By mid-morning, discouraged searchers began to straggle back to the camp.
“Not a trace of her. Sorry, Mrs. Bryan.”
“We scoured the woods. There’s just no place left to look.”
A glazed look of despair covering her face, Ma could barely manage a reply. Despite Sarah’s pleas, she refused to eat.
By noon, the disheartened members of the wagon train had all returned. Sarah’s father and brother were the last ones back. Shoulders sagging in discouragement, Pa sat by the campfire beside his wife and took her hand. “Our girl is gone, dear. Lord knows what’s become of her.”
“No, no, no!” Ma stared at him wild-eyed. “Florrie’s out there somewhere. You must keep looking.”
Hiram knelt by his mother’s side. “We’ve looked everywhere, couldn’t find a trace.”
“Then keep looking. I won’t leave without my Florrie.” Ma clenched her jaw and looked away.
Albert Morehead appeared at their campsite. Ma rose to greet him. “Tell me you’ve found her.”
Morehead swept off his hat, regretfully shaking his head. “We can’t find her, Mrs. Bryan. Scoured the woods. Looked everywhere. I can’t think what happened to her unless she ran off by herself and—”
“Florrie would never run off!” Ma’s eyes blazed with anger.
“Then…of course, she wouldn’t.” For once the confident leader of the wagon train appeared unsure of himself. “It’s surely a mystery, and I don’t know the answer, but the thing is we’ve got a schedule to keep. We can’t—”
“But you must keep looking.” Ma turned a shade paler than she already was. “We can’t leave without her.” She turned to her husband. “Tell him, Frank.”
Pa bit his lip. “They can’t find her, Luzena. They can’t wait around forever.”
Desperation flared in Sarah’s chest. She stepped beside her mother and looked the wagon master square in the eye. “Florrie can’t have gone very far. Surely someone will find her if we search long enough. You can’t—”
“Sorry, Sarah.” Morehead turned to Ma. “I have no choice, Mrs. Bryan. The others want to leave and there’s no stopping them.”
The desperate look on Ma’s face changed to one of stubborn resolve as comprehension dawned. “Go ahead if you must, but I’m not leaving until we find Florrie.”
The wagon master let loose a breath that was half sympathy, half frustration. “You must come with us. There’s no point in staying. Besides, it’s dangerous to be alone on the trail. Indians—wild animals—you would not do well by yourselves. What about your food supply? Don’t forget winter is coming. God forbid you should get stuck in the snow.”
“We’re staying.”
Morehead sighed in defeat. “I see I can’t dissuade you.” He looked at Pa. “Try to make her see reason, Mr. Bryan. I’ll check back before we leave.” He turned on his heel and hurried off.
A stirring began around the circle of wagons. Parents called for their children. Oxen bellowed as they were yoked. Ma looked around the campground, eyes wide with shock. “They’re really leaving? Oh, they can’t, they can’t!” As if she’d lost all her strength, she fell to her knees and put her head in her hands.
Pa knelt beside her. “You’d best reconsider, Luzena. Morehead’s right. There’s nothing to be gained by staying.”
“But there is.” Ma talked through her sobs. “How will Florrie find us if we don’t stay right here in this very spot? I can’t bear to think how hurt and bewildered she’ll be when she comes back and finds us gone.”
Sarah knelt and faced her distraught mother. She reached out and took her hands. “I’m afraid Pa’s right.” She spoke as gently as she could. “You’re not thinking clearly right now. We don’t know what’s happened to Florrie, but there’s no reason to stay in this godforsaken spot. Look around you. The wilderness is a dangerous place. It’s best we stay with the train. That way, we can inquire along the way and…” Why go on? Judging from the mad desperation in her mother’s eyes, further words were worthless. Nothing could comfort her right now. Most certainly nothing was going to change her mind. Sarah looked at Pa. “Why don’t we at least stay the night? We can search the rest of the day, and tomorrow we can search some more. Then it shouldn’t be too hard to catch up with the train.”
Hiram and Becky stood listening. “That’s a good idea,” Hiram said.
