t from here. It’s pulling the clouds to it. But not forever.”

  “Yes, I know.” Luke wiped his face on his shirtsleeve. He stood and stared at the sky. The clouds streamed by, as if some unseen force tugged them. “I’ve a bad feeling, but I can’t say what we should do.”

  An hour later, raindrops pelted them. The fire sizzled and smoked.

  The sun slipped away.

  Ella gathered the children to her wagon. “Tell Aga to stay with Mattie. I’ll keep the little ones.”

  Samuel sat on his horse under a tree, while the other three men slid beneath the wagons, opting for a damp nap. Perleu rolled in his blanket, despite the warm temperature.

  The vicious pounding of the rain lasted for an hour. Samuel, sopping wet, rode out from under the trees wiping his face with a bandana. “Let’s move on,” he called, “Get out of this soggy mess.”

  “I’m for that!” Zach shouted. “Perleu, are ya takin’ my wagon, or do you want me to do it?”

  Perleu wobbled toward the larger wagon. “I got it. By the way, if I kick the bucket, there’s no one to inform—jest plant me.”

  He needed help getting to the wagon’s bench. His breath came in harsh jerks. Smashing his hat tight on his head, he waited until Ella got her wagon in the lead. She knew he was in no condition to drive the wagon. But she didn’t push the issue, only flicked the rod over the team, and they pulled out on the flat, treeless seep. The wheels sank in the ground and layers of flattened-out grasses. Straining, the oxen tightened their shoulders and pulled.