“What about you, Amelia?” Virginia asked. “Are you looking forward to spending Christmas in your new home?”
The girl gave no reply, not even a nod or shake of her head. Instead, she stared at her hands, clasped tightly in her lap.
I wish I knew what she was thinking, Virginia thought. If only I could think of something to say or do that would pull the sweet little girl out of her world of silence.
Being a schoolteacher, Virginia had dealt with children who had all sorts of problems, but none were locked in a world of silence like Amelia. She wondered if the child would always be like this or if there was a possibility of her speaking again.
As Cole urged his horse forward, ever mindful of what was ahead, he couldn’t help but worry. Days on the trail had turned into weeks, and weeks into months. They’d gone over South Pass, and their last stop for supplies and fresh animals to pull the wagons had been at Fort Hall. Now they were following the Humboldt River in the direction of the Sierra Nevada.
They were behind where they should be by this time, but from what they’d seen left from previous wagon trains, they must be on the right trail. But Cole had other matters to be uneasy about. He was anxious not only about another incident with wolves or some other wild animal, but about the possibility of encountering bad weather—particularly snow—before they reached California. Warm days were being replaced with chilly mornings, and at some point they were bound to hit snow. He hoped it wouldn’t amount to much and that they could make it to their destination before any bad weather set in. It wouldn’t be good for them to get trapped in the mountains due to foul weather. He hadn’t shared his concerns with the others, not even Ginny. For now, it was best to keep those thoughts to himself.
Thanks to the wind that had recently whipped up, they were moving slowly again—too slow to suit Cole. The trees seemed to groan as they swayed from the force of the wind, and a light drizzle had begun to fall. Even the oxen seemed miserable, plodding along at a slower pace.
So far, they hadn’t run out of food. Between the supplies that were packed in their three wagons and the game that had been available whenever he and Jack hunted, none of them went to bed hungry. Cole had to admit he couldn’t wait for a good home-cooked meal that Ginny would make once they got settled in California. For now, rabbits and the occasional sage hen would have to do, along with the never-ending beans that seemed to accompany most evening meals.
He glanced behind at the wagons and tipped his hat when Ginny waved at him. She had Jack’s children riding with her, and the smile on her face said it all. His sister had a fondness for children, and it showed. She was a good schoolteacher, and he was equally sure she’d be a good mother someday. Unfortunately, his sister had never had a steady beau other than that creep Clay Summers. After Clay jilted Ginny, she never got interested in anyone else. Maybe it was because she’d been too busy teaching, but more than likely it had to do with her shyness around men. From what Cole had been told, California was home to a lot of men, so if Ginny came out of her shell, she was bound to find a husband. She certainly enjoyed fussing over Jack’s kids. Each morning she fixed Amelia’s hair and made sure both children washed up. Cole felt sorry for Jack. It couldn’t be easy losing a wife and trying to raise two youngsters by himself.
Cole wanted to get married someday and settle down. But first he needed to find gold. He knew it was a risky way to make money, but he had to give it a chance. Yet in the back of his mind was one nagging thought: What if I spend all my money on supplies, only to come up empty-handed and never get rich?
Chapter 6
Dear Diary,
We’ve come to the foot of the Sierra Nevada and started up the Truckee River. Unfortunately, things haven’t gone well. One of our oxen has died, and to make things worse, yesterday it began to snow. It’s very rocky here, and since we’ve had to work our way around the rocks, we’ve only made it a short distance in two days.
This morning it’s still snowing, and I’m worried. What will we do if it gets worse?
I must close now, as Cole just rode up to our wagon and said it was time to move out. I didn’t like the concern I saw on his face, and when I asked if he thought we were going to be okay, he just gave a quick nod and rode away. His silence spoke volumes.
“I don’t like this. I don’t like it one bit,” Walter complained as he got their wagon moving. “If this weather gets any worse, we could be stuck out here in the wilderness with no protection from the elements except our wagons. My hands are frozen, and my gloves aren’t helping anymore.”
