Wagon Train Cinderella

by Kennedy, Shirley

  “I’ve come back, Tommy. How do you like that?”

  Tommy’s answering smile made her doubts disappear.

  Late in the afternoon, Callie and Lydia were fixing supper when Luke and the Reverend Wilkins’ shy son, Colton, stopped by. In a congenial mood, Luke declared, “We’ve come to give you and Lydia your first lesson.”

  “On what?”

  “We’ll be leaving first thing in the morning. You need to know how to yoke the oxen.”

  Lydia nearly dropped the pot of coffee she’d been making. “Lord have mercy! I don’t think…”

  “You can do it.” Luke’s voice brimmed with confidence. He nodded toward his companion. “Colton’s the expert. He’ll show you how.”

  As Callie expected, tall, skinny Colton cast his eyes down and shuffled his feet. At twenty-four, with his red hair and freckles, he wasn’t much to look at, especially with an unremarkable face that turned bright red whenever he received any attention, especially from a girl. It had turned red now. She hoped he hadn’t heard Lydia’s barely audible sniff of contempt.

  Colton finally stepped forward and removed his hat. “Good afternoon, ladies. First, you got to get your oxen and tie ’em about the same distance apart as their heads go in the yoke. Here, I’ll show you.” He led them to where their four remaining oxen stood grazing. Rosie and Jack, Zephyr and Thor—Callie held great affection for them, despite their being dumb animals. Colton led Rosie and Jack to the front of the wagon, where he lined them up side by side. He handed the rope that held them to Lydia. “Here, hang on to the oxen. I’ll get the yoke.”

  Callie caught the flash of panic that crossed Lydia’s face. How would her pampered stepsister handle this? She always avoided the huge animals as much as possible, but now, in the presence of a young man her age, she couldn’t act like a scaredy-cat, even if it was only Colton. Sure enough, Lydia, with a show of confidence, took the rope in her dainty hand and batted her eyelashes, her customary gesture whenever a man was around. “Do you think I can do this, Colton?”

  “Sure you can. Hold on.” Colton left briefly and returned with the yoke, oxbow, and the bolts to hold them together. The yoke, an elongated, heavy piece of wood, had two holes drilled on either end. The U-shaped oxbow was made of iron. Colton held them both up. “See these holes in the yoke? That’s where each end of the oxbow goes.” He placed the yoke atop Rosie’s and Jack’s backs. Next, he placed one of the oxbows under Rosie’s neck and slid the two ends through the holes in the yoke. He fastened the ends with iron pins, then did the same with Jack. As he worked, his confidence grew and he forgot to be shy. “See? It’s not that hard.” He gave a confident slap to Rosie’s back and stepped back with a satisfied smile.

  Luke stepped to the oxen and removed the oxbow and yoke. Like Colton, he made the task look easy, as if he were lifting a bag of feathers. “Now you do it, ladies. Put it on. Take it off.”

  How difficult could it be? “Come on, Lydia. It doesn’t look so hard.” Callie stepped to where Luke held the yoke. She took one end. A reluctant-looking Lydia took the other. Luke let go. The sudden weight caused Callie to gasp. The yoke was so heavy it took every bit of her strength to hang on and not let it fall to the ground. Lydia gasped, too, and suddenly went down like a rock, landing splat on her backside, an astonished look on her face.

  “Are you all right?” Luke asked.

  Lydia glared up at him. “You didn’t say it was heavy.”

  “It’s only eighty pounds or so.”

  The amazed look that crossed Lydia’s face, along with the unforgettable of sight of her sitting spread-eagled on the ground, were too much for Callie. She started laughing. Luke and Colton did the same. Soon Lydia joined in. Even she could see the humor of it all.

  Callie enjoyed the brief moment of hilarity. There’d been nothing but grimness and tragedy the past two days. How nice to laugh after all the misfortune that had befallen them. The light moment didn’t last long, though, coming to an abrupt end when Ma emerged from the tent. She looked terrible, pale and drawn, right arm in a sling. Her face resembled a thundercloud. Uh-oh. Since she moved back, Callie hadn’t talked to her stepmother. Now the moment she dreaded had arrived.

