Chains locked the wheels and kept them from rolling as they slid down the hill with the oxen pulling. It was nerve racking but so was being chased by a grizzly. Her hands and arms were fine. She did have pain across her shoulder blades, but that would likely get better with rest.
She was doing well, and Tara had no doubt she’d get the wagon to the bottom. She’d had retrieved her money from the other wagon, and now she wore two money belts. She couldn’t wait to get them off. If wearing a corset was anything like wearing the belts, she was glad she didn’t need one.
She heard a commotion behind her and turned the oxen closer to the trees on the right. Something hit one of her back wheels but she hung on to the jumpy oxen with all her might. A wagon flew by, veered off the trail, and fell onto rocks below. The wagon splintered apart as the oxen screamed, and she thought she heard a woman screaming too.
Talking calmly to her oxen, she got going again, but the scream she heard bothered her. Then she heard the shots telling her the oxen had been put down. She hoped the people survived, though there was only supposed to be the driver in each wagon. It was a shame, they were almost at the bottom.
As soon as she hit level ground, she took the chains off and sighed in relief. There was yet another mountain range in the distance but they weren’t far from the Willamette Valley. Would she find answers there? What had her father been planning?
She circled, and soon the men were there to care for the livestock. Tara walked back to where the wagon had fallen. She had heard a woman scream; she just knew she did. She slid down the side of the mountain and studied the wagon. Then she heard it again. She looked around and the woman must have been thrown in the crash. Carefully Tara made her way. There was much blood, but she could tell it Leona.
Tears filled Tara’s eyes at the sight of a human body so broken, but she managed to get to her side. Leona was still alive. Tara quickly cut Leona’s petticoats into strips and wrapped her head. It appeared her shoulder was dislocated and there was a deep gash on her calf.
“Help! We need help down here!”
Captain London and Oscar made their way down calling for more men to find a way to carry Leona back up.
“Is she alive?”
“Yes, captain, she is. Her breathing and heart seem strong.”
It took much effort to place her on a board, tie her onto it and keep it level as it was lifted to the trail. Tara sighed in relief as tears fell. “I was so afraid for her.”
They sent a rope down and Tara grabbed it and walked up the side.
Zander hugged her. “We were supposed to pull you up.”
“Why? I was perfectly able to get up out of there.”
Zander pulled back, smiled at her and hugged her again. “What am I going to do with you?”
She had no answer for him.
People praised her as she walked with Zander back to the wagons. She smiled graciously at each one. Inside, she seethed. The hypocrites. They were the same people who talked about her and made fun of her buckskins.
“What’s wrong?” Zander asked as he took her into his arms and stroked her back.
“The people who seem so happy to see me today are the same ones who ridiculed me. I just don’t understand people. Maybe that’s why my pa lived up in the mountains. Maybe he didn’t understand people either.”
“I’m proud of you. I’m proud of the way you drove the wagon and how you got out of the way of the careening wagon. A couple are stuck on the trail needing new wheels because of that wagon. Then you found a hurt woman and saved her.”
It felt so good to be hugged by Zander. “Who was driving that wagon? Her father is over talking to the captain.”
Zander pulled back to take a look. “You know how this group works. We should know shortly.”
This time the others made her sit while they cooked the meal. She sure was tired. Zander was right; within less than an hour it was known that Leona had refused to walk and her father refused to let her in the wagon assuming she’d have to walk if he didn’t. She had talked another driver into letting her ride in the back. She was lucky she survived. The driver had died.
The sun was setting, and it was a beautiful sight with the reds and oranges and yellows melding together.
“Are you too tired to take a walk?”
Smiling she shook her head. “I’d be honored.”
They held hands as they walked to view the valley.
“Our future is just over those mountains. Can you imagine?” Zander asked.
“I don’t want to talk about the future. You resent me, I know you do. I never intended to get you wrapped up in my problems. I just happened to steal away in your wagon and it’s not fair to you. And I’m sorry. I don’t look like a proper wife. I know I look more like a boy than a girl. I don’t have curves like Leona. I kind of thought it a blessing. I didn’t have my bosom in my way while I shot an arrow or a gun. I lost my sling shot, but I’m good with that too. I’m kind and I’m smart and I have a big heart. But I don’t have qualities any man would like in a wife. I think after Oregon, I’ll go west. There are still trappers in Canada.” She turned her face to him, tears in her eyes. “Do you understand? I’m giving you your freedom.”
His mouth dropped open. “I thought you liked my kisses. I thought we wanted the same thing; to build a life together. I thought we could be happy together. You would really leave me?”
“You care for me?”
He scowled. “You’re my wife.”
“Oh.” She quickly glanced away. “It’s been a long day.
“Let’s go set up the tent,” she suggested.
For the next week, Tara studied all the wives on the train, trying to learn what made one woman a good wife and another not so good, according to their husbands and how they treated them. She’d come to the conclusion it was that special spark they had in their eyes for each other. How to get the spark was a mystery.