“No, it’s not!” Becky jammed her fists to her waist and scowled. “I refuse to let myself be stranded in this awful place. There’s wild animals and snakes out there, and Indians and God knows what else. I’m sorry Florrie’s lost, but I refuse to stay. I want the protection of the company.”
Becky’s words caused Ma to set her chin in a stubborn line. “The rest of you can go if you want, but I’m staying right here to wait for my daughter.”
One by one, the wagons took their assigned place in line. As they slowly rolled from the meadow, the family did its best to dissuade Luzena Bryan from remaining behind. She grew silent, jaw firmly clenched, oblivious to all arguments. Finally Frank Bryan shrugged in defeat and addressed his son and daughter. “I give up. Short of hog-tying your mother and tossing her in the wagon, there’s nothing more I can do.” He cast a sorrowful look at his wife. “You win, Luzena. We’ll stay behind with our wagon. Hiram, you and Becky will take your wagon and move on. Sarah will go with you.”
Sarah raised a protesting hand. “I will not leave my mother.”
Hiram’s blue eyes filled with pain. “That won’t work. What kind of a son would I be if I left my parents alone in the wilderness?”
Becky glared daggers at her husband. “How dare you even think we’d stay behind? I won’t hear of it. We’re going with the company and that’s that.”
“She’s right,” said Pa. “Son, there’s no use you staying. Go with the company.”
Ma nodded in agreement. “Go, the three of you. Florrie will soon be back, and then we’ll catch up.”
“We’re going!” Becky screeched.
Sarah wanted to cover her ears. The Bryans had always been a peaceful clan. Harmony and good manners ruled in their household. What small differences they had were settled quietly without bickering. This was horrible, seeing her family torn apart by this sudden, shocking tragedy. There was only one way to handle this, and they’d better listen. “Hiram, you and Becky go with the train. I’ll stay behind because Ma needs me.” She crossed her arms. “Save your breath and don’t argue. I won’t change my mind.”
Becky gave her a satisfied smile. “Thanks, Sarah, that’s the perfect solution.”
I’m not doing this for you. Sarah looked toward her brother. “We will catch up. If we don’t, we’ll find you at Uncle William’s house in Mokelumne City.”
Biting his lip in thought, Hiram hesitated. Despite her plucky words, Sarah halfway wished her brother would stand up to his belligerent wife and declare they were staying. But no such luck. “All right, Becky, we’ll go.” Hiram turned to Sarah. “I hope you understand.”
Oh, I understand all right. Sarah hid her disappointment and gave him a smile. “You’ve made the right decision. Don’t worry, we’ll be fine. Florrie will show up soon. Then we’ll catch up with you before you know it.” Brave words, but she must remain optimistic. Florrie had to come back. She couldn’t bear the thought her beloved sister had disappeared forever.
As the last wagon left the meadow, Albert Morehead, riding horseback, returned for the last time. Looking down, he addressed Luzena. “You haven’t changed your mind?”
Ma folded her arms firmly across her chest. “No, I have not, Mr. Morehead.”
The wagon master sighed in defeat. “I’m sorry your daughter is lost and will pray that you find her.” His sympathetic gaze took in the entire family. “The best of luck to you all.” He turned his horse to leave but rounded back again. “By the way, there’s a small company of gold seekers coming through, by tomorrow I should guess. Rascals, the lot of them. Whate
ver you do, stay away from them. There’s one in particular you must avoid. Some of my men encountered him back in Independence. Lost all their money, thanks to that card shark.
“What’s his name?” Pa asked.
“Goes by the name of Jack McCoy. A scoundrel and ne’er-do-well if ever there was one.”
