Chapter 37
Monday, September 25, 1848
The night seemed bad, but the morning brought huge gusts of wind from the southeast. They tore at the corners of the wagons, making them shudder. Squalls of stinging rain whipped through the camp, keeping everyone inside the wagons or underneath them. The animals stood with their backs to the onslaught.
In a brief interlude, Ella scrambled from her wagon and ran to where she saw the men collect under some trees. “What do we do?” she shouted. The trees bent and swayed over their heads.
They were all drenched, their clothes dark with mud stains. Samuel wrapped an arm around her and bent close to her ear.
“We’ve decided to set tight until there’s a break. Up ahead, there’s a dense oak hammock. Could offer protection.”
She nodded.
“How’s Perleu?”
“What?” She lifted her wet shawl to cover her head.
“Perleu?”
“He’s in Zach’s wagon! Mattie said she could drive, if need be. I put their children in with us—to give Perleu room. I got to go back!” She turned and ran.
Ella’s wagon was full, with Aga and the baby, the five children, and one smelly dog. The men finally tied their horses and slid under wagons to wait out the renewed rain. Shivering, Ella sat on the wet floor and rubbed a piece of cloth over her face.
“Didn’t think I’d ever be chilled, ag’in—after this past summer!”
“Albery’s fussy. I don’t know what’s wrong,” Aga said.
The wagon rocked with a sudden burst of wind, and Mattie’s youngest girl, Claire, cried out in alarm. Ella crawled to the little girl. “Let me hold you.”
She settled the child in her lap. Claire sucked on three fingers and laid her head on Ella’s chest. “Want Mommie!”
“How ’bout a story?”
In the dim light, the other four children crowded Ella’s knees, so they could hear. Amos and Enoch had become steadfast friends, and Hannah tried to make friends with eight-year-old Becky, but the somber-faced child tended to keep to herself.
“I’ll tell you ’bout when I were little an’ lived in the mountains. This is a scary story.” Ella folded back her collar, letting Aga and the children stare at the reddish scars. “I want to tell you how to be brave.” She told her story of being attacked by a young panther and surviving the awful ordeal. Claire snuggled in her arms while she talked.
The odor of sweaty bodies, wet dog fur, and damp leaves stirred with the wind forcing its way around the canvas. Wolf wedged himself to a sideboard of the wagon, panting. He whined each time the wind jerked the canvas.
“Ella Dessa! Rain drippin’ in.” Aga pointed. The old canvas sagged where water collected in a concave section.
“Push up on the canvas. Claire’s finally asleep. I cain’t get up.”
Aga stood, with the baby in her arms, and pushed at the wet canvas. The leak stopped. Cradling her son, she unbuttoned her top and placed him at her breast.
“Mama,” Hannah said. “Was it a big cat?”
“Not a full grown mount’in lion. My papa shot it.”
The winds buffeting the wagon grew in intensity, and the rain came in waves. Water flowed over the wagon’s floor. Ella finally woke Claire and set her with her sister and brother, despite her wails of distress. The light in the wagon grew less, as if night covered them. But Ella knew it was close to midday.
Abruptly, the wagon jerked forward, and the children screamed. Ella was stunned, and then realized the wagon was moving. Crawling forward, she opened the flaps to see Samuel hunched on the bench, hanging on to his hat.
He yelled above the wind. “Moving to higher ground!”
The wind roared overhead, and one of the curved struts gave way with a loud crack. The canvas caved in, but no one screamed.
Amos burrowed himself under a pile of flour sacks.
Ella helped Aga move away from a steady stream of water pouring in above their heads. The wind slashed at the canvas, and the wagon stopped rolling.
Samuel’s drenched head appeared at the rear of the wagon. “Ella Dessa! I’m sorry, but Mattie needs you in their wagon!”
Ella shielded her eyes from the rain, trying to see the Whitakers’ wagon. Samuel’s hands slipped under her arms. He lifted her to the mushy ground, and she ran into the wind.
Perleu lay on a bedroll. A bluish tint to his skin surrounded his mouth and nose.
“He can’t git air! The storm’s suckin’ life outta him!” Mattie’s bulky body knelt beside the old man’s wasted form. “What kin we do?”
