Wagon Trail

by Bonnie Bryant

  Stevie raised one eyebrow as she pulled the horse collar onto Yankee. “Well, if you need any help, feel free to call on me and my friends.”

  Gabriel gave a snide chuckle. “Thanks, but I don’t think that’s going to happen. Men didn’t rely on the womenfolk to help them guide the wagon train.”

  “Yes, but the menfolk relied on women for a lot of other important jobs,” said Stevie. “Like mending clothes and healing sick people and cooking meals.” She glared at Gabriel. “Maybe if you expect to eat anything on this trip, you ought to keep certain opinions to yourself.”

  Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Just my rotten luck,” he muttered. “The first women’s libber is going to Oregon on my wagon train.”

  “Maybe it’s your good luck,” Stevie whispered, hitching up Yankee and watching as Gabriel hurried over to help a family struggling with their horses’ harness. “Now you can learn firsthand what womenfolk can really do!”

  BY LATE AFTERNOON Stevie had shown Deborah how to steer their horses to the right by saying “gee” and to the left by calling “haw.” Much to her disgust, she had also donned a long-sleeved brown dress that scratched every inch of her. Lisa was outfitted in an equally itchy blue dress with a floppy collar, while Carole, because she was a horse rider, sported a blue homespun shirt and jeans with a battered cowboy hat.

  “I can’t believe I have to drive this wagon across the country in a dress,” Stevie complained, already scratching behind one shoulder. “Are you sure they didn’t have any extra jeans?”

  “I’m sure, Stevie,” Carole explained for the third time as she tried to relax on her new horse, a gray Appaloosa named Nikkia. “All the trousers were for the people who’d been assigned horses.”

  “I’ll tell you something else you’re not going to believe,” called Lisa as she pulled a slow-moving white cow up to their wagon.

  “What?” Stevie asked grumpily.

  “This cow’s name,” Lisa replied.

  “Let me guess,” Carole said as Nikkia slapped his ears back and tossed his head. “Bossy.”

  “Better than that.”

  “Flossy,” guessed Stevie, still scratching.

  “Even better than that,” Lisa said.

  “Okay, we give up,” said Carole.

  “Veronica!” Lisa answered with a huge grin.

  Stevie and Carole howled with laughter. Veronica di Angelo was the snobbiest, most stuck-up girl at Pine Hollow Stables. Somehow it was poetic justice that she should share her glamorous name with a stubborn cow.

  “Veronica would just die if she knew someone had named a cow after her,” hooted Stevie, forgetting about her scratchy dress.

  “I know,” Lisa laughed. “Isn’t it great?”

  A little while later it was time to corral the livestock for the night. Lisa took Veronica back to her pasture, while Carole gratefully pulled off Nikkia’s heavy Western saddle. As Stevie began to unhitch Yankee and Doodle, she noticed that Gabriel was leaning against a fence watching her work. For once his blue eyes sparkled in honest admiration at the smooth way she handled the horses. She was just about to say something to him when someone called him from the other end of the wagon train. She turned back to her horses, and as she returned them to the corral she realized that every time she’d seen Gabriel that day, he’d been going from wagon to wagon, pitching in wherever he was needed and generally giving people good advice.

  “Well, okay, so he knows a lot,” she admitted to Yankee and Doodle as they walked along beside her. “But his attitude toward ‘the womenfolk’ could sure be improved.”

  After the girls had taken care of their livestock, they decided to move from their comfortable lodge rooms out to their wagon. “If we’re roughing it,” said Stevie, “we ought to really rough it.” Just as they were spreading their sleeping bags out on the hard wagon floor, the dinner bell rang.

  “Howdy, pilgrims!” called a short, dumpy man with a grizzled beard. “My name’s Shelly Bean and I’m the cook of this outfit. All who are eating out here with me need to come and get it now!”

  “Let’s go,” said Stevie, scrambling out the back end of the wagon and nearly tripping over the hem of her long dress. “I’m starved!”

  Everyone lined up. As they passed the chuck wagon, Shelly Bean grinned and ladled some odd-smelling stew onto their plates. Then they all sat in a big circle around the campfire.

  “How do you like your supper?” Jeremy asked after everyone had begun to eat.

