The Love and Loss of Joshua James

by Danni Roan

  The sound of a case snapping shut had Joshua on his feet. “Doctor Adams,” he called softly. “Can I have a word?”

  “Of course,” the lean doctor replied, straightening his collar and walking to the fire.

  “Coffee.” Billy barked, pouring the hot brew into a tin cup and handing it to the doctor, who was getting a cup whether he wanted one or not.

  “Doctor Adams, I was wondering if you’ll be moving on with us or if you headin’ somewhere else?” Joshua inquired, glancing behind him at the covered wagon that jostled and shivered from movement within.

  “I’m afraid the troop is headin’ out on patrol,” the doctor said. “If you were to stay in the area, I reckon I could swing back to where you are when the time comes. You’ve got a plucky wife there, but she ain’t as strong as she thinks she is.”

  “Thank you for taking the time to see us,” Joshua spoke again. “I have some thinking to do, I guess.” He reached out a large hand and shook the doctor’s. “Good luck on patrol.”

  “Good luck to you as well, Mr. James. There’s been a bit of trouble around about lately with the natives, so you watch yourself.”

  The lean doctor took a sip of his coffee and scowled. “Seems that now Wyoming is officially a territory, fellas are finding that cows do real good out here. Some of them ain’t too particular as to where they graze, and a few small pockets of Indians are a little upset. You be careful out there on the trail.”

  He took a final swig of his coffee before handing the cup back to Billy. “Much obliged, Cookie,” the doc said, then picked up his black bag and moved away into the darkness.

  Joshua sat staring into the fire for a long time, his mind a bee-hive of activity as the silence of the night settled around him.

  In the distance, he could hear a coyote yip and the soft lowing of oxen as they bedded down for the night. A horse’s snort or the buzz of an insect were all familiar to him.

  “Are ye comin’ ta bed tonight?” Bridgette’s voice carried to him on the night air.

  Joshua dumped the last of his now cold coffee onto the fire, then rose and walked to the back of the wagon.

  “I thought you’d never come to bed,” Bridgette half scolded. “It gets awful lonely in here in the dark.” She leaned out of the opening to kiss him on the lips.

  “I thought you were already asleep.”

  “I drifted a bit but couldn’t sleep. Not without your strong arm around me.” The smile in her voice was audible.

  The wagon creaked and shifted as Joshua hefted his weight to the tailgate and swung himself up into the dark interior. “I guess I’ll have to remedy that, then, won’t I?” he asked, stretching out onto the soft down mattress and extending his arm.

  Bridgette nestled in close to him with a sigh, her head on his shoulder and her soft body pressed against his. He could feel her belly tight against his hip, then movement as if something had tapped him.

  Bridgette giggled. “This is the wiggliest child I ever could believe,” she said, “I guess she just kicked her Da.”

  Joshua chuckled, a sound that was far too unfamiliar.

  “You’re worryin,’ aren’t ye?” Bridgette spoke a few moments later.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m sorry to be such a troublesome woman.”

  “You’re not troublesome,” he said, squeezing her tight. “I don’t want to press through and have trouble later.”

  Outside crickets chirped in the darkness, filling the warm night with a soft cadence

  “Go on, then,” Bridgette prompted. “What are you thinking? And don’t pretend something isn’t buzzing around in your brain. I know the signs.”

  Joshua was quiet for so long that Bridgette lifted her chin trying to see him in the darkness.

  “Wyoming became a territory last year,” Josh began.

  “Go on,” Bri prompted.

  “Seems like awfully fine land, all open and free.”

  “It’s wide open, I’ll give you that.”

  “We could stay right here.” Joshua’s words were quiet and Bridgette knew he wasn’t done yet, so she didn’t speak.

  “We could find a nice spot, maybe something with a few trees, and settle right here.”

  Bridgette pushed herself up on her elbow and turned to look down on the shadowy face of her husband. They’d been together for nearly six years now. He’d been a young man of twenty when he courted her, she was only seventeen, but it seemed she’d known him forever.

  “Joshua, Oregon was your dream,” she said, a question in her voice.