Chapter 2
After the last wagon departed, Sarah spent the rest of the day in the woods calling for Florrie, listening for an answering cry that never came. By evening, her appreciation of her brother had grown by leaps and bounds. She had never realized how much of the workload fell on Hiram’s shoulders. Pa, who’d never done hard labor in his life, had little to no aptitude for the hard work involved in driving a wagon across the country. It was Hiram who yoked and unyoked the oxen on both wagons, greased the wheels, built the campfire, found feed for their eight oxen and two horses, pitched the tents at night, and so much more. During the day, Pa drove their wagon because he had to. Other than that, he’d been content to let his son attend to the chores while he sat around the campground with similar-minded neighbors, discussing such topics as “manifest destiny” and why the United States must extend across the entire continent. He frequently quoted his favorite poet, Henry David Thoreau, with phrases such as “Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you’ve imagined.”
Lately Ma greeted his remarks with a scornful sniff. “Right now the life I imagine is a soft bed and a roof over my head.”
With Hiram gone, Sarah assumed Pa would take over the tasks that needed to be done. Instead, when they returned from their search, he wearily sank to a seat by the campfire and waited for his supper. That they might need firewood never occurred to him. He looked so tired and drawn she didn’t have the heart to complain. Instead, she gathered sticks and branches herself, clumsily chopped them with an ax, and built the fire for their supper. Ma usually did the cooking, but tonight Sarah fixed biscuits, beans, and bacon while Ma sat silently by, occasionally throwing an angry glance at Pa. Not like her at all. Luzena loved her husband dearly, and he loved her. They never quarreled, but it was plain to see Ma was getting agitated. Each glance seemed angrier than the last until, while Pa was taking the last bite from his plate, Ma declared, “This is all your fault, Frank.”
Startled, he asked, “What’s my fault?”
Ma bristled. “All of this.” Her sweeping gesture took in the camp and surrounding forest. “You’re the one who insisted we come on this horrible journey. If it weren’t for you, I’d be sitting in my beautiful home in Indiana, and Florrie…Florrie…” She choked and could not go on.
“But that’s not so, my dear…”
Sarah shut out their voices. This whole disaster was her father’s fault, yet Ma wasn’t being fair. Never a good businessman, he couldn’t recover when his newspaper went bankrupt. Deep in debt, he was forced to sell the family’s home. Perhaps they could have stayed and somehow survived, but with unaccustomed firmness, Pa announced they were moving to California. Everyone assumed he, along with thousands of others, wanted to rush to the newly discovered goldfields, but his motive for moving was far less exciting. Mokelumne City was a small town in California, not far from Sacramento. When his brother offered a partnership in his general store there, Pa gratefully accepted. Others might get carried away by the prospect of picking huge gold nuggets off the ground, but he valued peace and security far more.
Like most of the women on the wagon train, Ma hadn’t wanted to go. Sarah didn’t either, although after her disastrous marriage, she would have been grateful to be back with her family, no matter where they went. No one suspected how awful her marriage had been. She’d never told. Even after Joseph died, she played the part of the grieving widow, fooling everyone. Well, not quite. Her perceptive brother guessed how miserable she’d been. Before they left Fort Wayne, Ma had wondered why she showed no interest in the suitors who’d begun to call. One of these days, she’d be honest and explain why.
Sarah slept fitfully during the night in the small tent pitched beside the wagon. Along with the eerie howling of the wolves, an unending swirl of unanswered questions kept her awake. Would they find Florrie? How much longer would Ma want to stay and search? Would they be able to catch up to the Morehead train? Loneliness gnawed at her. She missed her friends back home and the new friends she’d made on the train. She missed her brother, Hiram, the only member of her family who could even begin to understand her troubled heart. “Do you really miss Joseph?” he’d asked the day after the funeral.
“Why do you ask?”
Hiram got a quirky eyebrow-raised expression on his face. “They all think you’re grieving, but I know you, and I’d wager you’re not.”
She and her younger brother had always been close. She gave him a vague answer but wasn’t the least surprised he’d seen the truth. “I’ll tell you all about it when I’m ready.”
“That’ll be soon, I hope.” He eyed her with concern. “All you do is read and paint your little pictures. You need to get out more. Why throw the rest of your life away because of one bad experience?”
