by Karen Baney
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Hannah heard the shot and assumed the hunting party took victory. She smiled at thought of how good fresh meat would taste, now that she seemed to be regaining her appetite. Hopefully Drew would be back with some firewood soon. She was tired of the constant freezing and longed for the warmth of a fire.
Then, hearing a terrifying thunderous sound, she hurried out of the wagon and looked towards the mountain, placing her hand above her eyes to shield them from the brightness of the sun reflecting off the snow. A giant swell of snow was coursing down the side of the peaks, swallowing everything in its path. Her heart leapt to her throat. Drew was out there and could be in danger!
As quickly as the avalanche started, it faded away long before threatening the camp.
She wasn’t sure how long they all stared at the mountain before some men grabbed shovels and headed toward a different group of men coming down. The men coming down did not even stop to converse. They were walking with purpose—straight for her. Her heart lodged in her throat. The man leading the way was Lieutenant Harrison. His face was pale and his blue eyes had lost their laughter. His gaze connected with hers for the briefest moment, then quickly darted away. He stopped directly in front of her. Looking up, Hannah felt the breath rush from her lungs in fearful anticipation.
“Mrs. Anderson,” he stated, reaching for her hands. “Hannah, I’m sorry, but,” his voice catching as she numbly tried to pull her hands back. Tightening his hold and regaining his control, he finished “Drew was directly in the path. There is no possibility of survival.”
Hannah heard a loud shrieking wail pierce the silence with heart rending grief. As her knees started to buckle, she realized the sound had come from her. She barely felt Lieutenant Harrison grasp her arms to keep her from falling. Sobs poured forth. Wailing erupted from the depths of her soul. Her body shook uncontrollably. He could not be gone. He was her love, her life. God, how could you take him? I love him so. I need him. I cannot possibly live without him. He is a part of me. Why?
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Joshua steadied Hannah and allowed her to cling to him as if her own life depended on it, her grip powerful and cutting into his arm. He was aware of the growing crowd and their questions, but he knew he needed to get Hannah to calm down. The broken shrieking sounds erupting from this formerly quiet, gentile woman, shredded his already broken heart.
Leading her to the wagon, he helped her climb up on the seat, sitting next to her. Not knowing what else to do, he placed his arms around her. He hoped his compassion would give her some comfort. Silently he prayed for her, that God would not leave her and that she would be able to heal from this dreadful blow, for he was certain it was just that. Many times he witnessed hints at the deep abiding love shared between Drew and Hannah. How does one go on after losing someone so intertwined?
After a while, Mrs. Lancaster came by with some water, her eyes red-rimmed as well. Hannah was still crying but not with the same force. Climbing up next to Hannah, Mrs. Lancaster wrapped her in a warm embrace, freeing Joshua from his duty. Her eyes said that it was alright for him to leave Hannah in her care.
Stiffly he retreated from the wagon, headed towards his tent. Joshua fought the raw emotion that welled within him. Drew was gone. Not only did he save Joshua’s life when he suffered from that bullet wound, but Drew also led him to the one who saved his soul. He answered all of Joshua’s questions about God, no matter how silly or insignificant they seemed—questions that dogged him for years. And in the process, the two men became fast friends. Joshua taught Drew how to shoot a rifle, how to watch the sky for signs of approaching weather, how to watch the area around him for danger. But, it had not been enough to keep him from such an awful death.
What would become of Hannah? Who would drive her wagon the rest of the way to Granite Creek? What would she do to survive in this wilderness?
As he neared his tent, Sergeant Bixley approached. “Lieutenant Harrison, Major Willis is asking for you.”
Numbly, Joshua walked towards the major’s tent. He noticed the hunting party returned and butchered several elk. Food that cost him his friend’s life, he thought bitterly. Fires were now blazing. They would have both the heat and food they needed. Yet, the thought did not bring him much comfort.
Stepping into the major’s tent, he cleared his throat. “Sir?”
“Lieutenant, sit down. Fill me in on what happened,” requested the major. Joshua—the lieutenant—recounted the story emotionlessly with the practiced ease of an experienced officer. In truth, he was thankful for his military training in moments like these, for Joshua—the man—would not be quite so composed. After finishing his report, he requested permission to leave. The major dismissed him, but Joshua hesitated.
“Is there something else, Lieutenant Harrison?” the major asked.
“Yes sir.” Joshua paused as the thought from mere seconds ago, fell from his lips, “With your permission, sir, I would like to drive Mrs. Anderson’s team for the remainder of the journey. I feel it is my duty to see her safely to her destination.” It was the least he could do for the man he owed his own life.
“Harrison, this is most irregular,” sputtered Major Willis, “but, I will agree to it. Have Sergeant Bixley provide me with the daily reports. He can also keep watch over your men until we reach Fort Whipple. At that time, I will expect you to return to your duties.”
“Thank you, sir,” Joshua replied this time leaving the tent when dismissed. With determined steps, he headed back towards Hannah’s wagon. He would do everything he could for Drew’s wife, no matter the cost.