Perleu reached for Ella’s hand. “Hurri-cane! Dig holes, an’ put children in—or tie to trees! Ella … Ella Dessa, cain’t git air in—my lungs. Sit me up.” His lips were deep blue.
Ella and Mattie lifted his frail body to a sitting position and held him. He gasped and reached for his chest, his green eyes widening in surprise. Ella caught him as he fell sideways.
He is gone.
Ella felt numb and patted his bony shoulder as if he needed comfort. The rain plummeted on the sagging canvas. Wiping rain and tears off her face, she said, “It’s over.”
Mattie shook her head in horror and scooted away from Perleu’s body. Ella knew death was still too raw for her.
The rain had slacked. Loud voices could be heard. When Ella crawled over Perleu’s body to reach the end of the wagon, she saw Zack stood nearby.
“You’re crazy!” he yelled.
Luke used his shirt to wipe his face. “It’s the only chance.” With a disgusted look, he flung his drooping, pine needle hat away. “We can’t stay in the open—like I said earlier! You don’t know the strength of these storms! It’ll be the worst you ever went through. It’ll mangle the bows on the wagons, hurting everyone inside!”
“You aren’t taking my family where trees will fall on them. That oak back there fell sideways. I saw it go!” Zack’s face was colorless. His long wet hair stuck to his beefy neck.
“We need the thick, wide oaks. That was a water oak. Their roots don’t go deep. Those in the high hammock over there, they don’t snap off or topple as easy. The wagon tops are caving in. Look at yours!” Luke pointed at the flapping canvas.
Ella ran to them. “Perleu is dead. His last words were to warn us of a hurricane! Luke’s lived in Florida longer. Cain’t we trust him?” She reached for Samuel’s arm and hung on as the wind hit them with tiny branches.
“How can the woods be safer?” Zack yelled.
“We got to do somethin’ fast!” she screamed at him.
The wind blew rain sideways. It stung her skin, and she lost her balance. Samuel tucked her under his arm, his lips against her ear.
“Get in the wagon! I’ll handle the team. Luke will take the lead. We’ll turn your wagon. Let Zack do what he wants.”
She lifted her soaked skirt and ran. Rain and debris pelted her face, feeling like a million needles. As Ella climbed into the wagon, she saw Samuel ride up. He kicked free of the stirrups and jumped off. Within seconds, he was on the platform. His black horse trotted away, and the wagon began rolling.
Aga huddled on the wet floor, the baby lost in the folds of a quilt draped over her soaked figure. Hannah and Amos hid under a horse blanket, clumped together in fright. Wolf crowded against them, head up and dark eyes watchful. Mattie and Zack’s children were yelling for their mother.
The wind ripped at the canvas, and it seemed to roar through the trees. Hannah’s mouth was open, but Ella couldn’t hear her daughter’s cries. Kneeling, she clutched the wooden side of the rocking wagon. With her free hand, she pulled the girl against her. The bouncing and swaying of the wagon got worse. The old canvas over their heads slowly tore, revealing the dark, ominous sky.
The wagon faltered to a stop.
Luke appeared at the rear flap. As he opened it, the wind caught the canvas and stripped it from his hands. It floated like a giant sail over their heads, snapping and cracking like a whip.
“Out, get
out!” he yelled, reaching for Ella. “Everyone out!” He lifted her to the ground, just as Zach jumped off his wagon. He had followed them. “Zach! Release the oxen! Samuel, lift down the chicken box.”
Zach ran to the big animals. He disconnected harnesses and fought to unyoke the animals as they tossed their pointed horns. Their rolling eyes said they sensed what was coming.
Luke set Milly free, along with the grown calf.
Under two soaked blankets, the women cowered. They didn’t understand why Luke shoved them into the storm’s fury. Ella bent her body double over her two children and Enoch, trying to shield them from loose limbs falling and blowing around in the air. Aga did the same, protecting her baby and Mattie’s two girls with her own body.
“Where’s Mattie?” Ella cried, but no one heard her.
The blanket jerked upward. She caught a glimpse of Samuel crawling over the bench, into the wagon. Then she saw the men throwing items from her wagon. “Oh, no,” she whispered, but the wind erased her selfish gasp.
