Undeniable

by Laura Stapleton

  Beth looked at her cow eating instead of dwelling on the past week. She focused on the blue sky, green grass, and fishy smell of the water. She couldn’t decide which was more pungent, her animal’s dusty hide or the brackish river. If only a tree grew nearby, she could tie off Erleen and wash the dishes. She needed help, but didn’t want to trouble anyone. Instead, Beth looped the end of the rope around her wrist, knelt, and began cleaning plates. She scrubbed off the stubborn food with the river bottom sand. Grease from the morning’s bacon floated to the top, carried away by the current.

  One task of the morning chores done, Beth stood, her body stiff. Despite the warm sun, she shivered with a sudden chill. The air held a crisp coolness. She rather liked the feeling of warm days and crisp breezes. Yet, Beth shuddered with another wave of a clammy cold. Maybe this wasn’t her favorite after all. She scooped up her pail and clicked a couple times at Erleen. The cow stopped eating at the signal, ready to follow Beth wherever she led. Still flushed with her success, she crossed to the south bank without hesitation.

  Those who camped nearby had already added fuel to their fires for the noon meal. Beth walked through the faint smoke. The dirty air must be why her eyes watered so, she figured, tying Erleen to the wagon. Beth wiped away the tears. She glanced around, glad no one saw and questioned why she cried. She couldn’t muster the gumption to coax embers into a fire for the next meal, never mind explaining her sniffles and irritated eyes.

  She yawned and shook her head in an effort to push away the laziness. Her husband would want his food. As if her thoughts magically summoned him, he strolled around the corner. She smiled a greeting, which he ignored. Such a shame the same powers didn’t work on Mr. Granville, she mused. Even impersonal, she much preferred his easy company over Daggart’s sullen one. She glanced over at him as he sat down with a thud. “Do you have any plans for today?” Beth asked. “Or are we able to cross the Platte before nightfall?”

  He sighed, throwing rocks into the fire. “No. I don’t have any plans. Can’t cross yet. The line’s too long. Can’t go to the fort. Need the money for later.” Daggart picked up another handful of gravel. “Talk around here is to leave behind what you can. Ain’t no use in pullin’ a heavy wagon up and down mountains.”

  She sat down beside him, hoping to learn more about their journey. “From what I’ve seen, nothing looks all that steep.”

  “That’s what I said, but the hands just laughed. Said all we’d seen so far is foothills.” He watched a couple walk by, adding, “The hands last night said a few wagons headed to Oregon lost all their oxen before reaching Fort Bridger. They’d been trying to bring the whole farmstead to the Territory in one wagon.”

  She’d seen various foodstuffs strewn about older campsites. “I though about salvaging some of the flour but figured everything edible left out had spoiled somehow.”

  “Naw, everything I saw was picked over. One family I saw leavin’ behind all sorts of things had been told to trade if they could, leave it if they couldn’t.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Of course no one left me any whisky or seed money for my gold mine.”

  Chuckling, Beth asked, “You did check, though?” She smiled at him. At least now his eyes weren’t red from drinking.

  “Yeah,” he yawned. “Thought about not botherin’, but sure as I didn’t, some fool would have dropped both thinkin’ he didn’t need them.” Daggart went on, “There’s a lot more belongin’s the closer you get to the ferry site. Like, the nearer they got, the heavier the load got.”

  “Is there a difference in cost to get across the river when a wagon is heavy?”

  He whistled. “I didn’t notice. They go more by the space they take up on the ferry. A man on a horse, even with loaded saddlebags, don’t pay nothin’. There was one family, two wagons, all these oxen, and three of the men had horses. They paid more than we had at the beginnin’ of the trail.” He shrugged. “They shoulda left behind a wagon. When those ox start dyin’ off, they won’t need it anyway.” He stood as if kicked in the butt. “We need to dump everythin’ we don’t need to dig gold.”

  Beth stood also, the sudden movement making her lightheaded. She took a couple of deep breaths while Daggart climbed into the wagon. After recovering a little, she went through a quick inventory of what they carried. She followed him. “I don’t know what we could leave behind and still live.”