  Joshua James pushed himself into a sitting position and scooted backward until his back rested on a heavy crate and raised his arm, pulling Bridgette to him. “Darlin’ you’re my dream. You and Katie and Meg; that little one waiting to come into this big old world.”

  He paused, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “It doesn’t matter where we are, what matters is that we’re together. Wherever we stop, we’ll work hard and make a home by the grace of God and the sweat of our brow.”

  “I won’t lie, Joshua; it would be good to stop. Somedays I’m weary. You, Brion, and Benji have done more than your fair share and maybe if we stopped near here, I’d have some help when the baby comes.” She ran her hands over the bulge in her heavy nightdress.

  “We’ll follow along the river for a while,” Joshua mused. “Maybe turn a little south toward those big mountains we heard about.”

  Bridgette snuggled in closer, liking the sound of his voice, the warm vibrations coming from his chest, and the words he spoke.

  “I’ll find you some trees,” Joshua continued. “Big trees with branches so we can hang a swing.”

  “Mh,” Bridgette sighed as Joshua ran a hand up along her arm, feeling the silky warmth of her skin.

  “We can talk to Brion and Benji tomorrow.” Joshua’s thoughts turned as he wondered if his brother-in-law and best friend would stay or move on toward the west.

  All three men had made a living farming. They had supplies, seeds, and a plow stowed with the wagon. It was late in the year, but perhaps they could get a few vegetables if they planted right away.

  Bridgette’s even breathing told Joshua she’d drifted off to sleep. He knew how tired she was, how weary she got each day as the baby took more and more from her. Quietly he closed his eyes and let a peacefulness settle over him.

  “Lord, guide us,” he whispered as he let sleep find him.

  "YOU JOSHUA JAMES?" A man in a blue uniform and with dark hair called as he came stomping unevenly toward the wagons the next morning.

  "Yes," Joshua called back, wondering what the man could want.

  "I'm Davrum Deeks." The man's dark eyes were pinched and weary. "I'm the former blacksmith ta Fort Caspar and I heared you was strikin' out to get a piece a' land nearby."

  "That's right," Joshua replied cautiously, still unsure why the other man had come to him. He wanted to be on the road.

  "Well the doc tolt me about yuns and I was wondering if you'd have me along?" He rested his hand on his back just above his hip. "See I gots a bad back and cain't keep up with the horses no more. They got a new fella what's up to it now. Anyways I was thinking I got my pay packet and a couple head a' horses. Even got me some chickens an' if you'd have me I'd like to set out with ya and help ya make a start."

  The dark eyes were full of pain and it was clear that the man, no older than Joshua himself, was suffering. What could a blacksmith do if he couldn't ply his trade? Besides, it would be a useful skill to add to their little troupe.

  "Mr. Deeks, you're welcome to join us," Joshua finally spoke. "Do you need us to lay by while you get your gear together?" He hated the thought of a delay but believed that people came to you for a reason.

  "Nah, I got me a wagon and all my gear’s stowed. I'm only ta the back o' the line there and can fall in straight away."

  Joshua smiled. "Then we're happy to have you. Fall in behind Billy and we'll roll." He clicked to his team and within moments, f
our wagons were bumping across the open prairie.

  Chapter 7

  THE WAGON SEAT LEANED to the left as they made a turn around a small hill that blended almost perfectly with the flat looking prairie. Although the grassland looked even and all the same, it had gullies and valleys that you didn’t notice until you were nearly on it.

  The small caravan of travelers had been rolling over unstruck territory for three days, as a steady rain drizzled on their heads, bringing with it cooler days and quiet nights. The dust usually kicked up by their teams settled, and instead of the prairie growing thick and sticky with mud, it seemed to firm up, making rolling over the grass like traveling on a road.

  A wan sun peeked through the clouds gleaming off an object, and Joshua pulled back on the reins with a steady hand.

  “Stay here,” he barked, grabbing his rifle and jumping from the wagon. Pausing only a minute to see that Benji had done the same, he turned toward the low depression and boldly walked forward. The sound of muffled hoof beats assured him that Brion rode close as he settled the rifle stock in his hands.