  “Tastes kind of unusual,” a woman said, coughing slightly.

  “It’s Shelly’s special pemmican stew,” Jeremy explained. “Dried meat and berries mixed in with cornmeal. The Cree Indians shared the recipe with the pioneers. It was a popular dish along this trail.”

  Everyone ate the stew. Though it was something they probably wouldn’t have liked at home, here, because they were sitting around a fire in the open country and were tired from a hard day’s preparation for their journey, it tasted fine.

  “Are we going to be eating this every night?” someone asked Jeremy.

  He shook his head. “No. We won’t be lucky enough to have pemmican stew every night. Most of what we eat we’ll be carrying with us, just like the pioneers. We’ll be traveling the same route as them, as much as modern towns and highways permit. That means we won’t have any electricity, running water, or heat. All we’ll have is the outdoors and the challenge of nature.”

  Deborah looked guiltily over at the rucksack that held her laptop computer. “I think I’d better leave that at the lodge,” she whispered to the girls. “It won’t do me any good anyway, without an outlet to recharge the batteries.”

  “I feel like I’m saying good-bye to the modern world forever,” Lisa said, taking the last bite of her stew.

  Jeremy spoke as if he’d read her mind. “Even though we’re going to live the lives the pioneers lived as much as possible, I will have a cell phone, just in case of emergency. Anybody else here carrying a cell phone?”

  Four people raised their hands.

  “Good,” said Jeremy. “We’ll be well prepared. On our third night out we’re scheduled to meet with some folks from a nearby dude ranch who are participating in a mock cattle drive. We’ll have fresh food and a hoedown and a real celebration by the fire. It should be a lot of fun.”

  “It sounds terrific!” someone called from across the fire.

  “I think you’ll find the next six days will be an experience you won’t soon forget,” Jeremy said.

  “I won’t soon forget spending six days in this dumb dress,” grumbled Stevie, trying to scratch between her shoulder blades.

  After everyone had finished supper, Stevie, Carole, and Lisa helped wash the dishes. Then they sponged themselves off in the cold, rushing creek and walked slowly toward their wagon.

  “I can’t believe how tired I am, and it’s not even sundown!” Carole said.

  “I know.” Lisa yawned. “That sleeping bag is going to feel great.”

  “I’ve got to write in my journal some before I go to sleep,” Stevie said as the girls climbed into the back of the wagon.

  “Are you sure you’ve got the energy for that?” Carole asked.

  “Well, I am tired, but I made Phil a promise and I’m going to keep it.”

  The girls settled in next to Deborah, who was already in her sleeping bag. Stevie lit a small oil lamp and dug her pen and journal out of her backpack.

  “Don’t write too late, Stevie,” said Deborah from under her covers. “Remember, the real journey starts tomorrow at sunup.”

  “I won’t,” Stevie whispered. She sat up and balanced the journal on her legs. Day One, she wrote at the top of the first page.

  Today we had a breakfast of mush and met our wagon master, Jeremy Barksdale. We’ve also met our horses and our cow and one very stuck-up boy named Gabriel, who thinks men conquered the West all by themselves.

  Stevie started to write that Gabriel did know all about wagons and harnesses and packing s
upplies, but she decided Phil probably wouldn’t be interested in that. Instead, she wrote:

  Gabriel is tall and lean, with dark brown hair and deep blue eyes. Occasionally he will smile, and then he has a dimple in his right cheek.

  “Oh no,” Stevie whispered, feeling a hot blush of embarrassment as she read over her words. “I can’t say that!” Quickly she tore the page out of her journal and started again.

  Today we had a breakfast of mush and met our wagon master, Jeremy Barksdale. We’ve met our horses and our cow and one very stuck-up boy named Gabriel, who thinks men conquered the West all by themselves. He considers himself an expert on everything from wagon driving to sheepherding, but I wonder how much he really knows. It should be fun to see how well he does with his job of assistant trail boss.

  Stevie reread her words and smiled. This was better. This was more like the real Gabriel. She added a few paragraphs about their wagon and the campfire; then she was done for the evening. She stuffed her journal back into her bag, blew out the lamp, and curled into her sleeping bag. In an instant she was asleep.