  He had the lid open to her trunk, peering inside. “We don’t need any of this. Maybe the Bible, but I don’t expect to have time for much churchin’ when we should be prospectin’. Maybe your wool for cold weather clothes, but not these fancy blankets.” Daggart held up one to examine. “Did Lizzy make this?”

  His referring to her sister directly surprised Beth and she blurted, “No, our mother and grandmother did. I will not leave it behind.” As an added incentive, she thought to add, “It was Lizzy’s favorite.”

  “Oh.” With a reverence she’d not seen often in him, he folded the blanket. Daggart put it back in the trunk and closed the lid. “Maybe over here is something I can take out.”

  Another wave of weakness went through Beth. “I’m not feeling very well.” She held on to the wagon for support. Maybe her monthlies had left her more puny than usual, she reckoned. Beth retrieved her bedroll. “I might need to lie down for a while until this passes. We have leftover biscuits from earlier and jam next to them for your lunch.” At his grunt of a reply, she settled for a nap in the wagon’s shadow.

  Beth slept the entire afternoon, only rousing at unfamiliar or loud noises. Even then, she never reached full consciousness. She woke up only after Daggart wouldn’t stop shaking her. Seeing the sun inching lower, the shadows long, she sat up with a start. “Dinner! Oh my! I need to get started.”

  “Yeah, I’m hungry,” Daggart said as if to an idiot.

  His sharp tone pushed past her reluctance. He rarely hit her while sober. She didn’t want to tempt him into doing so again. Beth began the motions of cooking, her stomach rebelling at the aroma of others’ campfires. The food smelled good for the most part, but nothing quelled the sharp pangs of nausea at the thought of eating. Her mouth watered with the threat of illness and she paused until the feeling passed. Had she eaten something, Beth wondered, or did the water have poison already? She had seen a place called Poison Springs on Mr. Lawrence’s map and knew it to be close.

  She rushed through fixing his food, focusing on getting done and getting away from the smell. Handing him his plate, she said, “Excuse me, I have some chores to do.” At his shrug, Beth left for anywhere away from the intense odors. She didn’t want to go near the water, of course, so she went to look at all the items discarded by others. As she walked among the graveyard of junk, Beth shook her head at the waste. Some of the wagons, nicer than any her family had ever owned, lay in pieces, pulled apart for firewood. Children’s toys, books, clothes, all scattered as if thrown there in a hurry.

  Wondering how many of the former owners died of a sickness kept Beth from claiming anything. She turned back to camp, leaving everything behind. If smallpox could be used in blankets to kill Indians, it could kill her now. The faint feeling returned and she wanted to lie down for the evening.

  The fire burned low, Daggart was gone, and the dishes, still dirty, lay stacked in the pail. She needed to give Erleen and the oxen water and food, but felt too weak. Beth put the back of her hand to her forehead. She promised herself to give the dishes a lick and a promise in the stream, bringing back water for the livestock. Once done with the abbreviated chores, she shook her bedroll for critters, and settled in for sleep.

  Late that night, wolves howling in the distance woke her. She shivered, drenched in sweat, and feeling far too vulnerable out in the open. Beth shook Daggart awake. “I hear wolves outside.”

  He grunted. When she shook him again, he groaned, saying, “The watch knows. Go back to sleep.”

  Another howl, this one sounding very close, startled her. She fretted about Erleen. “What
if they attack our animals?”

  “It’s their problem tonight and my shooting practice tomorrow.” He turned over away from her in a huff. “Leave me alone.”

  She lay back down, still worried. Beth knew Daggart’s accuracy. If a betting person, she’d place odds on the wolves over him any day. Hopefully whoever patrolled tonight shot straighter than her brother-in-law ever did.

  Morning noises woke her from a dream of singing wolves. She smiled at the foolishness and opened her eyes a little. Daggart gone, she closed her eyes again as a wave of dizziness swept her. Maybe he was off getting breakfast somewhere else. She rather liked him not pestering her for food. The spinning world feeling subsided, even if the sick feeling in her stomach didn’t. She rested for a moment longer.