  “Hello,” Josh called, his boots slipping slightly as he moved into the shadow of the hillock. No sound greeted him, but he moved forward anyway. The hair on the back of his neck prickling told him they were not alone.

  “We ain’t here to hurt you.” He raised his voice again. “We’re just movin’ through. We’ve got food if you need it.”

  A sinewy brown form slipped from behind a low bush, rising like a wraith from thin air. Joshua gripped his rifle but forced himself not to jump as the Indian approached.

  The red savage was dressed only in buckskin breeches and moccasins but carried a rifle. A bandage wound around his upper arm was spotted crimson and his eyes looked hollow.

  “I’m Joshua James,” Josh spoke, looking the young man in the eye. “We mean you no harm. My family and I only want to live quietly. Are you hungry?”

  Joshua didn’t look behind him, but he noted the brave’s eyes as they studied both Benji and Brion where they’d stationed themselves at his back.

  “Food,” the brave finally spoke.

  “Yes food,” Joshua said. “Come along with me and I’ll get you whatever we can spare.”

  As if from nowhere three more braves appeared, rising from the ground or materializing from behind a slip of brush that shouldn’t have been able to hide a prairie chicken. One of them led a pinto pony that drooped and shuffled almost as wearily as the men, as it pulled a travois bearing a wounded warrior.

  Without a word, Joshua turned his back on the small party and walked toward his wagons.

  “Billy,” he called as he approached. “These men need some vitals, what you got handy?”

  Billy climbed over his seat and into the back of his wagon, then appeared again minutes later from the back.

  “I gots some sourdough bread and ham,” he said, walking forward carrying an open box. “There’s some pickles and even a can or two of peaches.” He eyed the braves suspiciously but offered the box.

  For several moments, all the men stood looking at each other until the brave with the bandage wrapped around his arm reached in and took the bread, handing it to one of his companions.

  As if some word of permission had been given, the other two men grabbed the box and moved toward their companion on the litter, tearing at the bread and ham and eating hungrily even as they tried to get the prostrate figure to partake.

  The first brave still stood looking first at Benji, then Brion, then Billy and finally Josh. His dark eyes met the icy-stare boldly, without blinking.

  “You go there,” he spoke, raising his hand and pointing down along the ridge of the rise they were on. “You find water, good grass, good hunting.” He didn’t smile, he didn’t blink, he only pointed and stared, his eyes dark and weary.

  Joshua nodded once and watched the brave turn back to his companions. He didn’t know what had brought them along this trail. He didn’t know what sort of trouble had caused their injuries. He only knew that they were, like his party, alone in the wilderness.

  Moving slowly, he walked back to his wagon and swung up on the seat next to Bri, who looked pale, strained and frightened. Leaning toward her, he placed a kiss on her cheek then shook out the reins, getting the horses moving in the direction the brave had directed.

  It was a gamble, but something told him that the other man meant them no harm and that it was the way to go.

  A half day’s ride further and the wagon creaked over thick grass toward a grove of cottonwood trees dwarfed by the mountains in the far distance. The prairie was verdant with greens and wildflowers, and mule deer grazed along a stream that sparkled like diamonds in the afternoon sun.

  “It’s beautiful, Josh,” Bridgette spoke, wrapping her arm in his. “Look there at the trees. They’ve grown in several clumps that can border our home.” She smiled brightly. “I can see it clearly as if it was already there.”

  Joshua chuckled. “It’ll be nice to stop,” he said, pleased that she liked the grove. They’d need to make shelters, but for now, they had the wagons and if they were quick, they might even get a few root vegetables before the snows came.

  They pulled the wagons up under the shade of two large cottonwoods that stood furthest from the stream, their lower branches thick and sprawling. The girls jumped down from the wagon almost as soon as it stopped, racing to the trees and dancing around them, looking for a way up into the branches that were heavy with the green of summer.

  Billy untied his goats and tethered them on the thick grass that grew all around. “Looks like a mighty fine place,” he said, his eyes dark with thought. “Pretty as a picture what with them mountains all up an’ down over yonder.”