  IT WAS A little past midnight when Deborah shook Carole and Lisa awake. “Girls, there’s an emergency phone call for me at the lodge. You sit tight and I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  “Okay,” Lisa mumbled, rubbing her eyes.

  By the time Deborah had climbed over the sleeping bags and out of the wagon, all three girls were wide awake.

  “What do you think it could be?” Carole asked as she watched Deborah and Jeremy hurry toward the lodge.

  “I hope nothing’s wrong with Maxi,” said Stevie.

  “Or Max,” added Lisa.

  For what seemed like forever, they huddled in the dark wagon, wondering what could have gone wrong. Finally Deborah reappeared.

  “Okay, girls, here’s the deal. My father was in a car accident this evening. He’s in a hospital right now, and though it looks like he’s going to be okay, my mom’s really upset. Since I’m an only child, I have to be there for both of them. I hope you won’t be too disappointed, but I’m afraid we’ll have to leave right away.”

  “Sure, Deborah. We understand. We would want to be there if any of our parents were hurt,” said Carole, trying to hide her disappointment.

  “Jeremy’s making our flight arrangements, so I guess the best thing for us to do is to pack our stuff up and go back to the lodge. I’m really sorry this had to happen.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Deborah,” said Lisa. “This would have been a great trip, but we can do it some other time.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate your understanding.” Deborah gave a tired sigh.

  They had just begun to roll up their sleeping bags when Jeremy appeared at the back of the wagon.

  “Hey, Deborah, I was thinking. I watched these girls all day today and I think they’re all extremely capable, mature young ladies. It would be a shame to have them come this far and then have to leave. Why don’t you let me take them under my personal wing for the rest of the trip? That is, if it’s okay with you.”

  Deborah blinked. “Well, it’s okay with me if it’s okay with them. And, of course, with their parents.”

  “It’s okay with us,” Stevie assured her.

  “Well, let’s go call everybody in Virginia and explain the situation.”

  An hour later, the girls stood with Deborah in the lobby of the lodge. They had all gotten permission from their parents to remain on the trip, and they were waiting with Deborah for the cab that was to take her back to the airport.

  “It’s too bad I’m not going to be able to write that article,” Deborah said as she leaned against a long leather sofa. “That was the whole reason we came out here in the first place.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about that, Deborah,” Carole said. “Lisa and Stevie and I can do all the research you could possibly want. Stevie’s even keeping a journal.”

  “That’s right,” said Stevie. “We can help you write the article when we get back.”

  Lisa gave Deborah a hug. “It’s the least we can do.”

  “Well, thanks, girls,” Deborah said, hugging each of them. “I appreciate your good intentions.”

  “No, really,” insisted Stevie. “We can be a big help. I know we can.”

  Just then the cab pulled up.

  “I’ve got to go,” said Deborah, grabbing her backpack. “You girls be careful and do what Jeremy tells you. I’ll see you in about a week!”

  The Saddle Club waved as the cab pulled away from the lodge, leaving them standing alone with ten covered wagons under a dark sky spangled with stars.

  “STEVIE! WAKE UP!” Carole reined in Nikkia and peered at Stevie, who was nodding in the driver’s seat of the wagon. Breakfast was over, and everyone was waiting to pull out.

  “I’m not asleep,” Stevie said, yawning. “I’m just resting my eyes. I never could get back to sleep after Deborah left.”

  “Me neither,” said Lisa, who stood on the other side of the wagon holding Veronica by a frazzled rope. Lisa rubbed her eyes. “I think I got about fifteen minutes of sleep the entire night. I couldn’t believe it when the triangle rang at five-thirty. This is going to be one long day!”

  Stevie blinked at Jeremy, who had ridden to the front of the column. Suddenly she sat up straight and tightened the reins. “I’m not sure, but I think our long day might be starting right now.”

  The girls looked toward the lead wagon. Jeremy, on a big brown-and-white paint horse, stood to one side of it. He waited for everyone’s attention, then rose in his stirrups.

  “Everyone ready?” he called, lifting his hat high above his head and grinning broadly.

  Everyone in the wagon train cheered.