  The quiet in the camp worried her a little. Beth struggled to sit. Once upright, she waited until the dizziness subsided, saw the empty camp and fainted.

  Chapter 13

  Day three and Nick had hoped for better than this. The time spent waiting to cross the ferry passed by as if the clock ran backward. He wanted to spend every second with Beth, not avoiding her like a typhoid carrier. Picking at a breakfast he didn’t want to eat, Nick sighed. The crew kept him entertained, and he liked most of the people in his care. Yet, they weren’t her.

  Sam swallowed a bite of pancake. “Too bad you never found an elixir for lovesickness. It might improve your horrible mood.”

  On edge from his younger brother’s chipper behavior and a lack of seeing Beth, Nick retorted, “So sue me, jackass.”

  “Oh ho ho! Such a bad example for your younger, innocent brother!” He held out his hand. “Give me, if you’re not going to eat that.”

  “Fine.” Nick passed Sam his plate. “This is all slop anyway.”

  With his mouth full, Sam said, “If so, I blame the cook.”

  He stood, retorting, “Thank you. Noon and dinner are yours, then.” He went to the animals, getting them ready for crossing later this morning. Nick planned to let them graze once on the other side. With only one group in front of them, the Granville party didn’t have long to wait. He counted on Sam to clean up while he hitched up the oxen. Each animal got a scratch between the ears as Nick worked.

  They didn’t have a lot of cattle to swim across the river. Most families had at least one, but no more than five. He wanted to go see Beth, make sure she knew how safe the ferry was. He paused in his chores. Staying away from her had been his idea. Nick needed the time to cool his feelings. If he couldn’t keep his own ardor in check, how could he ask her to do so? As long as she stayed with Bartlett, Beth had to know Nick wouldn’t see her as anything more than a client.

  “Nicky!”

  He returned her greeting, “Amellie!” and smiled at her laugh.

  “We’re next!” She clapped her hands in a cheer. “Monsieur Claude told me of how difficult the remaining journey will be. I’m ready to get started and be done with it. How about you?”

  Grinning at her exuberance, he nodded. “I have to admit, the next week or so will be tough on everyone.”

  “Once we’re done with that part of the journey, we’ll be fine, won’t we?”

  Exhaling, he wondered how much to tell her about the land ahead. Two thirds of the trail remained, with most of the flattest part behind them. He’d spent the prior days’ delay encouraging families with four or fewer oxen to trade or leave the less essential belongings. Animals pulling heavy loads sickened faster than those with easier work. A land with alkali water, if any, ensured disease and death among the dehydrated stock. Nick smiled to reassure her as much as himself. “We’ll be fine. Sam and I have traveled this route. While there’ll be unexpected events, I’m sure everyone will be fine.”

  She toyed with her collapsible fan, a slight shake of her hands betraying her nerves. “I’m not sure I like the type of surprises a wilderness could provide.”

  In a hope to reassure her, he said, “A few are good, but most can be bad.”

  Playfully hitting him with her fan, Amelia asked, “How about we think of the good? What are they again?”

  Nick shrugged, enjoying teasing her. “Monsieur Claude may have something special for you and will tan my hide if I ruin it for him.”

  Amelia stepped up to him, putting her hand on his chest and pleaded, “You have to tell me.”

  “And ruin his surprise for you?” He took a step back as if to escape. Plus, Nick didn’t want Beth to see the girl touching him and thus think he was interested. “Monsieur may have nothing planned anyway.”

  “You rotten man.”

  “Better you think so than him. He’s meaner.” A whistle caught his attention. Nick looked over to see Mr. Lucky give a signal. Turning to Amelia, he said, “They’re ready for us. Let your family know.”

  She gave a little cheer and hurried to her own camp. Nick watched her go for a moment, smiling. If Mr. Bartlett’s wife had truly resembled her, he could see why the man still mourned. His own Sally lacked Amelia’s effervescence, but he’d loved her calm quiet in chaotic circumstances. Beth had the same trait most times, he’d observed, but not in all. He grinned when thinking of how she’d lost her temper when they first met. He’d loved how such a sweet looking woman held such a fiery interior. Nick had expected familiarity would breed contempt. With another man’s wife, he’d hoped for it. He’d not counted on falling a little more in love with her each day.

