by Karen Baney
The mention of children reminded her of her bareness again, making it difficult to pay attention to the details of the ceremony. She hoped once they settled in Granite Creek she would finally be able to give Drew the family they both longed for. Realizing the ceremony started, she forced herself to listen.
Reverend Read opened the ceremony with one of his long formal prayers, so different from the way Hannah talked with God. Then, one of the judges swore in Governor Goodwin, Secretary McCormick, and others. After everyone was sworn in, Secretary McCormick stood and read the Governor’s Proclamation. Odd that the secretary should read it instead of the governor himself, Hannah thought.
Secretary McCormick continued reading with great animation. He announced a census that would take place in the coming months, outlined the judicial districts that would be formed, and mentioned a forthcoming election for members of the legislature. He confirmed that the seat of government would be located near Fort Whipple. Then, for some length of time, he read the governor’s plan for making the territory safe for settlers, at great expense to the natives, using such strong language such as “extermination.”
Hannah barely felt her feet, for the temperature continued to drop. Just when she thought she might return to the wagon, Secretary McCormick waved the Union flag and cut the ceremony short. Shivering uncontrollably, Hannah accepted Drew’s assistance back onto the wagon seat. The Arizona Territory now had an official government in the middle of a cold and dreary snow storm.
The rest of the journey for the day, Hannah spent huddled under layers of clothes, coats, and a blanket on the seat next to her husband. Did the governor really plan to kill all of the natives? Was it a matter of survival? Would she and Drew not be safe unless the Indians were all killed? It seemed rather extreme to Hannah, but then women had no mind for politics—at least that is what she had been taught all her life.
The image of the floating woman’s head returned from her nightmares. This wilderness held frightening dangers, threatening to rob her of any security she felt. She pleaded with God that she and Drew would be safe in the small settlement that would become their new home.
Home. It was almost within reach. Just a few more weeks away.
Miles of flat, treeless terrain stretched before them. The dark clouds hanging low in the sky continued pouring out a steady stream of snow. By the time the wagon train stopped for the night, the cold crumbled Hannah to exhaustion. Though she longed for a fire, she did not put up a fight when Drew asked her to conserve their wood and prepare a cold meal instead. For days, they had seen no trees or wood for fire. Unlike the prairies, there were no buffalo chips to act as a substitute. The only wood they had for fire was what little remained from their stay at Fort Wingate.
Since the snow still fell at a rapid pace, they ate the meal under the protection of the covered wagon. Winter days in Ohio had been this cold, but there Hannah had the advantage of a warm house and glowing fire to comfort her. Here, on the open desert plains, the wind howled and snow swirled relentlessly. The most comfort she could hope to find was wrapped in her husband’s arms as they shivered together under the weight of layers of blankets and clothing. What happened to the moderate climate reported in that Santa Fe newspaper?
After a quick cold breakfast, the team lurched forward creating the familiar sway of progress. It had been over a month since they left Santa Fe. Again the weariness of the trip weighed on Hannah. Cold and frustrated, she kept to herself. It took too much energy to stay warm, much less talk.
There was nothing about this forsaken frigid desert that Hannah found to be comforting. She longed for the cozy nights by the fireplace in the parlor of their home. She missed waking up in the morning and walking to kitchen to prepare breakfast, where everything was in order and simple. Here, everything grew more difficult, rather than easier the farther they traveled from home. Tears pooled in her eyes and she tried to hold them back, lest they freeze on her rosy wind-kissed cheeks. Since leaving Fort Wingate, she had yet to do laundry. It took too much firewood. Back home, she had the luxury of doing laundry several times a week if needed. She never thought about how blessed they had been in Ohio. Now she guiltily acknowledged how much she had taken for granted.
Several days passed in a similar icy blur. Each task was completed slowly and deliberately in the howling wind. Day after day, Hannah could not think past how chilled she was. There was nothing, save their wagon, to block the wind. Even after snow stopped falling from the sky, they were still pelted with snow being picked up by the wind. Would this misery ever end?