So far, she tried agreeing with everything he said. He mumbled something about her being a parrot. Then she tried to improve what she had thought were her adequate cooking skills. Zander wasn’t one to try new things, and he refused to eat weeds or dandelions. Rhetta had the best time laughing at Zander’s horrified face. Smiling at him didn’t work and being attentive just brought more frowns.
She tried to be cheerful, but they were traveling from sunup to sundown, and she felt herself feeling cross at him more than once. When she talked to the minister, he just said she was doing all the right things. The other women helped to buoy her spirits, but eventually that didn’t work either.
She was concentrating on driving through the cascades when a wheel broke. She went careening to the other side of the bench and held on as hard as she could to the lines. The oxen stopped, and she was able to climb her way up to the brake and wrap the lines around it.
This would not be an insurmountable problem. They had an extra wheel; she’d just change it. First, she unloaded the wagon, noticing no one stopped to help or even ask if she needed her husband. She put large logs under the wagon, making a bigger base and then building upward to lift the wagon enough to get the wheel off. The logs weren’t going to stay in place.
Maybe if she got the wheel off quickly and could rebuild the logs up and get the new wheel on… Or maybe she’d be pinned under the wagon. Finally, after staring at the problem for a while, she decided to reinforce the logs with large branches going from the ground up the side of the logs and then wedged against the wagon floor. It was back breaking work, but she did it.
She put more grease around the axle, took the C-shaped iron wrench and wrestled the nut off. The oxen stomped and shuffled; they were growing anxious. The brake was on, but they were antsy, making the logs move slightly. There had to be a simpler way.
She pulled the wheel off and examined it. It looked as though it could be repaired, but she wasn’t sure. She would haul it with her just in case. Now to get the new wheel. She had set it next to the trunks when she unloaded the wagon. She kn
ew they were sturdy, but they were heavier than she’d realized. She thought to just slide the new wheel on, but everything had shifted underneath. She needed to crawl beneath there to fix it.
She wiggled under the wagon, vowing to wear her buckskins from now on. She lay on her belly shoring up the logs when they all suddenly began to fall. Tara rolled, but she wasn’t quick enough. Her wrist was caught under one of the heavy chunks of wood.
Pain shot up her arm and then mercifully it all went numb. She forced herself to breathe slowly and blinked back tears. Crying wasn’t going to help. Maybe she could lever the log off her arm. But if she did that and failed she’d crush her wrist for sure. Instead, she took one of the branches and started digging a hole under her wrist hoping to perhaps ease it out.
Her heart beat so fast she feared she would lose consciousness, so she waited for it to slow before she started. Meanwhile, wagons went rolling right by. Did they not see her feet? She sincerely hoped they hadn’t. It was unthinkable that people knew and didn’t offer help.
The pain was setting in again, but she gritted her teeth and kept digging. It was slow going with just a branch.
“Tara! Tara are you hurt?” Harrison yelled as he got down on his knees and looked under the wagon. “What in the world?”
“Broken wheel.” That should have been explanation enough, but by the way he stared at her she had done it all wrong.
“Is anything else pinned beside your wrist?”
“No. I need a small shovel or a big spoon.”
Gravel crunched beneath his feet as he strode away. She waited for him to come back. When he did, he handed her a big spoon.
“I’m going to have to look at this from all angles. Will you be fine while I look?”
“Yes.” She tracked his position with her ears as he made his way around the wagon. Then she heard horses’ hooves and Zander’s voice. He’d think she was stupid, useless even, and that thought hurt more than her wrist.
Zander slid under the wagon next to her and took the spoon from her. He dug while watching the logs. A few were still piled. “We should have you out in a minute.”
He dug hard and fast and at last she was able to wriggle her wrist out from under the log. It throbbed badly. He yelled to Harrison to pull her out. As soon as she was free, he rolled out and closed his eyes. Then he stood and looked at her with fury in his eyes.
“What do you think you were doing? You could have been killed!”
“I—”
“I don’t want to hear it. Just stand over there out of the way.” His tone was gruff and uncaring.
She hung her head and stood where he had pointed. Harrison grabbed a wooden tool and the next thing she knew he had the wagon lifting up. Then he put the wheel on and secured it with the nut.
Zander pulled all the logs out of the way and then the branches. He kept glancing at her and shaking his head.
Tugging at the bottom of her sleeve, she tried to hide her injury.
“I’ll be driving for a bit.” Zander tied his horse to the back of the wagon. He hardly looked at her and then he left. Harrison got back on his wagon and followed.
The realization struck her that there was a difference being alone and being all alone. Obviously neither of the men thought much of her. They could have at least asked how she was. It grew hard to breathe, her chest was so tight. I will not cry, I will not cry, I will not cry.
She hurried her walk so she wouldn’t have to talk to anyone, but after a while the pain was so excruciating she stepped off the trail and found a tree to sit under. Taking her knife she cut off the hem of her dress and tightly wrapped her swelling wrist. Then she awkwardly made herself a sling after she cut yet more of her dress. At least they were almost at their destination. After the last wagon went by, she carefully stood and got back on the trail. She hoped there was water where they would stop. Cool water would help with the swelling.
Oh Pa, why aren’t you here?