  “They’re grand indeed,” Brion said as he swung down from his horse. “It’s good land here. Good water, plenty of feed for raisin’ horses.” He patted Josh on the back with a loud smack.

  “Rich soil, too,” Benji said, scuffing his toe on a rock and turning it over to expose dark earth beneath. “We’ll get a garden in soon as we can.” He turned and looked to Bridgette. “You can pick where to put the sod shack,” he said with a smile.

  “It won’t be much at first,” Joshua spoke, studying his wife’s face. “But we’ll make it work.”

  Bridgette moved to his side, resting her head on his shoulder. “It’s beautiful.” Her voice was almost a whisper. “It won’t be hard livin’ rough with views like this.” She sighed contentedly, then stood straight again. “Thank ye all for stayin’ with us.” She added, “I’m not sure if you’re wonderful or daft, but I’m glad ye came.”

  With a smile, she turned and gazed around her. “Now let’s get to work.”

  Chapter 8

  JOSHUA JAMES PACED in front of the little sod shack, his heavy boots raising tiny puffs of dust from the hard-packed dirt yard with every step. His shirt was plastered to him by the nervous perspiration that seemed to ooze from each pore.

  Another anguished wail stole through the crooked wooden door and he cringed, hunching his shoulders as if warding off a physical blow.

  The sun in the western sky was sinking low and the cool of the night began to creep across the ever-darkening grasslands as a light breeze made him shiver.

  Another scream splitting the night followed by a clattering of steel implements had Joshua wrenching the door open and sliding into the single room where oil lamps turned to their highest flame illuminated every nook and cranny.

  Bridgette lay still and silent as a rag doll sprawled on the heavy rail framed double bed in the far corner of the room, her skin a ghostly white.

  “Bri?” he croaked, reaching out a hand toward her.

  “Sit with her,” a tired voice called as a man bent over a bundle on the small rough table near a tiny cookstove.

  Joshua swallowed hard before crossing to the bed and easing himself down on it, making the rope and wood frame groan.

  Gently he lifted Bridgette’s cold limp hand in his, pushing d
amp hair away from her face. He felt small and helpless as he looked at his unconscious wife.

  A soft whimper behind him made Joshua turn to see the lean army doctor lift something from the table. Behind him, Billy stood at the stove stirring something and grumbling under his breath.

  “You have another daughter, Mr. James,” the doctor said wearily. “She had a hard time getting here, but she’s healthy enough.” He moved toward Joshua, handing him a tightly swaddled form.

  “She’s heavy,” Joshua said, gazing down into the puckered face of his little girl.

  “They usually are in situations like this.” The doc spoke, running a hand through his already tousled hair. “The birth dislocated her shoulder.” He finally spoke again, “I put it back and wrapped her up tight. She’s good as gold now.” He pushed the blanket away from the little girl’s face, looking at eyes that were neither blue nor green.

  “What about Bri?” Joshua asked, gently rocking the babe in his arms.

  The sound of silence stretched taut across the little shack for long moments as Joshua waited.

  “She’s lost a lot of blood.” The doctor finally spoke, his voice soft, his eyes meeting Joshua’s icy stare. “She’s in God’s hands now.”

  “Soup’s on,” Billy barked, plunking bowls on the table roughly. “They’s hot water in the washbowl,” he added, looking at the doctor. “You might as well sit yerself down.”

  “I’ll call the others.” Joshua rose, still cradling his newborn in the crook of his arm.

  “Nope,” Billy said gruffly, “They got their grub and are fine where they is. Now you eat up and don’t give me no trouble.” He ladled soup into the bowls and placed a loaf of freshly sliced bread in the middle of the table along with a plate of soft white cheese.

  Joshua noticed how the doctor shook his head but walked to the washbasin, scrubbed his hands, and moved to the table. “I’ll just pick up my things first,” he said, stopping and turning.

  “Them do-dads is already in the other pot boilin’,” Billy said, “eat yer vitals so’s you can look after our Bridgette. No reason we should all be swoonin’ for hunger.”