Mama’s face blanched. “Oh, dear, haven’t we been through enough already? Do you really think we might get stranded in the snow?”
Walter shrugged, blowing into his gloves for more warmth. “Guess it all depends on how bad it gets.”
Cynthia reached over and gently patted Mama’s arm. Even though she felt concern about the snow, she didn’t want her mother to worry. “Try not to fret. I’m sure we’ll be fine. We need to pray and ask God to take care of us.”
Mama nodded slowly, but Walter just grunted.
After all, Cynthia reasoned, it does no good to dwell on something that’s out of our control. She watched as Walter pulled his hat down tighter on his head. Poor Walter. I don’t think he could be any more miserable. This kind of existence is definitely not for a man like him. Of course, it’s not exactly my cup of tea either. I’d rather be home in New York than here on the trail, bouncing around on a hard seat in terrible weather. Somehow, the adventure of going to California has worn off.
Cynthia thought about Cole’s wagon ahead of them and wondered how Jack’s children were doing as they sat up front with Virginia. Amelia and Alan would be riding with Virginia all day, since Jack needed to stay in his own wagon. Cynthia wanted to ride in Jack’s wagon with the children but figured with the way Walter had been acting lately, he’d probably have something negative to say about it. He’d become quite protective of her lately, acting as if they were already married. Just the other day when Jack was talking to her about the children, Walter stepped up to him and said, “I hope you don’t get used to Cynthia taking care of your children, because as soon as we reach Sutter’s Fort, we’ll be going our separate ways.”
How embarrassing, Cynthia thought, pulling the brim of her bonnet down in an effort to shield her face from the blinding snow. I’m sure Jack realizes I won’t always be there to help with Amelia and Alan. I should have spoken up when Walter told Jack that, instead of turning away with regret. Is it always going to be this way—Walter treating me like a piece of property and acting like he owns me?
Another time when Cole was talking to them, Walter had told Cole in no uncertain terms to stop gawking at Cynthia. Cole had looked at Walter like he was loco, and Cynthia had fumed at the mere suggestion, although she’d said nothing to Walter. Obviously he disliked Cole, and she didn’t want to say or do anything to make it worse. Cole had every right to respond negatively toward Walter, but Cynthia admired how he had simply turned and walked away.
When the wagons stopped for the night, Cole waited until Jack’s children were in bed then gathered the adults together. “With the way the snow’s been comin’ down all day,” he said, “I’m afraid we may have to hunker down somewhere for a few days and give our oxen time to rest.”
“Are you crazy? And just where might that ‘somewhere’ be?” Walter shouted, spreading his arms out and looking around. “If we sit here with our wagons, we’re likely to freeze to death. Besides, we’ve little protection from the elements, so I say we keep moving.”
“If we had a better place to get out of the weather, it would be good if we stopped traveling for a few days,” Jack put in.
The women all nodded in agreement.
“Well, we don’t have a better place,” Cole said. “So we have two choices: we can either stay put with our wagons for a day or two, or we can keep moving and hope the oxen don’t give out. With the snow bogging us down, it’s putting an extra st
rain on what little strength those poor animals have left. If we don’t stay put, we’ll have to start lessening the load in our wagons to make it easier for the oxen. We’ve already lost one, and I don’t want to lose more.”
Cole watched as Cynthia’s mother bit her lip, no doubt thinking about his words.
“Let’s take a vote,” Walter said. “How many are in favor of us moving up the trail come morning?”
Jack, Mable, Cynthia, and Walter raised their hands. “That’s a majority, so it’s settled. We head out in the morning.”
“Wait a minute, now,” Cole said, glaring at Walter. “I thought I was the one in charge here.”
“You were supposed to be leading us up the trail,” Walter reminded, “but that doesn’t mean we have to agree with or do everything you say.”