Sometime during the night, Hannah woke with a start. Momentarily forgetting what happened, she bolted upright. As the fog of sleep began to lift, everything came back in heavy, undaunted grief. Drew was dead. She was alone. God had forsaken her. Tears began to fall again. Her head hurt from all the crying and her eyelids felt heavy. Irritably, she frantically swiped at the tears wishing she could make them stop.
How could you! Her heart screamed in anger at God. How could a loving God lead them to a new land, only to leave her a widow on the doorstep of their new life? This journey was supposed to bring hope—a new life. Instead, it brought death. Drew’s death. The death of her heart, her only true love. There was no life without her beloved Drew. What kind of God are you?
Realizing her fists were balled so tightly that her nails dug into her palms, she shifted her position and released her grip. Her stomach growled. She could not remember the last time she ate. Quietly moving about, she stepped off the wagon to stand by the dying campfire—light that matched the dimness of her heart.
When she looked up, even in the deep shadows of night, she realized they were not camped in the same place. Frightened she looked around. The light of the moon reflected on the snow capped mountains, which were further away than she remembered them. Where was she?
She wished she would have known they were leaving. Had the men from the wagon train found Drew’s body? Was he given a proper burial? Or would his grave be unmarked, melting away as winter turned to spring? The morbid thought brought a fresh wave of tears.
Hearing someone stir in the tent pitched next to her, Hannah froze in place. Why was there a tent next to their wagon? Her wagon. There is no more us. Her mind reminded her again of her widowhood. Seeing nothing was where she left it, she climbed back into the wagon. Sitting stiffly, she pulled the blanket around her and crossed her arms in defiance. Her anger boiled over. She wanted to scream.
“Hannah,” she heard her name being whispered as the weight of someone’s step shifted the wagon to one side. Hope grew within her. Was it Drew? Was this all a bad dream? Was he really here?
Just as she parted her lips to speak his name, reality killed her heart. The man’s head poking through the opening of the wagon cover looked familiar, but it was not her beloved. As he spoke her name a second time, she recognized the voice. Since when had Lieutenant Harrison started calling her by her first name? And what was he doing here?
“I heard you stirring. Can I get you anything? Are you alright? You must be thirsty, let me get you some water,” he whispered in rapid succession. She felt the wagon shift weight twice more, likely him getting down and then back up again.
“Here,” he said.
She took the offered cup of water and chugged it in the most un-ladylike manner, swiping away the dribbles with the back of her hand.
Still leaning into the wagon from the springboard seat, Lieutenant Harrison said, “We’ve been so worried about you. You have been impossible to stir for two days now. Even with all the swaying and lurching of the wagon, you have not moved in the slightest.” His concern was evident.
She said nothing. She was still too angry. And she really did not care if anyone was concerned or not. Her husband was gone and her life was over. They could just stop her wagon by the side of the road and leave her here to die. It mattered little to her. In fact, it did not matter at all.
“Would you like something to eat?” the lieutenant asked. “I can find the bread Mrs. Lancaster set aside for you? Or I can see if I can find some dried beef? Do you have a preference?”
Hannah did not make any noise or acknowledge him in any way. She did not care if she ever ate again. Her Drew was gone.
She startled when the lieutenant touched her shoulder softly.
“Hannah, you have to eat something. If not for you, then for the baby.”
His comment angered her further. She grabbed his hand and threw it from her shoulder before spewing forth words coated in bitterness. “What baby? I don’t have a baby. What are you talking about?” Was she losing her mind?
“Mrs. Lancaster said you were…um…with child and that if you moved so much as an inch I should ensure you ate.”
The truth hit her, almost physically knocking her back as she suddenly realized she was with child. That explained the nausea for the past few weeks. She placed her hand on her stomach, tears streaming down her face again. This was not the picture of family she longed for. This was Drew’s child. He was supposed to be here, at her side, to raise this child with her. Family was not a widow in a wilderness raising her child alone. But, she would do what she could for her child, her last living link to her treasured Drew.
Barely audible, she whispered, “Some bread would be nice.” Needing little encouragement the lieutenant quickly offered her a small meal of bread, dried beef, and more water.
Still sitting in the dark wagon, she nibbled slowly. The lieutenant remained on the wagon seat as she ate, not attempting further conversation. Only when she finished eating and was once again settled down to sleep did he return to his tent.
As sunlight filtered through the opening of the wagon cover, Hannah woke. The wagon was already swaying. Curious as to who was driving the wagon, Hannah moved so she could see out the narrow opening. It was Lieutenant Harrison! Shouldn’t he be with the cavalry? What was he doing?
Though she wanted to stay abed all day and forget the tragedy consuming her thoughts, an urgent need to relieve herself spurred her forward. She climbed through the opening and took a seat next to the lieutenant.
“How are you this morning?” he tentatively asked.
Clearing her throat, she lied, “Fine.” She would never be fine again.
“Good.”
She asked, “Might we pull over for a minute?”
Hannah’s expression must have shown the urgency, because Lieutenant Harrison did not hesitate to comply. She walked a short distance to a shrub to provide herself with some privacy. She did not delay in returning to the wagon.
Once back on board, Harrison seemed eager to get moving again. She noticed his face was flush.
“Are you feeling well?” she asked, sitting up stiffly at the far end of the seat.