  Ma cast a furious gaze at Callie. “What are you doing here? Why are you laughing? Have you no respect for your father and me?”

  “I’m here because I want to help, Ma.”

  “You can help by leaving us alone. Your pa doesn’t want you here.”

  It was hard to get her next words out, but the time had come and she must. “Pa needs help whether he wants it or not. That’s why I’ve come back, and I don’t intend to leave.”

  Ma looked thunderstruck. She began to sputter. “You—you—dare to go against your pa?”

  “Call it what you will, I’m not leaving. I’m going to drive the wagon, Ma. That means you won’t get left behind. You can go to California, just like you wanted.”

  “You will rue the day you defied us.” Ma’s voice was so cold it sent a chill up Callie’s spine. Was she making a terrible mistake? Maybe Ma was right and she had no business intruding upon a family that didn’t want her anymore.

  But no! If ever a family needed help, it was this one. Come hell or high water, she’d get the Whitakers to California, whether they liked it or not.

  Chapter 13

  Next day, the Ferguson Wagon train got ready to resume its journey. To Callie and Lydia’s vast relief, Colton dropped by and hitched up the oxen. Ma and Pa left their tent and after a slow, painful climb, settled in the back of the wagon. Ma seemed all right, even though she maintained an angry silence. Pa never spoke. Although heavily dosed with laudanum, he still suffered great pain and groaned constantly. His journey would not be any easy one. Callie vowed to avoid jolting the wagon as much as possible.

  As the wagons moved out, Callie sat on the wagon seat, reins in one hand, whip in the other, waiting to join the line. Lydia sat beside her, tightly gripping the seat, as if the wagon might overturn at any moment. “Callie, are you sure you can do this?”

  No, I’m not sure. She had hardly slept last night worrying about today’s drive. Had she taken on too much? How could she possibly drive a wagon to California by herself? If only she’d thought it through, but too late now. She had finally fallen asleep, telling herself she would do the best she could and never let on to the family how unsure of herself she was. She’d act confident, no matter what. Now, as they joined the line, she flicked the whip over the heads of Rosie and Jack, a showy gesture they didn’t need. She glanced at her stepsister. “Don’t worry. Luke and Florida taught me how to drive. It’s easy as pie once you get the hang of it.”

  “I would never want to try.”

  “Never say never, Lydia.” After a hearty “Getup,” Callie maneuvered the oxen into the slow-moving line of wagons. Not so bad. I do know what I’m doing. As they rolled along, she felt at ease. She was in control. She could handle this. “See how easy? By the time we get to California, we’ll both be old hands at this.”

  “You think?” Lydia was actually smiling. Her fingers had loosened their desperate grip on the edge of the wagon seat.

  “I don’t think, I know. We’re going to be fine.” Finally Lydia was beginning to trust her. At that moment, with the sun on her face and the reins firmly in hand, Callie’s confidence rose. Yes, she could do it! She had control of her life. Nothing could go wrong. On to California!

  If only…oh, Luke.

  A deepening sadness dampened Callie’s spirits whenever she thought about Luke. She loved everything about him—his kindness, his subtle wit, the aching desire he caused when he held her in his arms. He’d be gone soon. She would not deceive herself that their paths would cross again. She had no idea what the future held, but one thing she knew for sure—she would never love another man the way she loved Luke McGraw.

  * * * *

  They had lots of help. During the remaining days it took to reach Fort Hall, Colto
n continued to come by each morning to hitch up the oxen, a task the sisters dreaded and hadn’t yet dealt with. As time went on, Lydia grew more and more happy to see him. She’d hardly noticed him before, but now he was being so helpful, in such a strong, masculine way, she seemed to be making a point to be around when he stopped by. In turn, Colton appeared to gain confidence and wasn’t as bashful.

  Luke came by often. Usually he simply rode by, nodded and continued on, but Callie was glad to see him each time. If she needed him, he’d be there.