Luke swung an axe at brush and ground cover, stripping it away, and then the men stood side by side and lifted one side of the wagon. It tipped, the wind taking it sideways. The momentum carried it over on its top, crushing the struts. Samuel lost his balance and fell. Luke grabbed him by his arm and dragged him to his feet. The smashed, skeletal struts held one corner of the lopsided wagon off the ground, a space of about eighteen inches. But Luke chopped them away and yelled for a shovel.
Zach grabbed one from the household goods they had dumped. “Got it!”
Luke dug a large hole under one corner of the upturned wagon—big enough for a person to slip under. He used an axe to chop out roots, before yelling, “Help us with your wagon!”
They soon did the same to Zach’s wagon, but before flipping it, Zach and Luke tore and chopped away the canvas and curved struts. After they were done, Luke again took the shovel and dug a deep, slanted hole at one corner.
Ella saw Mattie huddled under a tree. The red-haired woman turned, trying to catch a glimpse of her children.
Ella briefly wondered what had happened to Perleu’s body.
Luke ran to them and helped Aga to her feet. “Hurry! Under the wagons! There’s enough room to crawl under. Go!” he yelled, leaning toward Ella, so she could hear his command. “Now! Run!”
Struggling to her feet and fighting the wind and rain, Ella heard a horrible cracking noise above their heads. She shoved the Whitaker children toward their mother. “Run!” she screamed. Amos bolted toward Samuel, and Hannah followed Luke.
A broken tree limb, swept by the wind, caught Ella across the right hip. It was a glancing blow, but it knocked her to the rain-soaked dirt. She heard Hannah’s screams as she doubled her knees under her body and fought to stand.
Samuel pulled her upright and guided her to the overturned wagon.
“Amos! Where’s Amos?” She tried to see.
“The other wagon! I’ll go to him. Hannah’s with you!”
It was dark under the wagon.
Something crashed down on it.
Hannah screamed, and Ella pulled her under the curve of her own body. Please, Lord, keep your hands about us!
The wind howled and buffeted the toppled wagon. Rain beat on the wood. Cold water flowed under the wagon and surrounded their chilled bodies. Ella felt Aga beside her—shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip. She could faintly see Luke had wedged his bulkier weight against the corner of the wagon, from where the highest wind came. His hands pressed to the wood, as if he were sure he could hold the wagon and prevent it from flipping.
Samuel tightened his arms around Amos’s struggling body. They had to share the extremely cramped space with the Whitakers and their hysterical children. Mattie had trouble working her large bulk through the hole dug under the wagon, but she had finally managed, sobbing and crying.
“No, Amos!” He could feel the wagon shift with each gust of wind.
“Where’s Wolf?”
Samuel ignored the question. Rain stung his back and head as it slashed through the gaps in the wagon’s wood floor. He sheltered his nephew’s body and prayed. “Oh, God! Kill me, if you want, but spare the others! Let Ella have her children. Don’t take them!”
There was no space to lift Amos out of the water running around them.
“Mama!” The child hid his face in Samuel’s shirt. His fingers clung. His little body shook. He was soaked to the skin, wet hair plastered to his head.
Samuel kept his eyes on the exit hole and prayed.
What seemed like hours later, the howling wind died. Ella raised her head and peered through the dim light. She felt suffocated.
“Luke? Is it over?”
Chapter 38
“No, Ella. But it’s a lull, which won’t last long.”
“We’re layin’ in water. Are we trapped?”
Daylight filled gaps between the wagon’s boards. She saw Luke digging at the mud and water near where they crawled under the wagon.
“The opening filled in. Zach! Hey, Samuel—can you get to us?”
In the confined space, Luke shoved away debris and continued clawing at the wet soil. He cleared a spot and could shove his hand and arm through the opening. Placing his face close to it, he hollered for more help.
“I’m here, Luke!” Samuel said. “Give me a moment. I’m hurt. Zack’s coming.”
Hurt? Ella could hear the sound of digging and more light filled the cave-like space.
“Ella Dessa?” Samuel’s voice shook. “You have Hannah?”