“Fine,” was his curt reply.
Her concern quickly vanished as a new wave of grief spilled into her heart. Staring at the back end of the wagon in front of them, she felt despondent. What would she do on her own? Would the aching never cease? How could she provide for herself and a little one? Drew was really gone, never to see his son or daughter born.
They home they were going to build in the Granite Creek settlement would never rise. The clinic he would run would never exist. Their child would grow up without a father. Oh, how he would have loved their child!
Instead of seeing the hopeful future Drew painted for her, she saw nothingness, blankness, death.
She became so consumed with her thoughts that she forgot Lieutenant Harrison was even there. She startled when he spoke.
“We should be stopping shortly for the midday meal. Mrs. Lancaster is most eager to see for herself how you are doing. She insists that she will take care of preparing the meal for you.”
Hannah nodded numbly. Looking around as the wagon pulled into camp formation, she realized there was no snow on the ground and the temperature warmed considerably. How far had they traveled since…the accident?
Lieutenant Harrison set the brake on the wagon before circling around to her side. She let him help her down, too empty to manage the simple task on her own. Then he pulled a crate from the wagon and directed Hannah to sit there. She looked longing back towards the mountains far off in the distance—Drew’s final resting place.
As she sat, she stared at her fingernails, keenly aware of how chipped and uneven they were. Strange how the oddest thing brought some sense of normalcy. Clasping her hands together, she let her gaze drift to the ground. Tall grass hid her feet and brushed against the long skirt of her calico dress. The soft blue color had been Drew’s favorite. She thought as she unclasped her hands and brushed the dust from the dress.
Blue. As a widow, she should be wearing black. But, she did not own any black. And she was in the middle of a vastly unpopulated wilderness. Where would she find black cloth or black dye? And did she really want to destroy the dress that would always remind her of him?
Betty bounded over to where Hannah sat. Wrapping her in a motherly embrace, Betty said nothing. The gentleness of the action brought forth more tears. Hannah soaked in the compassion from the older woman as Betty stroked her hair and whispered words of love until Hannah calmed.
“You sit right there,” ordered Betty as she started preparing the meal. “I know you are dealing with a lot, dear, but we need to come up with a plan for you once we arrive at Granite Creek. You are welcome to help Paul and me with the boardinghouse. We will likely have more than we can handle on our own.”
Now that someone else made mention of moving on with her life, Hannah refused to talk about it. There was no life without Drew. As she looked away, she was reminded of the way his face lit up when he teased her. His serious nature when treating patients was always followed by a kind soft voice, setting their minds at ease. She loved the way her heart would jump just at the sight of him coming into her kitchen from the clinic.
Those times were gone, left thousands of miles ago locked away in some other lifetime. Buried under ten feet of snow.
She knew she should respond to Betty, but words would not come. She turned her face back to the older woman. With her eyes she begged the discussion to end. It was too painful to consider her future, when she could not see beyond today. Betty must have read her expression, for she did not press the issue.
The next week passed in the familiar routine of the trail, only under a heavy shroud of grief. Hannah forced herself daily to gather firewood and prepare meals, hoping the routine action would pacify the ravenous pain shredding her heart. Each day she looked forward to the time Lieutenant Harrison checked in with his commanding officer. For those few minutes she could feel the full depth of her agony without having to pretend she was fine. Then, when he returned, she would carefully put on her mask of hollowness and silence.
After the evening meal each night, Hannah and Lieutenant Harrison sat around the fire with Betty and Paul. It should have been Drew there by her side. Some nights Betty started singing hymns with Paul and the lieutenant joining in. Hann
ah remained silent and distant, closing off her heart from everyone. She could not praise a God who would abandon her. Other nights, her friends would converse with her, trying to get her to decide where she would live and what she would do once they arrived in Granite Creek. But, Hannah would not respond.
While physically present, her heart was not. It was buried on that snow capped mountain with her beloved. There was no funeral, no burial, no grave. She would never see him again, nor be able to visit his grave. Her Drew was forever gone.
Chapter 21
Fort Whipple, Arizona Territory
January 22, 1864
Since joining the California Volunteers, Lieutenant Joshua Harrison had seen numerous forts throughout the western territories in varying stages of permanency. Fort Whipple was probably the most primitive—just a large gathering of tents clustered together. Not a single permanent structure had been built in the month since the army established the fort. On one side of the camp, there were several corrals for the horses, oxen, cattle, and other livestock needed to support the military. Somewhere he even heard the clucking of chickens, probably hens to provide eggs for the large group of hungry soldiers.
The soldiers already occupying the fort formed precise lines as the governor and his party pulled to a stop. Joshua helped Hannah down from the wagon as the government officials made their way to a crudely constructed stage. Staying on the edge of the crowd, Joshua watched as the soldiers offered up an eighteen gun salute for the new governor. Then, Major Willis spoke briefly, followed by the governor.
While the government officials announced their headquarters with the military at the fort for the next few months, the rest of the civilians continued into the town roughly twenty-five miles south. On horseback, the trip could be made in one day, but traveling in heavy laden wagons pulled by oxen and mules, the settlers should arrive in two.