So Little Time

by Al Lacy

  “Well, I’m glad Black Hawk and his squaw feel that way toward you, Sergeant,” said the colonel. “And even though the Cheyenne will continue to fight us, I’m glad Sky Eagle will live.”

  McClain smiled and nodded without comment.

  Lamont looked at Pierson. “I believe, Lieutenant, you had something you wanted to say to Sergeant Reardon.”

  Pierson cleared his throat and sat up straight, looking at McClain. “Sergeant, I owe you an apology. I was wrong for wanting to kill that wounded Indian.”

  Another smile creased McClain’s handsome features. “I’m glad you see that, Lieutenant.”

  “Well, both of these captains talked pretty straight to me on the way back to the fort.” He paused and adjusted his position on the chair. “I want to say, Sergeant, that what you did to stop me out there has made me admire you very much. Thanks for standing up to me and keeping me from doing something I would have regretted.”

  “You’re welcome, sir. And you would have regretted murdering Sky Eagle. God’s Word says, ‘Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap.’ Whatever seed we sow in life eventually comes back to us. If we sow bad seed, when the harvest comes—and it always does—we reap bad results. On the other hand, if we sow good seed, the harvest produces good results. It’s God’s natural law.”

  Pierson scratched his head. “Never thought of it that way, Sergeant. But I can see the truth of it.”

  11

  Two YEARS LATER

  JUST AFTER TEN O’CLOCK on Saturday morning May 10, 1879, Sergeant McClain Reardon stepped out of the barracks into a flood of golden sunshine and headed across the compound toward Fort Steele’s chapel. A warm, dry breeze touched him as the sound of twittering birds from the surrounding trees met his ears.

  A moment later, McClain saw Colonel Doug Chandler coming off the quartermaster’s porch. “Hey, Sergeant!” called the fort’s new commandant. “You nervous?”

  McClain chuckled. “Maybe just a little, sir.”

  “I have confidence in you. You’ll come through it all right.”

  “Thank you, Colonel.”

  As McClain continued toward the log building with the small steeple on its roof, his thoughts ran to Colonel Ward Lamont. The place wasn’t the same without him. McClain liked Colonel Chandler, but a bond had been molded between Colonel Lamont and him. He looked forward to the day when he would see him again.

  McClain’s attention was suddenly drawn to Captains Jess Adams and Lance Moore, who were coming his way, just passing by the chapel. As they drew up and stopped, McClain smiled. “Good morning, sirs.”

  “And good morning to you, Sergeant,” said Moore.

  Adams grinned slyly. “You got the jitters?”

  McClain chuckled. “Do I look nervous, Captain?”

  “Yes, you do. But then the wedding is at three o’clock. You’ve got less than five hours.”

  McClain pulled at an ear. “I assure you, sir, I’ll be fine.”

  “Sure you will,” said Adams. “A soldier who can look in the faces of wild, screeching hostiles with hatred burning in the eyes and guns blazing, and never flinch, will certainly make it through a wedding ceremony.”

  “You going to the chapel now?” said Moore.

  “Mm-hmm. I want to see how the ladies are coming along with the decorations.”

  “Sure. Well, we’ll see you at the wedding.”

  With that, the captains moved on, and McClain entered the chapel. There he found Edith Chandler—wife of the new commandant—and three other officers’ wives putting flowers in vases and baskets and placing them across the front of the chapel’s platform.

  “Good morning, ladies,” he said in a cheerful tone.

  The women returned the greeting, warming him with smiles.

  “It’s looking great,” said McClain. “I sure appreciate what you’re doing to make the place look nice for the ceremony.”

  “We’re happy to do it, Sergeant,” said Edith. “When one of our finest men takes himself a bride, we want to do our part to make the wedding a special one.”

  McClain was about to comment when the door of the chaplain’s office opened at the rear of the building and the sound of voices filled the air. He quickly looked that direction and saw Chaplain Curtis Fremont, his wife Elaine, and Carrie Duncan moving into the small auditorium.

  Carrie ran her appreciative gaze over the flowers and said, “Oh, ladies, the flowers are beautiful! You’ve done a wonderful job.”