The next morning, the sun finally peeked through the heavy snow laden clouds. The respite from the weather gave Hannah an opportunity to bank a small fire. As she started making breakfast, she suddenly felt very ill. The flapjack she flipped mimicked the motion of her stomach. Leaving it, she quickly ran to the outside of the wagon corral and lost the contents of her stomach. She stood there a moment, taking a few deep breaths. When she thought it passed, she started to walk back toward the cook fire. No sooner had she taken another step and she felt the bile rise again. Heaving, she doubled over. She could smell the flapjack burning from here and it caused her to gag again. If suffering through the cold was not bad enough, now she had to endure sickness.
“Hannah!” Betty called running to her side.
“Here,” she managed to weakly reply.
“Oh dear! Here, brace yourself against the wagon and rest a moment. I’ll go get some water.”
Betty rushed back to the campfire and removed the flapjack from the heat. The burning smell dissipated by the time she returned with the water.
“Slow sips,” she admonished when Hannah tried to gulp the water. Placing her wrist on Hannah’s forehead she concluded Hannah did not have a fever. “How long have you been feeling ill?”
“It just came on suddenly this morning,” Hannah said, her voice frail. She wanted to collapse on the ground. Betty’s sturdy arm around her waist steadied her.
“Why don’t you lie down and I’ll see that your husband is fed.”
The world spun as Betty helped her into the wagon, making sure she was covered with warm blankets.
Drew returned and Hannah could hear Betty’s muted voice explaining what happened. In seconds he was at her side, as both a worried husband and a confident doctor.
“How long have you felt ill?” Drew frowned.
“Just this morning,” Hannah said.
He repeated the steps Betty already took, ensuring that she had no fever. He placed his hands on her abdomen and asked her if she felt any pain when he pressed in different areas. Hannah felt fine—except she was going to be sick again. She sat up quickly and managed to lean over the side of the wagon just in time. Worry etched deep lines in Drew’s forehead. She had seen this look before, usually when he was not certain what was wrong. Of course, he was probably worrying too much since it was his wife who was ill.
“Let me make you some tea to settle your stomach,” Drew offered. “I could give you some laudanum, but that is probably unnecessary. I think you should just rest in the wagon today.”
Lying back down, Hannah pulled blankets to her chin. When the tea finished steeping, Drew propped Hannah up so she could drink. After the soothing liquid was gone, he pushed her hair back from her face and kissed her forehead.
“Get some rest,” he said, the worried look still wrinkling his brow.
Hannah did as she was told. Although she faded in and out of sleep in the morning, she was much improved when the wagon train stopped for dinner. When Drew pulled the wagon to a halt, Hannah appeared through the opening. Still feeling slightly dizzy, she waited for Drew to help her down.
“Your color looks much better. How’s your appetite?” he asked.
Her stomach growled, answering for her.
Hannah set about making a quick meal for them, of which she ate a double portion. In the afternoon, she sat on the wagon seat next to Drew despite the cold air. As the day wore on, the queasiness dissipated and she
felt better.
Looking at the scenery around her, Hannah soaked in the beauty letting it lift her downtrodden spirit. A few multi-colored mountains rose to the north, jutting from the flat valley floor below. Painted in pinks, reds, oranges, rust, and gray, the mountains had bands of colors stacked one on top of the other. For miles the vibrant colors danced in the sunlight, contrasted sharply by the pure blue sky. Snow capped the upper most peaks, while shadows obscured the crevices. She stared mesmerized until the scene faded in the distance behind them, leaving a momentary serenity covering her.
Sighing, she watched as the endless flat desert dominated the landscape once again. She wondered what caused her bout of sickness that morning. Perhaps she had taken ill due to the numerous days of unending cold. Deciding to think on it no more, Hannah gave in to the soothing rocking of the wagon.