The pain made her sick to her stomach, and she had to stop many times, but she made it in before dark. No one had bothered to ride out to find her. All alone was a heartbreaking feeling. She’d never have known such heartache if they had never left their mountain.
Thankfully, there was water and she walked right by the wagons to it. She kicked off her shoes and walked into Barlow Creek where she took off her sling and unwrapped her wrist. The water was cold but there was no help for it. Letting her arm drop her wrist went right into the wonderful frigid water. It felt better already. Much better.
After wrapping the sling around her neck she massaged her wrist until her feet were numb. She’d have to walk downstream for a bit to find an easy way to exit the creek. It was a farther walk than she imagined, and when she went to get her shoes, they were gone. Her fur-lined moccasins had disappeared.
They wasn’t anything she could do about it so she wrapped her wrist back up with the wet cloth and put her arm in the sling. Dread filled her as she slowly walked to the wagon. She still had dinner to make. The fire already burning almost made her smile. Looking down a few wagons she saw her group of friends all eating and having a good time. She grabbed her cup and scooped some water out of the water barrel and went into her tent. She wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone. If they had cared they would have looked for her.
She had to practically tear the dress to get it off, and then she lay on the bed. It was so cold even after she piled the quilts on. Wool socks would have been great, but she wouldn’t have been able to put them on. She lay there wondering what exactly her sins had been. Yes, she’d made a mistake, but she had done her best. Tears came, and this time they wouldn’t be stopped.
Chapter Ten
The next morning Zander woke to find Tara already gone. He quickly dressed. They’d had some misunderstanding last night. Della, the minister’s wife told him she would pray with Tara. At first, he’d wondered how long praying could last, but he was assured by Heath and Declan she was probably having supper with them.
It wasn’t until it got late that he walked to the minister’s camp and found his fire banked for the night. He ran back to his own tent, and there she was sleeping. Why hadn’t she come to the fire to get him?
Upon exiting the tent, he didn’t see her either. The fire wasn’t going, and the coffee pot was empty. Where was she? He walked around the circle of wagons and finally spotted her in the creek. She was downstream. Gazing at her for a moment her realized she was hurt. He ran down to where she was.
“Tara, you’re hurt!”
She didn’t answer him she turned her back on him instead. He took off his boots and nearly cried out at the frigid water. How could she just stand there? He cupped her shoulders and turned her. When he saw her wrist he gasped.
“This happened yesterday?”
“Why do you think I couldn’t drive? But you never asked how I was. Neither did Harrison, for that matter, and he saw my wrist pinned under a heavy tree trunk too.” She shook her head. “I’m getting too soft hearted. I’ve started to rely on you and my friends, but I was better off alone. I’m so stupid thinking any of you would see my pain or try to help me. Didn’t you even care where I was? It was so cold last night that I swear I shook most of the night. If being married means my feelings get hurt at every turn, then it’s not for me. I tried to be what you wanted–wearing dresses, making extra special food, agreeing with you. But it got me nowhere. I’m just me, and I will not apologize for it. Now as soon as I find out who stole my moccasins, I’ll be on my way.”
Irritation sparked into anger, and he snapped, “No, you will not be on your way!”
“Why, Zander? You’re not done ignoring me? Not done making me feel like I don’t belong? I tried it your way, and I’m not up for any further abuse. You don’t even like me.” She trudged through the water and walked onto the bank. Then she wrapped her wrist again and put the sling in place. “Don’t get Big Red involved in this. He has someone who needs him.”
She stalked off bare footed.
He jumped out of the freezing water and followed his wife. She was absolutely infuriating! He stopped. Her wrist was all colors of purple and it looked double the size of her wrist and what did she mean someone took her shoes?
He scanned the camp and saw her moccasins on someone’s feet. He rounded their wagon and gritted his teeth. “Leona those moccasins don’t belong to you.”
“I know, but Eli gave them to me. He said they would help me heal. I want to heal, you know,” she replied crossly.
“Tara was the one who found you and she climbed down a cliff to see if you were still alive. Just give me the moccasins.” He held out his hand trying to think of other things than wringing Leona’s neck.
“Tara told me to keep them.”
“When was that?”
“A minute ago. She claimed they were hers, and I told her she was mistaken and she needed to leave a fine Christian woman like myself alone.” Leona smiled. “I’m keeping them.”
“You will not,” her father growled from the front of the wagon. “You’ve caused enough trouble this trip. You will return those moccasins to their rightful owner.”
Leona pouted the whole time she took them off and flung them at Zander. He didn’t care how he got them, the main thing was he had them.
He went to the wagon and found Big Red making breakfast with Rhetta’s help. Zander could have used a cup of coffee, but he needed Tara more. Without a word, Big Red motioned toward the tent with his head. Zander nodded his thanks.
He walked right into Tara as she was trying to leave the tent. She was carrying a burlap bag.
“At least put on your boots before you go.” He walked further into the tent and set the boots on the middle of the tick mattress covered with quilts. “I see you’ve packed up. Take a pair of my socks. I know you get cold without them. How are you going to feed yourself with a hurt wing?”
Tara's Trials (Romance on the Oregon Trail Book 4) Page 11