  Edith took hold of Carrie’s shoulders. “Sweetie, the flowers will pale in their beauty when the eyes of everybody in the chapel fall on the beautiful bride!”

  Carrie blushed. “You’re very kind.”

  “You’re the first mail order bride I’ve ever met. I think it is so wonderful that you and your husband-to-be found each other that way.”

  McClain stepped up close. “It really is wonderful, Mrs. Chandler. Especially in this instance, because when a man puts an ad in the Eastern newspapers and stipulates that he is seeking a born-again bride, it severely narrows the field. Carl—I mean, Lieutenant Pierson—put ads in a dozen newspapers back East, and Carrie was the only one who responded.”

  “The Lord was good,” said Chaplain Fremont. “He had it all planned.”

  “That’s right,” said Carrie. “The Lord had already chosen Carl and me for each other, so it doesn’t matter that I was the only one who responded.”

  Carrie then turned to McClain with misty eyes and gave him a sisterly embrace. “And you were the willing vessel God used to lead Carl to Jesus. If it wasn’t for your concern for Carl’s eternal destiny and your shining testimony to him, he wouldn’t be a Christian and I wouldn’t be here to become his bride today. Thank you, McClain.”

  The sergeant patted her hand. “I’m honored that the Lord allowed me to bring Carl to Him, Carrie.”

  Chaplain Fremont laid a hand on McClain’s shoulder. “Let me tell you, Carrie, McClain has led several men to Christ in this fort over the years. And I’m glad Carl was one of them. He certainly has been a blessing to me since he got saved.”

  Carrie thumbed a tear from the corner of her eye. “I’m glad, Chaplain. Carl has told me how much both you and McClain have helped him to grow in grace since he became a child of God.”

  Fremont smiled, then looked at McClain. “Is the best man nervous?”

  “I am, sir. I’ve never been best man in a wedding before. But I’ll be fine.”

  Elaine Fremont chuckled. “Well, being best man in this wedding will help prepare you to be the groom in your own wedding, Sergeant.”

  McClain laughed. “I have to find the girl the Lord has picked out for me, first. Now, if I was an officer, I would’ve tried the mail order bride system myself. But since only officers can have their wives in the fort, I guess I’ll have to wait till I’m out of the army before I can start looking for that right girl.”

  Chaplain Fremont’s brow furrowed. “Are you planning on leaving the army soon, Sergeant?”

  McClain started to reply, but his words were cut off by the chapel door opening. A corporal came in and said, “Sergeant Reardon, Lieutenant Pierson sent me over here to tell you that he needs to see you right away.”

  “Must be important,” said McClain.

  The corporal grinned. “Oh, it is, Sergeant. I think he needs you to hold him up. It’s still four hours till the wedding, but he’s really nervous already. You’ll probably have to carry him over here to the chapel for the ceremony.”

  Carrie laughed. “You’d better get over there to him, McClain. I want him here, even if you do have to carry him!”

  On Thursday morning June 5, 1879, Richard Garrett guided the team into the Richmond depot lot under a bright blue Virginia sky and pulled rein. Catching the attention of one of the baggage handlers on the terminal porch, he waved and pointed to the luggage in the back of the wagon. The man wearing the white cap nodded and began pushing his cart that direction.

  Richard hopped down, we
nt around to the other side of the wagon, and helped Laura from the seat. When she was on the ground, he reached up and took hold of Rya’s hand.

  “Thank you, Papa,” she said as he helped her climb down.

  Richard noted the pensive look in her eyes.

  The baggage man drew up with his cart and looked at the trunk and two pieces of luggage in the bed of the wagon. “How many traveling, sir?”

  “Just this young lady,” said Richard, nodding toward Rya.

  “May I see the ticket, please?”

  Rya reached into her purse and produced the ticket. The baggage handler looked at it. “Kansas City.”

  “Yes.”

  He wrote the ticket number on three tags, handed the ticket back to her, and as he tied the tags to the handles of the trunk and luggage, he said, “These pieces will be unloaded by the baggage coach at the Kansas City terminal, miss.”