Over the next several days, Hannah continued to waver between heaving in the morning and being famished in the evening. What was wrong with her? Did she have some sort of weird sickness that only attacked her in the morning? She was growing concerned, but surely Drew would be able to tell her what was wrong? Or perhaps he already knew and she was dying? In that case, she was certain she did not want to know.
The governor’s expedition had been stranded in the San Francisco Mountains for several days following the new year. A blizzard struck without warning, dumping more than a foot of snow on the chilled travelers. For days, Drew huddled next to his wife, not leaving the minimal shelter of their wagon. The conditions outside were so harsh that neither he nor Hannah braved the weather except when it was absolutely necessary. Unfortunately, necessity was more frequent than he hoped, as Hannah continued to be sick each morning.
“Drew,” Hannah’s weak voice whispered next to him.
The lamenting tone sent him into motion. He hopped out onto the springboard seat and waited for his wife to follow. Then he jumped down, reaching up to ease her onto the soft blanket of snow. When her feet touched the ground, she swayed, leaning on him heavily for support. Placing his arm around her waist, he helped her hobble a few feet from the wagon. Dropping to her knees, she doubled over, retching violently.
His breath caught in his throat. She had been so sick and weak and cold. Kneeling in the snow was not wise, but she had no strength for standing. Rubbing her back, he waited at her side while her stomach settled. For nearly twenty minutes she sat there, wavering between shivering and retching. He could not even offer her some tea, as they were completely out of firewood.
At last, she nodded that she was ready to return to the wagon. After he lifted her to the seat, she waited until he climbed up and could help her back inside.
The bottom half of her dress was soaked. “Do you have another dress you can change into?”
She nodded. With slow movements, he helped her change out of the wet green calico into the pale blue one—his favorite. Relieved that her underskirts and bloomers were not soaked through, Drew wrapped his wife under layers of blankets. Chills shook her body. Rubbing her arms and legs vigorously, he tried to help speed up the warming process.
When she finally fell back asleep, he remained only a few minutes before leaving. He had to get some firewood. She needed a hot fire and some calming tea.
A circle of men stood in the center of camp.
“Looks like the sky is clear today,” Eli Jacobs said. “Most of the men should head up into the mountain to hunt elk or some other game. You, you, and you,” he said pointing to a few of the governor’s men and Drew, “will lead the young boys in searching for firewood. We need to gather enough for several days.”
When Eli finished, the men split up for their various tasks.
On his third trip back up the mountain, Drew took in the beauty. Peaks rose high above burdened with heavy snow. Aspen and pine trees poked through the blanket of white, offering some variation. As he climbed further up the mountain with some of the governor’s men, he turned and looked back down at the valley below.
The wagons were in their typical circle formation, with the campsites on the inside of the circle. There was little activity at the camp, as most of the travelers were bundled inside their wagons trying to keep warm. They ran out of firewood days ago and were grateful the snow stopped. Turning his focus back to the task at hand, Drew picked up several nice sized branches from the ground. It would be difficult to burn while wet from the snow, but it was better than no fire at all.
As he worked he thought of Hannah. She was not doing well and he could not think how to best help her. Thinking through the symptoms might help. Each morning she would wake and before she could finish preparing breakfast, she would run aside and lose the contents of her stomach. By dinner time she would start to feel better and managed to eat at least one meal. His doctor instincts told him something was definitely wrong, but…
Why didn’t he think of it before! She must be pregnant. He thought for a moment and calculated how long since they were in Santa Fe. It was six or seven weeks ago. Yes, this was definitely morning sickness. He would ask her when he returned to camp, but he was certain she was with child.
Relief that it was not something more serious filled him, quickly followed by joy—overflowing and overwhelming. He was going to be a father! At last! He wanted to shout and dance and share his news with everyone.
He longed to have a child. They both did. Drew’s excitement rose. If it was a boy, he would teach him how to fish, if there were fish in the Hassayampa River. If it was a girl, he would spoil her so much. He hoped she would be as beautiful as her mother. What names would they choose? Maybe Alexander after his father?