  The family in front of him rolled onto the ferry, shaking Nick from his daydream. Seated on Buck, he clicked at the oxen and they snapped to attention. Another two clicks when the ferry returned and they followed him. Sam paid the fare while Nick made sure both of their wagons loaded without trouble.

  Once across, he lead his group on out of the way of others disembarking. When looking for Beth, he noticed how the Bartlett wagon lagged behind as usual. Nick watched from a slight hill as Daggart paid the man and loaded their wagon. From this distance, he couldn’t see Beth. Something seemed wrong, he thought, causing a tightness in his chest. He’d feel better after catching some glimpse of her, even from so far away. The Bartlett wagon reached the other bank and he still didn’t see her. Nick imagined she must have ridden inside.

  Upon seeing Lawrence’s signal, he knew everyone ferried over just fine. He breathed a sigh of relief. No stock lost this time, and even better, no people. Now, on to the task of getting them through the waiting desert. When Sam rode up to him, Nick knew what he was going to say and asked, “Camp for the night at noon?”

  “Yes, and you’re the last person I had left to tell.”

  “Very well.” Sam and his mount didn’t continue on and instead fell into step with him and Buck. “We’re not going to talk, are we?”

  Sam tipped up his hat, replying, “We don’t have to, no.”

  “Good.” Nick wondered how long the easy silence would last.

  After a mile or so, the younger brother said, “You don’t have to tell me what you’ll do at Fort Bridger.”

  He shrugged. “I hadn’t planned on doing anything.”

  “Nothing when she heads south instead of west?”

  Nick heard the disbelief in his voice. “That’s her decision.”

  “You’ll let her go?”

  “It’s not my choice unless I want to kidnap her.”

  “Hm. That’s a thought.”

  If he didn’t know better, Nick could consider his brother’s tone as encouraging. “Not a legal one, or have you suddenly forgotten everything from university?”

  “No, I still remember a few things,” he said. “A law about kidnapping still being illegal is one of them.”

  “Legality doesn’t matter.” He continued despite Sam’s beginning of a protest, “I want her only if she wants me. She has this displaced loyalty to her brother-in-law and a deathbed promise to a man who clearly did not have her best interests in mind. Add in a lot of guilt over her sister’s death and it’s a problem I’d like to solve for her.” Nick wanted to give Beth a better life than Bart
lett offered and had to at least convince Sam he could do so. “Have you seen her smile?”

  “Yes, a few times.”

  “She’s beautiful when she’s happy and she’s happy being Beth, not Lizzy. You should have seen the first time I accidently called her by her real name.” Nick grinned. “She looked shocked, of course, but smiled at me. A man would do a lot to receive a smile like that from her.”

  “Um hm.”

  Sam’s lack of a reply discouraged Nick from saying anything else. He’d rather think of how to see Beth this evening or next anyway. After several minutes, none of the excuses to talk with her seemed plausible. He sighed. Maybe just waiting for an opening to see her would be best. He’d find a reason to search for her when the group reached the far off foothills ahead.

  While the distant blue mountains never neared, an approaching thundercloud darkened the western sky. Nick said, “I think we have another half mile before stopping.”

  Sam also looked at the storm. “Maybe as much as a mile, but I wouldn’t count on it.”

  Hearing the siren song of opportunity, he said, “I’ll go to the back and tell the stragglers. You can take the lead.”

  “Impressive try. I’ll tell the Bartletts. You tell the leaders when to halt.” Both left to carry out their duties before the storm hit. They unhitched their animals, tying them on the sheltered side of their wagons. When done, they checked on everyone else. The gust front hit and the day darkened to twilight hues. A strong smell of rain felt like a physical touch due to the thick air. Huge splats of drops, then the pings of hail hit their wagon’s canopy. Nick peered out to check on their animals. The wind blew horizontally hard enough so the wagon sheltered them. He sat back, relieved.