“Follow your heart. That’s all I have to say, just follow your heart.”
Lucy wouldn’t even try to pretend she didn’t know what Hannah meant. “Perhaps I will.” There was a long pause. “I absolutely will.”
Chapter 19
Lucy’s opinion of Abner sank to new depths as they traveled the six hundred mile stretch from Fort Hall to the Great Basin of the Humboldt River. She wanted to cringe every time she heard his voice, always irritated since his accident. Granted, losing a limb was a terrible thing, but his constant moaning and complaining were a trial to everyone, Lucy most of all. It didn’t help that—aside from taking the reins and driving the oxen every now and then—he’d become totally useless, never lifting a finger to help. She was responsible for all the work now, and each long day included yoking and driving the oxen, caring for the baby, setting up the camp, repairing the wagon, collecting firewood, and doing the cooking. Only the helping hands of others in the train made her miserable situation bearable.
If she thought her plight couldn’t possibly get any worse, she was in for an unpleasant surprise. The most brutal part of the journey began when the California-bound party headed out over the treeless, alkaline region of the Great Basin of the Humboldt. By the time they reached the halfway mark, food and water were scarce. Wagons broke down, and the oxen, deprived of food and water, were in such sad shape they hadn’t strength left to pull. For days the struggling party followed a pathetic trail of cherished belongings left behind by the unfortunate souls who traveled before them. Chairs, tables, bedsteads, mattresses—every article of housekeeping. Clothes, family pictures, all tossed overboard as people tried to lighten their load. Lucy saw many deserted wagons, too, and dead animals.
Now it was their turn. When two of their thirsty, half-starved oxen died, Abner decreed they must lighten the loads in both wagons, causing Lucy to grieve for the loss of her precious family pictures, which must now be left to rot in the sand. She found little consolation in knowing she wasn’t the only one. Families all around them were tossing their precious possessions over the side.
“I never dreamed I’d be doing this.”
Cordelia Benton carried her tea service to the side of the trail and lovingly placed it atop the alkaline dust. “ I do believe Grandmother Benton would roll over in her grave if she could see her magnificent sterling silver tea service just tossed away like trash in the middle of the desert.”
Lucy nodded in sympathy. “It’s terrible, but we have no choice.”
Charlie Dawes rode up. “It don’t get any easier, does it?” Face covered with dust and sweat, he halted his hoof-sore horse by the side of the trail, removed his hat, and swiped his arm across his forehead. “Nary a drop of water nor a spear of grass since we started across.” He surveyed the never-ending landscape of rock, sand, mesquite, and cactus, stretching out desolate and bleak beneath the blazing sun. Ahead, the wagon train barely moved. Since dawn, two of the Benton’s oxen had died, leaving Cordelia no alternative but to lighten the load.
As Charlie rode away, Chad stuck his head out the back of the Benton’s wagon. “Hey, Ma, what about this barrel of dishes?”
For an agonizing moment, Cordelia squeezed her eyes shut. “Yes, they’ve got to go.” She watched her son lift the barrel to the back edge of the wagon, then gasped in alarm. “Chadwick, you be careful with Grandmother Benton’s French Haviland china!”
“What for?” Chad hoisted the barrel over the edge and let go. It crashed to the ground, accompanied by the loud, sickening sound of breaking dishes.
“Oh, dear Lord!” Cordelia looked toward the sky. I’m so sorry, Grandmother Benton.”
“She understands.” Lucy placed a comforting hand on Cordelia’s shoulder. “I know how it hurts, but the best we can do is put our former lives behind us and carry on.” She barely believed her own brave words.
Cordelia wiped away a tear and stood tall. “We’re going to make it, never you fear. We’ll make Nathaniel proud.”
Chad appeared at his mother’s elbow. “Not if we try to farm. I want to go to the gold fields.”
“Perhaps we will.”
“You mean you’re not going to farm?” The last Lucy heard, her friend from the South planned to carry out her husband’s wish to acquire farmland in California.
