by Linda Ford
Gil caught the glisten of a silvery tear trailing down Judith’s cheek and rubbed her back. “Don’t condemn yourself.”
She faced him, the tears making twin tracks down her face. “I failed Frank. I will not fail Anna.”
He pulled her head to his shoulder, wanting to croon lullabies and comfort to her. “You are not to blame for Frank’s choices.”
“How can you know that?”
He tried to think of a way to make her understand without speaking evil of the dead. “Because I have seen your loving, kind nature. You would have helped Frank if he had let you. I know that.”
She held Anna safe with one hand and clutched at his shirt front with her other. A sob shook her shoulders.
“Did I say something wrong?”
She rocked her head back and forth and managed to speak. “You said exactly what I needed you to say. I wanted to help him. I tried to tell him money didn’t matter to me. But I wasn’t enough for him,”
“He was mistaken.”
She clung to him and he held her as firmly as he could while guiding the mules. If the animals had been anything but well trained, he wouldn’t have been able to hold her at all.
A moment later, she sniffed and sat up, adjusting Anna to a more comfortable position. The little one stirred and sighed but did not waken.
Judith and Gil looked at each other, sharing a mutual concern for the baby.
Judith met Gil’s eyes. The man—her husband, she thought with a start of surprise—had offered her words of comfort that no one else had. Everyone pretended Frank had died in an unfortunate accident so they couldn’t address how inadequate she felt at being deliberately left behind to handle all the raw emotions on her own. Frank had left her to do that. Her friends and family had forced her to continue to do it by not acknowledging the pain of how he’d died.
She feared that Anna would die—either from diphtheria or a broken heart. “No matter what, she will know love.”
Gil’s gaze echoed her vow. “Do you know the love chapter?”
She knew what he meant. “First Corinthians chapter thirteen. It’s one of the passages Mama had me memorize when I had a broken leg.”
“Say if for me.” His smile melted a layer of hardness from around her heart and she quoted the chapter for him.
“Say again the part about what charity is like.”
“‘ Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.’”
“That is what love looks like.” His warm gaze brushed a tender spot in her heart. “Perfect love comes from God, but we can offer that love to others.”
She nodded. “If only Frank had believed that.”
“If only Lillian had.”
They silently acknowledged the truth and the pain of their confessions.
Gil took her hand. “We can do our utmost to do things differently.”
She didn’t know if he meant in regards to Anna or as man and wife and it didn’t matter because she meant to apply it to both areas in her life.
The afternoon passed quickly as Gil pointed out aspects of the landscape that she might have missed. The different grasses—foxtail and goatgrass. She thought the flowers were all dormant for the winter but he pointed out some shy white asters near the trail.
The conversation shifted to talk of their childhoods.
“I spent many hours in my father’s store,” Gil said. “I made toys out of bolts and nuts. I made farms with them. Pa was patient with finding them lined up behind the barrels when he swept the floor. Rope made great corrals but pa wouldn’t let me take the new rope down. Instead, he gave me an old hunk of rope and said it was mine. I untwisted it so I ended up with many strands.” He paused as if lost in his memories.
Judith enjoyed hearing how he coped as a motherless little boy.
He continued. “One time someone left a bunch of pups to give away. Oh, how I begged Pa to let me keep one but he said no. A dog didn’t belong in a store. I didn’t let him see me cry when the last one was taken to a new home.” He chuckled at the memory, but Judith saw a lonely boy sorely in need of a home and family.
“No wonder you were so happy to get a new mother.”
“And a brother. I looked up to Ollie. He seemed to know so much more about life than I did. I don’t know if he was all that pleased to have to share his mother, but he tolerated me and allowed me to tag along when he went places.”
The wagon wheels turned round and round as they talked.
By the time the nearby wagons circled Judith had learned a great deal about Gil and likely he’d learned as much about her.
They stopped and Gil took Anna from her arms. He tried to wake her. She opened her eyes at his prodding, but her gaze remained unfocused and she couldn’t hold her head up.
Judith saw her concern reflected in Gil’s eyes.
“We can only wait for this to pass,” he said. “I’ll put her on the blanket and watch her while you gather the fuel.”
She grimaced, although she was almost glad to have her thoughts diverted from worry about Anna. They couldn’t be sure this would pass. “I’d forgotten about that.”
“Kick the chips before you pick them up. That will scare away any critters.”
“I’m not going out there unarmed.” She reached for the shovel and stared at Gil as he roared with laughter.
“I thought we were going to take a gun,” he said, when he could speak.
“I think I’ll get more satisfaction out of whacking anything that threatens me.” She marched away, his laugher following her. The sound filled her heart with an unfamiliar feeling of joy.
Why unfamiliar, she asked herself? Frank had made her laugh every day. But this was different. Gil was different. He cared more about how she felt.
Judith ground to a halt. How could she be so disloyal to Frank’s memory? He had been a good man who treated her well. Except taking his own life didn’t fit into either category.
She must be faithful to Frank’s memory and keep her goal in mind. Find Frank’s stepbrother and inform him of his guilt in Frank’s death.