  Rya thanked him, and walked into the terminal with her parents while the baggage handler was loading her luggage on his cart.

  Richard looked up at the large chalkboard above the ticket windows. “Track number three.”

  As they were heading for the platform that served track number three, they noted that the train was already there. Other baggage handlers were loading luggage into the baggage coach.

  Suddenly a female voice called from the milling crowd, “Rya!”

  Rya turned to see two familiar faces. “Oh! Allie! Lucinda!”

  The young women glanced at Richard and Laura, then Allie said, “I know these are your parents. I remember seeing you with them on graduation night.”

  “Right. Mama, Papa, I want you to meet Allie Gower and Lucinda Locke. They were in my college graduating class.”

  The Garretts greeted the young ladies warmly Rya asked, “Are you meeting someone?”

  “Yes,” said Allie. “We’re here to meet my brother, Ed. He’s coming from Wilmington, Delaware.”

  Noting that only Rya was carrying a small overnight bag, Lucinda asked, “Are you going somewhere?”

  “Yes. This is my train here. It will take me to Kansas City, Missouri.”

  “Did you get a teaching job in Kansas City?” queried Allie.

  “No. Actually, I have a high school teaching job waiting for me in Sacramento, California.”

  “Really?”

  “Uh-huh. When I get to Kansas City, I’ll be taking a short ride to Independence, Missouri, where I’m scheduled to join a wagon train that’s going to California. I have friends there—Roy and Elsa Gibbs—who used to be members of our church in Bowling Green. They’ve invited me to come and live with them in their home.”

  “Well, honey, I’m glad for you,” said Lucinda. “Allie and I haven’t landed our teaching jobs yet. But Rya, why aren’t you traveling by rail all the way to California? Certainly that would be faster and easier than taking a wagon train.”

  “Faster and easier, yes, but not nearly as enjoyable. I’m going on the wagon train because through Professor Wilkes at college, I was hired by the wagon master to teach the children during the three to four months it will take us to get to Sacramento.”

  “That’s a long time,” said Allie. “They tell me it gets awfully dusty on those wagon trains.”

  “Not to mention the threat of wild Indians,” put in Lucinda. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll get scalped, Rya?”

  Laura and Rya exchanged a flicking glance, then Rya said, “I’m not afraid, Lucinda. The men on the wagon trains are all well-armed. And from what I’ve read, few of the wagon trains are ever attacked by the Indians anymore.”

  “So will your wagon train be taking the famous Oregon Trail?” asked Allie.

  “To begin with, yes. We’ll head northwest out of Independence after crossing the Missouri River, and move across the northeast corner of Kansas into Nebraska. We’ll continue across Nebraska, and go all the way across southern Wyoming into Idaho. Not long after we enter Idaho, we’ll come to a fork, where the trail splits in two: the California Trail and the Oregon Trail.”

  “Oh, that’s right,” said Allie. “I remember reading about it. So at that point, your wagon train will take the California Trail.”

  “Mm-hmm. We’ll drop south into Utah, past Salt Lake City, then directly into Nevada. When we’ve covered Nevada, the wagon train will make its way up and over the Sierra Nevada Mountains into California through Placerville, all the way to Sacramento.”

  “Sounds like a long, hard journey,” said Lucinda. “But knowing you, Rya, you’ll be so wrapped up in teaching those children, you won’t even notice the hardships.”

  Rya giggled. “I hope you’ve got that right!”

  The sound of a train chugging in on track number four met their ears.

  “Well,” Allie said, looking that direction, “we’d better go, Lucinda. That’s Ed’s train.”

  Both young ladies wished Rya happiness in California, told the Garretts they were glad to have made their acquaintance, then moved to meet the train on track four.

  Laura set anxious eyes on her daughter. “Honey, you be sure to write us from Independence, so we’ll know you made it there, won’t you?”

  “Of course, Mama.”

  “And we want you to post letters to us from the towns where the wagon train stops to pick up supplies,” said Richard.

  Rya smiled and patted her father’s cheek. “I’ll do that, Papa. I promise.”