“I’ve decided I’d make a very poor farmer. Besides, from what I’ve heard, there’s money to be made in the mining towns, and not just from panning for gold.”
Bright-eyed Chad spoke. “We’ll be passing by lots of mining towns before we get to Sacramento. Like Hangtown. That’s where I really want to go. You should tell Mister Schneider.”
Lucy shook her head. “I don’t know if I can even bring it up. Mister Schneider is ... a bit difficult to deal with since his accident.”
“A bit difficult?” Cordelia looked ahead to where Abner’s wagon slowly rolled along the trail. “He’s impossible, and you know it. Is he actually driving the oxen today?”
“Yes. He does ... occasionally.”
“Hmmph!” Cordelia raised a skeptical eyebrow. “That’s the least he can do. I know he can’t walk, but in my opinion, he could contribute something more than just lying around reading his Bible and complaining. Furthermore ... oh, dear, I should keep my mouth shut.”
“I don’t know why. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
Cordelia appeared encouraged. “Why don’t you leave Abner and come with us? You know very well he won’t be able to farm, much as he might claim otherwise. Certainly not in his present condition, and it doesn’t look as if he’s going to get any better. Besides ...” Cordelia hesitated, as if choosing her words carefully. “Far be it from me to pry, but you’re not married to the man. Why must you stay with him, anyway? I don’t understand.”
Other than Clint and Hannah, Lucy hadn’t revealed Abner’s hold on her. But why not? In his pitiful condition, what could he do to her now? “After Jacob died, Abner made it clear that Noah was legally his and he’d never give him up. What could I do? I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving that beautiful child in his hands. Now, with Martha’s baby, it’s even worse. I love that child like my own. Just as with Noah, I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her with that awful man.”
Cordelia nodded. “So that’s it. Well, I always had the feeling he had a hold on you. It’s different now, isn’t it? He’s weak and helpless, and it’s his own stupid fault, as far as I can see. You should no longer feel obligated to him in any way, even if he is your brother-in-law.”
“I don’t. In fact, I’ve decided that as soon as we reach California, I shall leave Abner and strike out on my own.” Lucy felt a swell of strength, just hearing her own words.
“What about Amy?”
“She comes with me. If Abner objects, I have only to point out he can hardly take care of himself now, so how could he possibly take care of a baby? Why would he want to?”
Cordelia applauded. “Good for you! I don’t wish to snoop, but can you afford it?”
Lucy thought of the bag of coins at the bottom of the flour barrel. What a comfort, knowing they were there. “Jacob didn’t leave me penniless, I’m happy to say.”
“Then that’s wonderful news, and I’m so glad to hear it.” Cordelia turned to her son. “Come on, Chad. Let’s see what other priceless heirlooms we can toss over the side.”
After they left, Lucy walked on, reflecting that never in her life had she felt so weary. There were times when she could hardly put one foot ahead of the other. No sense complaining—everyone felt exactly the same way. She must look a sight. If only her fancy friends in Boston could see her now in her faded, tattered clothes, limping because her feet were blistered from walking over the burning sand and flint rocks. Well, one good thing ...
She ran a quick hand over her trim waist and the hard, flat muscles of her abdomen. Her figure had never been so trim. Despite her ragged appearance, she knew Clint had noticed. She’d seen the admiration in his eyes.
“
Good afternoon. Out for your daily stroll?”
It was Clint, coming up beside her on foot, leading his Appaloosa. As usual, her heart lifted just knowing he was near. “Good afternoon. Not riding today?”
He fell in step beside her. “Paint’s not up to it. I won’t ride again until we’re through the desert.”
They walked in companionable silence for a while, their steps matching the train’s slow pace. “Everything all right with you today?”
The deep caring she heard in his voice made her want to cry out, “No, everything’s not all right because I can’t have you.”
Agnes was right. Lucy longed for Clint, so much so that there were nights, exhausted though she was, that she lay awake and yearned with all her heart and soul to be in his arms. She almost wished they’d never made love in the first place. Then she wouldn’t know what she was missing. Now that she knew what “lovesick” meant. Her desire for Clint seemed to deepen each day, to the point she could hardly act like a good, well-brought-up Christian woman was supposed to act. In fact, if he touched her right now, she suspected she’d fall at his feet in complete surrender, in front of God, Abner, Agnes, and everyone else.