Cole grimaced. It seemed to him that the irritating man hadn’t agreed with anything he’d done so far, but against his better judgment, he’d go along with everyone’s wishes and leave in the morning. It didn’t mean it was a good idea though. All he could do was try to get a decent night’s sleep and see how things shaped up in the morning. Maybe they’d get lucky and it would quit snowing.
By the next evening, the snow that had begun falling earlier had turned into a blizzard. The blinding snow came down sideways, making it hard to see anything at all. There was no doubt about it: they were definitely lost. If that wasn’t bad enough, Cole had no idea what to do for the people in his charge. Unless the weather improved, they’d be trapped here in the Sierra Nevada. If only they could find some better shelter. Their covered wagons didn’t offer enough protection from a storm such as this. Even if they survived the storm, what was going to happen when they ran out of food? Would they end up like the Donner party who had gotten trapped at Truckee Lake a few years ago? Many had died during the tragic ordeal, and worse, some of the dead had become food for those who still lived.
Cole gulped and looked heavenward. Dear Lord, please don’t let a terrible thing like that happen to us. Give me the wisdom to know what to do, or provide us with a miracle so no one will perish.
Chapter 7
Dear Diary,
We’re in the worst possible situation. Not only are we in the middle of a terrible snowstorm, but Cole says we’re stranded and he can’t find the trail. Once again, Cole has left Walter and Jack here with the women and children, while he goes hunting for fresh meat.
Are we stuck here until spring? Could we even survive that long? Have we come this far, only to have it end in tragedy? I’m really getting concerned. It’s so cold and hard to function. I’m colder than I’ve ever been before. My teeth chatter so hard I’m afraid they might break. All any of us can do at this point is pray that God will spare us.
Tears splashed on the paper, smearing the last few words of Cynthia’s journal entry. She sniffed and wiped her nose. “Oh, Mama, I’m so scared. I wish we’d stayed in New York instead of letting Walter talk us into making this trek through the wilderness, which can only end in our demise.”
“Don’t let Walter hear you talking like that,” Mama warned, glancing toward the lean-to Walter was trying to set up with Jack’s help. “He thought he was doing the right thing, and it’s not his fault the weather’s turned bad or that we’ve had so many delays. If things had gone as they should, we’d be in California by now.” Mama’s lips pursed. “I blame Cole for that, too.”
“It’s not his fault we ran into snow,” Cynthia said in Cole’s defense. Briskly, she rubbed her arms, hoping to stimulate warmth in her limbs.
“That’s true,” Mama agreed, “but he should have kept the wagons moving faster.”
“Mama, he did the best he could, and he’s not to blame for any of the setbacks we had.”
Mama sighed. “I can’t believe he left us here in the middle of this storm to go hunting. He’s likely to get lost out there in the snow. Then what’ll we do?”
“We need fresh meat,” Cynthia said, although she was equally anxious. What if Cole got lost in the woods and they never saw him again? “Don’t worry, Mama. He’ll be back soon.” Cynthia’s gaze went to where she’d last seen Cole walking in the deep snow with his gun, hoping against hope for his safe return.
Cole yanked the brim of his hat down, as he trudged through the forest on makeshift snowshoes, looking for wild game. So far he’d seen nothing, not even a rabbit. Guess the animals are bedded down or burrowed in till after the storm, he thought. With the snow swirling around him, he didn’t dare venture too far, because the last thing he needed was to get lost and be unable to find his way back to camp.
Moving a little farther, he was taken by surprise when he spotted a small cabin. No smoke rose from the chimney, and he couldn’t see any livestock or other sign of life outside the cabin. Cautiously, Cole approached and knocked on the door.
No response. The only sounds to be heard were the wind blowing through the pines and the snow filtering down as it blew off the branches.
Opening the door and peering guardedly inside, Cole called, “Anybody here?”
No response.
He waited a few minutes then lit a match. Seeing a lantern on a small wooden table, he lit that, and instantly, the cabin became illuminated. After a quick scan of the two small rooms, Cole knew with certainty that the cabin had been abandoned.