He remembered the brief image of his mind from weeks ago—the one where he saw Hannah with a toddler balanced on her hip. The picture held new meaning now, for it would soon be reality. He would have that son or daughter.
Thank you, Lord, for this long awaited child. Please let him grow to be healthy and strong. Keep Hannah safe and strong. He felt like dancing, as he continued to search for fuel.
Drew saw Lieutenant Harrison off in the distance to his right higher up the mountain. He was with the group of men hunting elk to feed the settlers. Since Harrison taught him how to shoot at Fort Wingate, Drew improved considerably, though not enough to join the hunting party. He changed direction away from Harrison to keep a safe distance from the hunters. Shots rang out, echoing off the mountain walls, as Drew reached a clearing. Someone must have hit their mark.
Soon the eerie quiet of the mountain turned to a low rumbling growing louder and more ominous by the second. Drew’s heart started pounding in reaction to the unnatural sound. He saw drifts of snow start to give way beneath him as he realized the danger. Looking up the mountain as he started to run, he knew it was too late. His feet started slipping from beneath him, unable to gain traction.
The wall of snow hit him full impact mid-stride, knocking the wind from his lungs. He was up then down, tumbling over, being tossed around by the force and helpless to make it stop. His leg struck something, a rock or perhaps a tree. The pain that shot through his body was fierce agony. Drew felt his body being carried away out of his control. He knew he was not going to get out of this without help. Panic seized him. Was he going to die on this mountain?
Then without warning, the motion ended abruptly. Drew felt the heavy weight of snow crushing his chest. He tried to open his eyes, but he could not. Everything was icy and cold and confining all around him. His throbbing leg became numb. He willed his arms to move but they were pinned underneath a heavy, immovable weight. He tried to take a breath, but no air refilled his desperate lungs.
The impossibility of the situation hit him full force as the lightheadedness clouded his thoughts. Lord, please take care of Hannah and our child. All went black.
Chapter 20
Lieutenant Joshua Harrison could not believe he just witnessed the death of his dear friend, Drew. One moment, he saw him gathering wood in the clearing. Rifle fire from further up the mountain reverberated loudly t
hrough the forest. He saw the avalanche start, just seconds before he heard the deep rumbling. Before he could blink, or even call out for his friend, the snow engulfed Drew in a mighty white wave.
Once the snow settled, he ran toward the last spot he saw his friend, hoping against fear that there might be some way to rescue him. As he got closer and closer, all hope faded. There was no way to tell how far Drew had been swept away or how deeply he was buried. He could dig for days and never find him. The aftermath of the avalanche spread over several hundred yards. Standing atop it, he realized his vantage point was at least six to ten feet higher than it had been before, without climbing in elevation. Falling to his knees he prayed if there was a way, that God would spare his friend.
The tears falling from his eyes froze before covering much distance down his face. He already knew the answer—the man who saved his life just lost his own.
Images of Drew’s kind face filled his vision. The laughter as Joshua made some joke. The sincere concern when he changed Joshua’s bandages. The hidden moments Joshua let him think he was sleeping, as the doctor prayed over his wound. The courage and fear that filled Drew’s eyes when he tried to teach him to shoot a rifle. The deep conviction when he spoke of matters of his faith. All of these things would be just memories of a friendship cut too short.
Joshua was not sure how long he knelt there before Bixley’s hand on his shoulder stirred him. One look at the sergeant told him he also witnessed the terrifying scene and had come to the same conclusion. Standing, Joshua led the way back down the mountain. Both men remained silent in reverence for the fallen doctor.
With strong determination, Joshua entered the inner circle of the wagon train. Ignoring all the questions from the other travelers, he headed straight for Hannah. She looked confused and scared. He did not want this dreadful task. How does one deliver the news to his best friend’s wife that she is now a widow?