“I’m doing just fine today, and the baby, too. She’s asleep in the wagon.” She reached to wipe the dampness from her brow. “I’m such a mess.”
He threw her a glance. It was quick, but not so quick she didn’t catch the passion in his warm brown eyes. “Even covered in dust you look good to me.”
“Thanks, I think.” She smiled and trudged on. “Will we ever get there?”
“Two more days and we’ll be out of the desert. Then a couple days more and we’ll get to Truckee.”
“What an odd name.”
“It’s named after a friendly Piute Indian guide with a name that sounded like ‘Tro-kay.’ The white men dubbed him ‘Truckee,’ and the name stuck.”
“Is it nice there?”
“You’re going to love it. Think of tall pine trees ... fresh mountain air ... a river of clear water.”
“What heaven! I can think of no greater pleasure on earth than to be able to wash all over.”
“There will be plenty of fresh game, too, as well as fish from the lake, and ...” He hesitated. “Truckee will be a place where we can have some privacy and talk.”
Her heart did a flip flop. Privacy! She and Clint could be alone. “What will we talk about?”
He cast a piercing gaze. “You know what we’ll talk about.”
“You mean Abner.”
“You can’t stay with that man. We’ll talk when we get to Truckee.”
Her heart swelled with hope. Could she dare dream she and Clint could be together? He didn’t want to talk now. Well, she could wait. After all, what did a few more days matter? They walked another dozen steps before she felt enough in control to venture a change of subject. “Chad says he wants to go to a place called Hangtown.”
“Not a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s a rough, tough, lawless town where they’ll hang a man for so much as spitting on the sidewalk.”
“You’ve been there?”
“Yes. I won’t be going back, though.”
“Lucy, come here!”
Abner. She hadn’t noticed, but the train had stopped and they’d come abreast of his wagon. “I must go.”
Anger flashed in Clint’s eyes. “I’d like to kick his teeth in when he yells at you like that.”
“But you won’t,” she softly replied. “Good day. Nice chatting with you.”
When she got to the wagon, Abner glowered down at her. “Come and drive these oxen. My leg hurts, and I’m tired.”
“Of course.” If there was one thing she’d learned in dealing with Abner these days, it was patience. She climbed to the wagon seat, picked up the reins, and cracked the whip. Had there ever been a time when she thought driving the oxen would be fun? Now she could holler “Gee! Haw!” and the other commands with the best of them, but she’d long since learned driving a team of oxen was a lot of sweaty hard work. “I see no reason why you can’t help more, at least drive the oxen.”
Abner rubbed the remains of his leg, now a pitiful stump covered by his pinned-up pant leg. “Can’t you see God has seen fit to make me a cripple? If God wanted me to—”
“Oh, be quiet.” Patience be damned. “I don’t want to hear about God from you.” She took a good look at her brother-in-law. Since the accident, his body had grown slack, his shoulders slumped. His beard looked like a rat’s nest, it was so unkempt. He was more to be pitied than anything else, and she shouldn’t argue with him. “Just go lie down.”
Without a shred of remorse, she picked up the reins. She didn’t care she’d let her disgust show when she spoke to Abner. She didn’t want to think about him. All she wanted to think about was Clint. She cracked the whip again, her mind reeling with all that had been left unsaid between them.
She could hardly wait to get to Truckee.
For days, tortured by thirst and hunger, the train slogged through the barren desert until one day, around noon, Lucy sighted a shimmering dark green line of cottonwoods on the far horizon. Soon the thirsty oxen and cattle scented the proximity of water. They became so maddened that to prevent the teams from stampeding and wrecking the wagons, Clint and Charlie called, “Truckee River ahead! Everyone get those teams unhitched! Let ’em go!”
The crazed animals rushed pell-mell for the water. The thirsty humans, Lucy among them, followed close behind.