Cole pulled his coat collar tighter around his neck. It was cold inside the cabin, and while there didn’t appear to be any food on the shelves, this would be a place for them to get in out of the weather and hunker down until spring if necessary. There was a fireplace, and a small stack of firewood outside the cabin would get them started until they found more. The biggest problem would be keeping them in food. Cole thought between the supplies they still had, plus any game he or Jack might bag, they could survive. At least he hoped that would be the case.
Closing the cabin door behind him, Cole started back for the wagons, thankful for the tracks his snowshoes had left in the snow. He figured everyone would be glad with the news he was about to bring them. Staying in this cabin would be better than trying to survive in their wagons, which he doubted they’d be able to do much longer.
“I found an abandoned cabin in the woods, where we can take refuge,” Cole announced when he entered the camp and found everyone gathered under the lean-to Jack and Walter had constructed. He bent over, trying to catch his breath after trudging back through the heavy snow. Sweat that had been worked up during the vigorous return was replaced with chills seeping right through his skin.
“What about our wagons? Can we get them and the livestock through the woods?” Jack questioned.
“I think so,” Cole answered, rubbing his hands as he held them over the fire. “It might take us awhile in this snow, but we need to try.”
“Is there food in the cabin or any other supplies?” Walter asked.
Cole shook his head. “No food, but there’s a fireplace, a table, and a few chairs. I think with what we have in our wagons, if we ration the food we should be okay.”
“What about fresh meat?” This question came from Cynthia’s mother. “Were you able to shoot anything while you were in the woods?”
“I didn’t see any game, but after I found the cabin, I quit lookin’.” Cole motioned to the wagons. “Right now I think we need to head for that cabin. Once we get there, we can discuss sleeping arrangements and how we’re gonna survive till the weather improves.”
Walter sneered at Cole. “Don’t you mean, if it improves? We could be stuck here until spring—if we live that long.”
Alan started to cry, and he looked up at his dad. “Are we gonna die, Papa?”
“No, Son,” Jack assured the boy, before giving Walter an icy stare. “Not if I can help it.”
Amelia’s chin quivered, but she said nothing. It was obvious that both of Jack’s children were afraid.
Feeling the need to calm everyone’s fears, Cole said, “I think we can find plenty of fresh game. We’ll have a sturdy roof over our heads and b
e warmer. There’s a fireplace for warmth and to melt snow for water. We have plenty of beans left, so if nothing else, we can survive on bean soup.”
Walter wrinkled his nose. “Oh good, I can hardly wait for that.”
“What about Christmas, Cole?” Virginia spoke up. “I’d hoped we’d be in California to celebrate the holiday.”
“We’ll just have to wait and see how it goes,” Cole replied. No way could he make them any promises.
Surprisingly, Walter was the first to start for his wagon. Everyone else did the same, and Cole mounted his horse. They’d soon be headed to the safety of the cabin, and maybe come morning things would look better.
Cynthia was anxious to go, but before getting into Walter’s wagon, she paused to thank the Lord for leading Cole to the cabin and for keeping him safe. She was about to add more to her words of thanks, when Walter, helping her into the wagon, said, “Well, isn’t that just wonderful? Who knows how long we’ll have to stay cooped up with everyone in that cabin before we can head out again?”
Cynthia sighed with exasperation. “You should be glad God has gotten us this far and that He led Cole to the cabin. What’s more, we ought to be thankful nothing happened to Cole while he was out there looking for fresh game.”
“Oh, is that how you see it?” Walter shot back. “Well, maybe you should ask yourself why, if Cole is so perfect as you seem to believe, aren’t we in California by now, like we are supposed to be?”
“Nobody can predict the unknown, Walter.” With her arms crossed, Cynthia held her ground. “I think Cole’s done a great job so far. Which is more than I can say for you,” she quickly added, surprised at her ability to speak up to Walter like this. Maybe Mama’s outspokenness was beginning to rub off on her.
The WESTWARD Christmas BRIDES COLLECTION: 9 Historical Romances Answer the Call of the American West Page 4