  Florida stopped by when she could, not only to check on Ma and Pa, but to see how the rest of the family was doing. Often she lamented the fact they soon must part. “I sure hate to leave you, but Henry was so set on getting to Oregon, I feel I’ve got to honor his wishes.” Her eyes lit up when she talked about her dead husband’s dream. “He used to say it would be like traveling to the Garden of Eden, like living in a land flowing with milk and honey. He said the clover grew all over Oregon, and when you waded through, it reached your chin.”

  “Do you believe that?” Callie once asked.

  “It doesn’t matter if I believe it or not. It’s what Henry wanted for the children and me.” She choked up, tears glistening in her eyes. “So, that’s where we’re going.”

  Callie grew sadder each day, knowing they soon must part. She’d sorely miss the only true friend she’d ever known. She didn’t have time to mope about it, though. Her one goal was to get her family to California. Borrowing Luke’s words, she mustn’t be a softhearted fool.

  * * * *

  Fort Hall! Surrounded by high palisades, it was a major trading post and a welcome sight to weary travelers. Magnus said they’d stay for two days. This time his captains didn’t protest. They needed to stock up on supplies and let the animals rest.

  They camped just outside the walls. That night, a bedraggled-looking widow named Narcissa White, somewhere in her thirties, joined the group around the campfire. She and her five children had left Oregon and were headed home. Everyone, including Callie, gathered around, curious to hear her reasons for returning. When asked, Narcissa’s exhausted face went grim. “Me and my children are going home to Illinois. I’ve had enough of Oregon. Why anybody would want to go to that God-awful place is beyond me.”

  Florida broke the surprised silence. “Would you mind telling us why?”

  “First off, you’re lucky if you get there alive. Of course, if that’s where you’re going, then you probably don’t want to hear what I have to say.”

  “You go right ahead, Mrs. White.” Florida seemed anxious to hear.

  “First, you got to know how hard it is to get your wagons over those hills. You’ve heard of the Wasatch Mountains?”

  “I believe they lay between Wyoming and Utah. We’ve got to cross them before we get there.”

  “That you do.” The widow’s whole body slumped, as if she was engulfed in a tide of weariness and despair. “It ain’t so easy. There ain’t any trail, not to speak of anyway. The only way to get your wagons over those mountains is to hoist them with chains, pulleys, and ropes. Twice I saw a chain break and there went the wagon, crashing down the mountainside.”

  “Gracious me,” said Florida. “But you made it across all right?”

  “That we did, but that wasn’t the worst of it. Soon it got cold. It was October already and we still had a long way to go. The trail was so bad we had to leave the wagons behind. So we took what possessions we could and began to walk. We walked for days. Mind you, it’s raining the whole time. When we reached the Deschutes River, we couldn’t cross it by ourselves. Some Paiute Indians offered to take us across, for a price, of course, so we loaded everything onto their canoes. By then it was a cold, wet November, and there I sat, holding two of my babies while the Paiutes took us down that raging river, clear to where it emptied into the Columbia. I never was so scared in my life.” Narcissa paused at the memory and grimly shook her head. “That river was the worst I ever saw. High, fast, and dangerous. If you think the river was bad, then hear what happened next. After the river, we had to wade through tremendous swamps. And me freezing with three little children cold and crying, hanging on to my skirts. It kept raining and snowing. I froze my feet so bad I couldn’t wear my shoes. Had to walk on the snow and in that icy water barefooted. I was so cold and numb, I couldn’t tell by feeling if I had any feet at all. And my poor children! They near gave out with cold and fatigue. We ended up having to carry them most of the way. By the time we got there, we had not one dry thread of clothing among us, not even my baby.” Narcissa closed her eyes, as if to block the miserable memories. “I haven’t told you half what we suffered. I’m not adequate to the task.”

  Florida took a long, worried look at her small children. “Do go on, Mrs. White.” Her low, subdued voice shook. “So you finally arrived?”

  “We finally reached Portland, but by then my husband was mighty sick with a fever. The rain and dampness had taken their toll. I found a small, leaky cabin with two families already there and got some of the men to carry my husband up through the rain and lay him inside. For the next six weeks I never undressed to lie down, what with tending to my husband, a baby that never stopped crying and my children hungry the whole time.”

  Callie had listened, both fascinated and horrified at the same time. “So your husband didn’t recover?”