When Lucy reached the river, she pulled her boots off, waded in, and joyfully splashed around. Cupping her hands together, she scooped up the precious liquid and drank until she’d had her fill, letting it dribble down her chin. Ah, water! She’d never take it for granted again.
The low spirits of the exhausted, trail-worn party picked up when William Applegate and the council decided they’d stay two whole days in the beautiful mountain setting by the side of the Truckee River where there was plenty of water, lush grass, and an abundance of game. Lucy rejoiced along with the rest, then went to work. Starting with the baby, she washed practically everything in sight, including herself and her clothes. She also washed Abner’s clothes, the dusty wagons, and everything inside that wasn’t nailed down. What an exquisite feeling to be clean again!
That evening, for the first time since they started the trek across the desert, members of the wagon train gathered around a campfire. In a buoyant mood, they chatted, danced, and listened to Erasmus Butler play his fiddle.
Lucy heard the music from her wagon. Anxious to join in the fun, she laid Amy in her tiny bed—a box she’d soon outgrow, but fine for now. With a surge of affection, she looked down at the child. What a good baby she was. Amy might have been born early, but far as Lucy could see, she was perfect in every way. She didn’t even cry much. At nearly two months old, she gurgled happily and showed the beginnings of a smile.
Lucy carried Amy, box and all, to the Applegates’ wagon where the oldest girl, Jessie, had volunteered to watch the little ones. From there she walked a fair distance to Abner’s wagon. In accordance with his new custom, he’d parked amidst the trees on the far perimeter of the campsite, isolating himself as far from the others as he could get. She found him sitting outside his wagon reading his Bible by lantern light.
“I’m going to join everyone at the campfire. Want to come along? There’s singing and dancing, just what we need after what we’ve been through.” She laughed to herself, wondering why she was being so kind to this horrible man. It all came down to pity, she supposed, inspired by a gentle upbringing that emphasized kindness and compassion. Not that anything she said would matter. She knew her brother-in-law would decline. He could manage well enough on crutches now, but since the accident, he had avoided human contact, much preferring to sit beside his wagon, read the Scriptures, and feel sorry for himself.
Abner looked up from his Bible and glared. “Dancing is a sin.”
“Nowhere in
the Bible does it say dancing is a sin.”
“ ‘Thessalonians five, Verse twenty-two: ‘Abstain from all appearance of evil.’ ”
“I hardly think ...” What was the use? Why waste her breath? She could move a mountain more easily than she could change her brother-in-law’s mind.
“What have you done with the baby?” Abner asked.
“Amy’s quite safe with the Applegates.”
“Then I suppose I can’t stop you.”
Why had she bothered? She might have known he’d throw up the same old obstacles when he had no right to stop her from doing anything she pleased. She’d grown thoroughly sick of Abner’s constant negative attitude, especially since he’d put all the work on her since his accident. She wouldn’t let him spoil her evening. She’d see Clint tonight, and nothing would stop her. She smoothed her blue muslin dress. Today she’d patched it, and it didn’t look too bad. She touched her hair. Newly washed, it fell prettily over her shoulders. “Goodnight.”
“Mind you’re not gone long.”
“I’m not your wife. It’s not your place to tell me what to do.”
He seemed not to have heard. “Stay away from Clint.” His voice was harsh.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Oh, yes you do.” Abner’s eyes were lethally calm. “You think I don’t see how you lust after him? You think you’re fooling me?”
“I don’t have to listen to you.” She started away.
“You’d better listen to what I have to say.”
Something in his voice made her stop and turn. “What do you mean?”
“I hear your dear friend Cordelia has decided not to farm.”
What was he up to? “That’s right. She and Chad plan to settle in one of the mining towns.”
“So will we.”
She stared at him tongue-tied.
Abner smiled, a mean kind of smile that conveyed his pleasure he’d shocked her. “Do you actually think I can farm now?”
She gathered her wits together. “I really don’t know. You’ve got your crutches, although I must say, you don’t use them much. You can always find plenty of hired hands—”
Heartbreak Trail Page 24