“I have her.” Ella kissed the girl’s wet head. “How bad are you hurt?”
“Stay back,” Zach said. “I’ve got to use the axe. I think the wagon settled too much.”
Luke scooted away from the hole. They listened to the chopping and watched as the muddy hole grew wider and deeper.
“I can make it,” Luke said. By laying on his back and pushing with his heels, he disappeared from view. “Ella? Send Hannah out. Warn her there’s water to crawl through.”
Pushing Hannah into the daylight, Ella gathered up her skirt and wiggled out on her belly and elbows. She turned to lift Albery from Aga’s shaking hands. Sitting on the soggy, debris-strewn forest floor, she cradled the baby and hugged Hannah with the other arm. Amos ran to cuddle against his sister, his whole body smeared with dark mud. Rain splattered them, and a calmer wind shifted through the broken treetops.
Ella pressed her lips together. Her back and hip throbbed. Aga staggered to them and took the baby, making room for Amos to lay his head in Ella’s lap. Touching the boy’s filthy face, Ella murmured a prayer of thanks.
“Don’t go far,” Luke warned. “The worst is coming.”
“What?” Mattie struggled to get her greater bulk out from under the wagon while pushing Claire ahead of her. “Cain’t be no worse!” Her husband pulled her roughly to her feet.
Samuel sat beside Ella and leaned against a denuded tree. His face showed pain. A broken limb, slung by the wind, had cut his right shoulder. Blood stained his wet shirt.
“Samuel, it needs to be bandaged.” Ella pulled on the neckline of his shirt and looked inside. Her heart twisted at what she saw. “It’s deep. Samuel, let me—”
“Naw, my shirt covers it for now. Not bleeding so bad. Let me rest.”
Two of Zach’s oxen lay fifty feet away, an oak tree across their lifeless bodies. Ella hid Hannah’s face against her chest.
Their team of oxen had vanished. Milly and the calf were gone. None of the horses could be seen.
Trees stood stripped of leaves.
Clouds crowded the skimpy patches of blue sky, dirty-gray in color with a greenish cast. A strange calm settled in the woods, with no birds or indication of animal life. The steady drip, drip of raindrops from the damaged trees was all they heard.
Trees leaned at odd angles, tangled together and loosened from the ground. A few pines were snapped off high in the air. The roots of one tree towered above gaping black soil, like a
giant’s hand reaching from a grave. A heavy limb had broken one back wheel on Ella’s wagon.
Canvas was shredded and woven into the top of a nearby pine. The mess resembled an odd bird, stretching its gigantic tan wings between the branches.
Luke pulled debris away from the wagons. “Got to make sure we can get back under. Zach, shovel the holes wider and deeper.”
“Back under?” Ella didn’t think she heard correctly. “What?” She hugged Hannah and Amos.
“There’s more coming. It could be worse. Winds are shifting. We don’t have much time.”
Ella gasped. “You’re not makin’ sense! We must start a fire. Git the children warm.”
“Can’t. There’s two sides to a gale. Winds shift. Men and women die not knowing that. We will get under the wagons—soon. Look to the sky!”
Luke and Zach dug at the muddy ground and enlarged the holes under the edge of each wagon.
“That should do it,” Zach said. “We can crawl through that water.” He leaned on the shovel handle. “This is awful. If we hadn’t had the wagons …” His voice trailed off and tears ran down his face.
Ella tried to ignore the constant ache in her right hip. She touched Aga’s cheek. “Honey, you all right?”
She shivered. “Yes.” Her dark brown eyes held fear.
“You best feed your son now.”
“His things are wet.”
“Luke, can you find my trunk? Perhaps there’d be somethin’ dry to wrap Albery?”
Aga turned away, lifted her loose top, and placed the baby to her breast. Amos whimpered for Wolf. Mattie left the side of her wagon and hobbled toward them, a shawl draped over her sopping wet red head. She lowered her bulky figure to sit with them and hug her children.
No one talked.
The sun even peeked out.
Luke found the trunk and a muslin sheet for Aga.
The men stood mesmerized, watching the sky directly over their heads. The wind had switched directions. Sunlight faded away. There was an ominous weight to the air, a near palatable warning.
With This Peace Page 28