“I’m content as I am,” she’d told him, and she was. What more in life could she want than her watercolors, her books—she loved the works of Jane Austen—and feeling safe and secure in her parents’ home? This trip was simply an unpleasant interlude. When they reached Mokelumne City, she’d take up where she left off. Back home, she’d belonged to the Thursday Afternoon Ladies Literary Club. Maybe she’d start one in Mokelumne City. She would go to church on Sunday and do good works for the sick and poor. That was all she wanted out of life.
The next morning, she was up at dawn, had a fire going and coffee boiling by the time her parents emerged from the wagon. “What shall we do today, Ma? Shall we catch up with the train?” She held her breath, hoping her mother had decided to give up this hopeless search and get back to safety.
“We’ll keep looking.”
Sarah hid her disappointment. “All right, then. Maybe Florrie decided to go back the way we came. That’s where I’ll ride today.”
Pa looked skeptical. “Don’t know why she’d do that.”
“Neither do I, but do you have any better idea?”
Of course he didn’t. After breakfast, while Pa scoured woods they’d already searched, Sarah saddled Rosie, their chestnut mare, and set out on the barely discernable trail from which they’d come. If not for her worry over Florrie, she would have enjoyed her ride through the thick forest of pines, firs, and white-barked sycamores while the sun warmed her face and the pleasant scent of the evergreens wafted into her nostrils. Thank goodness, she didn’t have to ride sidesaddle anymore. Pa had sold her sidesaddle before they left, and she hadn’t been the least bit sorry to see it go. How nice to plant both feet firmly in the stirrups. One good thing about a wagon train journey was many of society’s old, tedious rules were forgotten. Good. She was finding she liked it that way.
Every once in a while, she’d rein in her horse and call, “Florrie?” Nothing followed but silence, broken only by birds chirping and the gurgle of a nearby stream. Where is my sister? Anguish tore at her heart. Oh, Florrie, what has become of you? Are you all right, or has something awful happened?
She rode for at least an hour. Far enough. Better turn back. She’d rest a while, drink some water from the stream, and then return. She tied Rosie to a tree and was sitting on a rock by the gurgling water when a group of men on horseback, followed by a single wagon, came into view. As they drew closer, she searched for a woman in the crowd, but no, this wasn’t an ordinary wagon train. These were all men, moving at a fast clip. This must be the company of gold seekers Mr. Morehead had warned them about. Her first impulse was to run and hide, but one of horsemen had already caught sight of her. Her heart beat faster as he rode to where she sat by the stream and dismounted. She rose to greet him, immediately catching a whiff of whiskey mixed with stale sweat. How disgusting. His looks were disgusting, too. Unkempt black hair
sticking out from beneath a battered hat, big red nose, scraggly, tobacco-stained beard, wrinkled, spotted clothes that could use a good wash.
“Well, look what I found!” the man called to his companions. His insolent gaze swept her up and down. “Hello, little lady. What are you doing here?”
She didn’t like the way the man was looking at her with his bold, beady eyes. Anxiety shot through her. More than ever, she wanted to run, but she’d been raised to observe the social graces. She’d be polite if it killed her, and maybe it would. Good manners decreed she give him a polite answer. “Good morning. My name is Sarah Gregg. I’m with the Morehead Company. My sister disappeared two days ago, and that’s why—”
“Your sister!” The man let out a raucous laugh and addressed the eight other horsemen who’d ridden up. “Do you hear that? There’s more than one of ‘em out here.” He stepped closer. “Are you all by yourself?”
His rotten, whiskey-laden breath made her want to wretch, but she kept the smile on her face. “My wagon train is right up ahead.”
With a smirk, the bearded man looked back at his friends again. “Do you believe that, boys? I say there ain’t no wagon train up ahead. I say this pretty little lady’s all by herself.”
As the men on horseback replied with hoots and jeers, sick fear coiled in the pit of her stomach. They all looked as slovenly as this man, most with unkempt beards, not one friendly face among them. No more polite conversation. She was in trouble. She must get away. If she didn’t…
Wagon Train Sisters (Women of the West) Page 2