  “Then wagons ho!” he called. His horse rose up once on its hind legs, then turned quickly around. With a swish of its tail, it carried Jeremy westward at a brisk trot. One by one, the wagons began to lumber after him.

  “Here we go!” Stevie cried when their turn to move came. She popped Yankee and Doodle’s reins. The horses strained hard against their collars. Then all at once The Saddle Club began to roll west.

  The morning was a busy one. Stevie itched constantly from the rough material of her dress, and the wagon bumped her rear end with every turn of the wheels. The sun beamed down on the back of her neck, and though Yankee and Doodle pulled the wagon easily, they paid far more attention to the team in front of them than they did to Stevie.

  Lisa spent the morning trying to control Veronica, who tended to stop every ten feet to graze leisurely by the side of the road.

  “Come on, Veronica,” Lisa would coo sweetly, giving a gentle tug on the rope. “We need to walk this way, over by the wagons.” Veronica would look dully at Lisa, take one step, then pull up a mouthful of grass as the wagon train rolled past them. “Come on, sweet Veronica,” Lisa would call again, tugging harder. Veronica would chew her grass and budge only an inch. Finally, as the dust from the passing wagons began to sting Lisa’s eyes and clog her nose, she took a deep breath and gave a mighty heave on Veronica’s rope. “Come on, you nitwit cow!” she commanded. At that, Veronica bawled a low moo and began to trudge forward.

  Though she was sleepy, Carole was able to endure Nikkia’s rough trot all morning. She could tell by the way the stocky Appaloosa slapped his ears back when she asked for a canter that he had been the victim of a lot of what she called kick-and-yank riders. As she looked around, she saw that many of the people riding with the wagon train were that kind of rider.

  “If you pull the right rein gently, then release it, he’ll go more willingly,” she finally told Karen Nicely, a woman whose horse was so confused by her aids that he had just stopped, unable to figure out which way she wanted him to go.

  “Thanks,” Karen Nicely said, trying what Carole had suggested.

  “Hey, how do you make them stop?” asked a breathless man whose horse was jigging sideways.

  “And how do you make them back up?” called someone else.

 
Suddenly Carole found herself giving mini–riding lessons, right there in the middle of the trail. She didn’t mind, because she didn’t want any novice riders abusing their horses from lack of knowledge. Still, showing everybody what to do as the wagons rolled around them was exhausting, I never realized before what a good job Max does of teaching, she thought as she and Nikkia were finally able to canter back up to Stevie and the wagon.

  They stopped for lunch at midday. Stevie pulled the team to a halt while Carole fetched water for Veronica and their three horses. Lisa tugged Veronica up to the wagon and tied her to the rear wheel. After they had taken care of their animals, they trudged over to the chow line.

  “How’s it going for you girls?” Jeremy asked as he strode past.

  Stevie yawned. “Fine, except I’ve got blisters on my rear from the wagon, and blisters on my fingers from the reins, plus neither Yankee nor Doodle is paying me a whole lot of attention.”

  “And Veronica pays me no attention at all,” added Lisa.

  Jeremy grinned. “Great. This is exactly what the pioneers had to deal with—cranky cows and hardmouthed horses. You’re getting a real taste of history!”

  “Right now, I’d rather get a real taste of lunch!” said Carole as Jeremy ran over to assist a family whose wagon wheel needed to be greased.

  Shelly Bean worked hard ladling out the fried cornmeal mush and fresh apples he’d fixed for lunch. “Eat hearty!” he called as the girls took their plates and sat down beside a small pond. The mush and apples seemed like a peculiar lunch, but they tasted wonderful, and soon they felt their usual energy levels returning.

  “I’m beginning to understand why they assigned four people to a wagon,” Stevie said, rubbing the blisters on her hand. “Taking care of a wagon plus three horses and a cow is a tough job for four people, let alone three.”

  “Don’t forget that Jeremy is always here to help us,” Carole said.

  “Oh, I think we’ll be fine, but it’s exhausting doing all these jobs by ourselves.” Lisa wiped the dust from her forehead. “Why don’t we change places every few hours? The jobs won’t get any easier, but at least we’ll exercise different parts of our anatomies. Stevie, you won’t get bounced so badly; Carole, your legs won’t be so sore; and maybe one of you will have better luck with the cow.”