  While Rya and her parents were talking on the platform, Jason Lynch guided his horse among the wagons, buggies, surreys, and carriages until he spotted the Garrett wagon. He dismounted beside the wagon and tied his horse to a hitching post.

  Inside the terminal, Laura was having a difficult time containing the tears that were just under the surface.

  Rya took hold of her hand. “Mama, please tell me you’ll be all right.”

  The tears began to run down Laura’s cheeks. “I don’t mean to make this hard for you, sweetheart. It’s just that … well, you’re my youngest child, my baby. Your siblings all live right here in Virginia. It’s a long, long way from Virginia to California. When you were in college, you were only about three hours’ drive away and we got to have you home every weekend. But now, I—”

  “Mama, we’ll be close in our hearts. And you and Papa can come see me. We’ve already gone over this, but as I prayed about the offer of the job in Sacramento, I had such peace in my heart that it is the Lord’s will.”

  Laura nodded, wiping tears from her cheeks. “Yes, I know.”

  “We both know you’re following the Lord’s leading, honey,” said Richard. “But it’s still hard to let you go.”

  “I understand, Papa.”

  Laura sniffed. “Part of my problem is that long, arduous journey you’re facing. And … and Lucinda touched on another thing. The Indian danger. I just tremble inside when I think of the possibility of those savages attacking your wagon train.”

  “Mama, the Lord will take care of me. I know you and Papa have prayed that He will. Now we must trust Him to do it.”

  Laura closed her eyes and said, “Dear Lord, it’s so hard to let my baby go so far away. But I know I must step aside and let her try her wings. She’s such a … such a little bird.”

  Rya put her arms around her and hugged her tight. “Yes, Mama, to you I am still just a little bird. But do you remember what Jesus said? ‘Are not five sparrows sold for two farthings, and not one of them is forgotten before God? But even the very hairs of your head are numbered. Fear not therefore: ye are of more value than many sparrows.’ ”

  Laura held her daughter equally tight. “Thank You, Lord, for Your wonderful Word and the way it calms our fears.”

  Richard looked on, having his own problem with keeping his composure.

  Armed with the great peace that only the Saviour can give, Laura eased back so she could look into her daughter’s eyes. “Rya, what a wonderful experience this will be for you. Just don’t forget to write us often, even after you get to Sacramento, so your papa and I
can share this new adventure in your life.”

  Rya let her gaze go to her father, then looked once again at her mother. “Mama, my heart will always be here with you and Papa, and when I am settled in Sacramento, I will write at least once a week and keep you posted on what’s happening in my life.”

  Though Rya kept it concealed, her own heart was wavering between the excitement of the future that lay ahead of her in California and the homesickness that was already beginning to grip her.

  Suddenly, Rya and her mother were startled to hear Richard’s voice cut like a knife as he said sharply, “What are you doing here?”

  Still hanging onto each other, they turned to see Jason Lynch boldly facing Richard. “I came to see Rya before she leaves for Sacramento.”

  Rya felt a pain lance through her midsection. It caused her to flinch a bit, and Laura felt it. Her brow furrowed as she looked at Rya.

  Richard’s voice was tight but controlled as he said to Jason, “How did you find out she was going to Sacramento?”

  “I happened to be in Bowling Green yesterday, and ran into your neighbors, the Scullys. They told me that Rya was taking the morning train to Kansas City today, then was joining a wagon train to travel all the way to Sacramento. They said she has a job teaching at the Sacramento High School. I just wanted to see her before she left.”

  Richard regarded Jason. “All right. You’ve seen her. Now you can go.”

  Jason licked his lips, looking as if he was going to say something caustic, but instead, he set his eyes on Rya, gave her a slanted smile, then quietly walked away, into the crowd.

  Richard stared after him with disgust. His attention was brought back to Rya when she bent over, her hand going to her midsection.

  “Honey, is it that same pain you’ve been having?”

  Rya pressed fingers against the spot and nodded. “Yes, Mama. But it’s easing up. I’ll be fine in a few minutes.”

  “Honey,” said Laura, “maybe we’d better take you to the doctor like I wanted to last week. If he says it’s nothing serious, you can take tomorrow’s train. You could still make it to Independence in time to join the wagon train.”