She gathered her apron into a pouch and forced herself to pick up buffalo chips. Mary Mae, Donna Grace, Mrs. Shepton and young Polly did the same keeping a distance from Judith. It almost looked like fun as the four of them chatted together and laughed.
Mary Mae paused to wave at Judith and they all turned to wave and call a greeting.
Judith waved back then forced her attention to her task. She longed to be able to visit with them and make supper jointly, but it would be four more days before they were allowed to rejoin the others and then only if none of them got sick.
She hurriedly gathered chips, gritting her teeth each time she had to pick up one. Only the necessity of a hot meal, the promise of hot coffee and the urgency to get back to check on Anna enabled her to keep at the task. Her apron full, she sped back to the solitary camp and dumped her load on the ground.
Gil sat beside Anna who still slept.
How long could one little girl sleep? Unless she was sick?
Judith went to the pair and touched Anna’s forehead. It was cool. She lifted her little dress and felt her stomach. Also cool. Judith checked for a rash. Nothing. She turned Anna over which made the child whine a protest. Again Judith checked for any sign of something amiss.
She sat back on her heels. “There’s nothing wrong that I can see.”
“That should be good news.”
She chuckled softly. “I suppose it is.”
Gil prepared the fire while she mixed up batter for biscuits and sliced strips of salt pork to fry. She checked the water level and decided there wasn’t enough to soak beans. But someone had sent them a bit of cheese. She’d save that for Anna when she woke up.
“It’s ready,” she announced.
Gil took his plate of food and went to Anna’s side. “Maybe the smell of food will waken her.” He held it close to her nose and called her name. Anna did not wake up.
> Gil covered her against the evening chill and returned to the fire. He held out his hands for Judith’s which seemed to be his preferred way to say the blessing.
She held his hands, and let his prayer of faith and gratitude fill her with peace.
Later, she gave Anna more water and wakened her enough for her to go potty then put her in the wagon and covered her well.
Neither Judith nor Gil seemed in a hurry to end the evening. They sat huddled in blankets listening to the harmonica and watching the flicker of the smoky fire in the circle of wagons where the others lounged. Even after the last of the fire died down, the last lonely note of the mouth organ faded and the murmur of conversation ended, they sat side by side.
Judith couldn’t say what Gil’s reason were for sitting up. She told herself she didn’t want to go to bed because she worried about Anna.
Maybe, she thought with a gulp of guilt, Gil waited for her to leave so he could go to bed.
“It’s late.” Her cheeks burned as she scurried for the back of the wagon.
As she climbed in and pulled the canvas closer tight, she heard his soft reply. “No need to rush away.”
No need to linger either, she silently answered as she settled in beside Anna. Please, God, let her be okay. And please, please help her wake up. It really frightens me that she sleeps so long.
What if she had the diphtheria?
What had Gil said? Sufficient to the day is the evil thereof. She knew what the saying meant. There were enough problems in every day without borrowing more from the future.
The sound of Gil settling for the night made her feel safe and sheltered and she fell asleep.
She woke to an unfamiliar sound. Like running water. Or a bubbling pot. She lay still trying to place the sound. Then it hit her and she sat up. “Anna, you’re awake.” She could barely make out the baby in the darkness of night, but there was no mistaking she was the source of the sound.
Judith pushed aside her covers, ignoring the cold air. What were they doing out in the midst of nowhere this late in the season? She rushed to the back of the wagon and loosened the ropes. “Gil,” she called softly. “Gil.” Already the black sky turned to gunmetal gray.
His hair tossed up, his eyes bleary, he rushed to the back of the wagon. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She touched his shoulder. “Listen.”
He turned toward the prairie.
“No, in here. It’s Anna.”
He swung over the tailgate. “Is she—?”
“Listen.”
He did. “She sounds happy.”
“She’s awake and happy and healthy and I’m so pleased.” She hugged Gil.
He hugged her back. “I can’t think of better news.”
Thin light filled the air. At the main camp, men stirred.
“Anna is better,” Gil yelled out.
A cheer went up from the camp.
Judith and Gil sat side by side, as the light grew, watching a baby who babbled and gurgled.
Buck rode close. “It’s good news, folks, but we need to be on our way. I want to reach the river today.”
Gil lifted Anna from the wagon.
Judith was so pleased with life, she didn’t even mind building a fire with the buffalo chips though they did not burn at all like wood. While she made breakfast and Gil prepared the mules for their day in harness, Anna toddled about interested in everything from the spokes on the wagon to the rocks on the ground.
Gil returned and stood at Judith’s side as they both watched the little girl.
“It is good to see her like this,” Gil said.
“Indeed it is.” He draped an arm across her shoulders and she wrapped an arm about his waist as they rejoiced together over Anna’s improvement.
“I guess she was simply tired,” he said.
“And sad. Sadness can make us do strange things.”
He tilted his head to rest on her hair. “I’d say a good long sleep is one of the better ways of dealing with sorrow.”