  “Patrick died six weeks after we got there. He used to call Oregon the land of milk and honey. Well, the poor man never saw the sun shine. Never saw anything but rain, snow, and cold.”

  “That’s when you decided to come back?”

  “I hung on for months, but finally, what else could I do?” Narcissa heaved another weary sigh. “There I was, left a widow in a strange land, with the care of five children, with no money or friends. Of course I’m going back. I can hardly wait ’til I set my feet on the blessed soil of Illinois. As God is my witness, I shall never leave again.” She cast a sympathetic gaze at Florida. “So, you’re heading for Oregon?”

  “Yes, I am, Mrs. White.”

  “Then be prepared. I assure you, it will be a hundred times worse than you can ever imagine.”

  The poor woman. Callie stared at Narcissa, at a loss for words.

  Florida stayed silent, too, but her look of concern showed she was deeply troubled by the widow’s tragic tale. Florida was never down for long, though. She brightened and gave the widow a smile. “Thanks for telling us your story. It must have been awful losing your husband and everything else.”

  Narcissa’s eyes filled with sympathy. “You’re a brave woman, Mrs. Sawyer. My prayers will be with you on that God-awful journey. I hope with all my heart you and your children survive.”

  * * * *

  In the middle of the night, Luke awoke.

  His sister was softly calling from outside his tent. “Luke, Luke? Are you awake?”

  “I am now. Come in.” He pushed his blankets aside, sat up, and waited for Florida to come crawling in. In the near darkness, he could barely see her in silhouette as she sat beside him. “I know why you’re here.”

  His sister replied in a worried whisper. “Do you believe what that woman said?”

  “Every word. Remember when we started this journey? I warned you then about the Oregon Trail.”

  “I insisted, didn’t I? Florida sighed deeply. “It was Henry’s dream that we move to Oregon. What would he say if I changed my mind and we went to California instead?”

  “Not much. He is, after all, dead.”

  “Stop that!” She playfully struck at his arm. “Be serious. He may be dead, but I know he’s looking down from heaven as we speak. He’d be horrified if I chose not to go to Oregon. He’d never forgive me.”

  Luke suppressed the impulse to further tease his sister and chose his next words carefully. “When we began this journey, I promised I’d see you safely to Oregon, or wherever you wanted to go. It was the least I could do after all you’ve done for me. I warne
d you about Oregon, how tough it would be, but you insisted. You wanted to go so you could honor Henry’s memory. Thanks to that widow, you can see what you’re in for.”

  “You think I shouldn’t go?”

  “Don’t go by my opinion. You should do what you think is best for you and the children. Leave Henry out of it, whether he’s looking down from heaven or not.”

  “You’d rather go to California, wouldn’t you?”

  “It makes no difference.”

  “Oh, yes, it does. You don’t fool me for a minute. You’ve been worrying yourself sick over Callie and how she’ll manage after we split at Fort Hall.” Florida placed a gentle hand on his arm. “You have feelings for her, don’t you? Don’t tell me you don’t.”

  At another time, another place, he might have denied his sister’s accusation. Not now, though. Maybe the truth came more easily in the middle of the night, in the darkness, when the pretenses of the day were stripped away. “Yes, I have feelings for Callie. That’s why I’ve tried to stay away from her. When I’m around her, I…” Why try to explain? Florida would never understand. She’d known only one man in her life, boring Henry, a good man but about as exciting as a bag of oats. She’d never understand how it was to lie awake for hours into the night, staring into the darkness, desperately aching to hold someone, like I want to hold Callie.

  “Ah, Luke.” His sister’s whispered words carried a trace of melancholy. “I knew you cared for her. Why couldn’t you have opened up to me?”

  “What good would it do? I have lots of reasons. You know them all.”

  Florida expelled a long, weary sigh that spoke of an enduring sadness. “Ah, yes, that terrible day. How I wish you could get beyond it.”

  “So do I, but I’m not like you.”

  Even in the near darkness, Luke could see his sister wasn’t wearing her white cap like she usually did. She raised her hand to her head to the awful scar where the Indian had scalped her. In a choked voice she asked, “You think I could ever forget?”