They laughed together then he asked the blessing and they ate breakfast. Gil and Judith laughed again as Anna went from one to the other demanding food from their plates. She consumed a great deal of food for one small body.
It was time to leave and they scurried around putting away the pots and pans. Judith offered Gil the last of the coffee. As he went to pick up Anna, she laughed and ran from him.
With a shout of joy, he chased her pretending she outran him.
Judith watched the pair, enjoying the way they both laughed.
He swept Anna off her feet and into a wide arc. Anna giggled.
Judith laughed too. Was there anything more beautiful that the sound of a baby’s belly laugh? Unless it was hearing a man’s deep, rumbling chuckle accompanying it.
Not until they were seated in the wagon and on their way did Gil remind Judith of something she had forgotten.
“Today is Sunday.”
“Why, so it is.” She looked longingly toward the other wagons. “They’ll have a service tonight. Reverend Shepton will give a few words of exhortation or encouragement. How I wish we could join them and share our joy over Anna’s improvement.”
“We’ll be able to hear them sing.”
“Of course.”
“We could have our own service. What would you think of that?”
“I didn’t know you were a preacher too.” She pretended both surprise and interest.
His eyes flashed. “I am a man of many talents, but preaching isn’t one of them.”
She longed to ask him to list his many talents but her tongue refused to work when she saw the teasing look in his eyes. “Then how will we have a service?”
“We can certainly rejoice over this little one.” He indicated Anna who sat at their feet amused by her collection of rocks. “You could recite one of the passages you memorized. There must be one for happy occasions.”
“I like that idea.” Psalm Ninety-Six would be perfect. It was full of references to joy. She mentally rehearsed the verses as they rolled across the prairie.
They stopped for noon then Buck hurried them on. Shortly afterwards they reached a ravine. Judith and Gil remained at the rear as the other wagons crossed ahead of them.
Gil stood in the wagon, his hat pushed back. “I should be there guiding them down.”
“There are plenty of experienced men. I believe I heard you say that.”
“I know, but I feel so helpless standing here doing nothing. It’s a steep descent and a man has to know how to approach it to prevent the wagons from tipping sideways or running away. I could tell them.”
One by one the wagons crossed. The lighter wagons of the passengers went first and then the freight wagons. She knew the drivers of her brothers’ wagons and held her breath as they headed down the slope. With much yelling they made it safely down and up the other side.
She knew by the way Gil curled his fists and mumbled instructions that the next three wagons were his. One of the wagons slid precariously at the edge, threatening to tip.
Gil leapt to the ground and took two strides forward.
Buck seemed to have anticipated what Gil would do and rode his horse between Gil and the wagons. “You cannot help.” His order was loud and clear and Gil skidded to a halt. He planted his fists on his hips and took a wide stance as he watched.
The driver straightened the wagon and it rumbled down the slope and up the other side.
Gil visibly relaxed, but he remained watchful as the rest of the wagons crossed.
Buck waved to Gil. “Now you can go.”
Gil returned to the wagon. “Take Anna on your knee and hold her tight.”
Judith half expected the little girl to complain, but she played with Judith’s fingers. Holding the baby made it impossible for Judith to clutch the seat so she settled for gritting her teeth and holding her breath as they began the descent.
Gil’s entire attention was on guiding the wagon down the slope. The mules leaned back
into the harness to keep from being pushed off their feet and then they were at the bottom. They passed the shattered remains of a recent crash then began the ascent.
“That wasn’t so bad,” she said, as they reached the top.
Gil laughed. “I could hear your teeth crack from the pressure you put on them.”
“You could not.” Then, realizing he teased her, she laughed.
They were several hundred yards behind the other wagons and eating their dust so he pulled to the side of the trail and increased the pace until they drew abreast of the lighter wagons, although they remained a hundred yards to the left of them.
The women waved to Judith and she waved back. Anna waved and called out.
“It sounds like she’s saying hello.” Judith laughed. “What a joy to have her like this.”
Gil’s smile warmed her clear through.
Judith could not stop a laugh from bubbling up inside her.
Gil quirked his eyebrows to ask what she found amusing.
“After the worry of the last few days, to have Anna well and happy just feels so good.” Judith was content with this moment in her life. But she must not forget her purpose of this trip. It hadn’t been to gain a husband and a child though she now had both and they would be a part of her future plans, but she would not, could not allow them to interfere with her quest to find Frank’s brother. She was about to ask Gil if he knew of a Mr. Jones, first name unknown, a freighter on the Santa Fe Trail when Buck signaled for the wagons to turn off the trail toward the south.
The freighters grumbled, their complaints loud, as they forced the oxen to leave the well-marked ruts.
Judith knew it was unusual and leaned far to the right wondering why Buck had called for this action.
Smoke rose from a hollow a distance from the trial, ahead of them and on the north side. From that direction came the smell of burning wood and canvas and another scent that shivered up and down her spine. She tried to place the smell. It was familiar, yet not. The fire must signal danger for Buck to order them to skirt it. She shuddered though she couldn’t say why.
“What’s wrong? Why are we leaving the trail? ” she asked Gil.