The Seeds of Change

by Lauraine Snelling

  The man didn’t answer. Forsythia kept picking out hymns on the guitar, a shawl of beauty and comfort that seemed to wrap around them all. The fire sent up sparks when Lilac jabbed a stick in the coals that lay glowing in shades of vermilion, gold, and white hot.

  “Sir, where did you learn to play the harmonica like that?” The stranger wrapped his hands around his coffee cup. “Nothin’ can sound as lonesome as a hobo harp.”

  “From our pa. Our folks taught us that music expanded the mind and soothed the soul.”

  “What else do you play?”

  “Oh, piano, fiddle, harmonica . . . whatever we put our mind to. Or have at hand.” Lark felt a yawn coming on. “Mornin’ comes before dawn, so we better be turning in. Let’s close with Ma’s favorite.”

  Forsythia played a few chords and moved into the beginning. They all sang, full harmony holding up an ocean of sadness, though Lark kept her contralto soft to keep from giving anything away. When a baritone blended in, Lark switched to her harmonica, and they finished after a couple of verses, sliding into humming.

  As usual, Lark closed with a blessing. “And now may the Lord bless us and keep us. May He lift up His countenance upon us, and give us His peace.” And protection, she added in her mind.

  “Thank you for giving a wanderer a cup of coffee, biscuit, and this mighty fine taste of home.” The stranger rose and tossed the dregs from his cup into the fire. He tipped his hat to all of them and faded into the darkness.

  The sisters stood, and each fell to her evening chores. Tonight Forsythia was on duty first, Del on the middle watch, and Lilac the final.

  “Do you think he’ll still be here in the morning?” Lilac asked.

  “We don’t even know his name,” Lark said.

  “Nor he ours. But he did call you sir, so you played your role well.” Del moved the coals around so none were touching. The coffeepot sat off to the side, ready to be filled again first thing.

  Lark checked on the hobbled oxen and horse before she turned in. The oxen were lying down, chewing their cuds, and Starbright nuzzled her chest. She palmed a bit of biscuit she’d stored in her pocket. “You keep watch now, you hear? Let me know if some stranger comes in the night.”

  “All is well?” Forsythia asked when Lark returned to the wagon.

  “So far. You keep that rifle in hand and wake me if you hear anything unusual.”

  “I will. You get some rest.”

  Lark fell asleep praying for the man with no name, for both protection from him and for him. Mostly she woke to any unusual noises, so when Lilac woke her just before dawn, she stretched and felt like she’d had a good night’s rest for a change.

  “All is well,” Lilac said.

  “Glad to hear that.” Lark pulled on her boots and clapped her hat back on her head. Her hair was getting longer again after a few weeks on the trail, but then, that soldier had his tied back with a strip of leather.

  They were on the road again about an hour later, just as the last star faded overhead.

  “No sign of our visitor?” Lark was walking beside the wagon.

  “None. I’m not sure if I’m grateful or sorry.” Del let her sunbonnet fall down her back so she could feel the morning breezes. She’d given up keeping her face and arms anything but tan. “He seemed so sad.” She leaned forward and patted Starbright’s neck.

  “He appreciated good music, so I guess we blessed him too. I know playing like that sure relaxes me.” But I wish we had learned his name. Look at all he’d endured. Made it out of a prison camp only to find the home he’d dreamed of was no more. Why didn’t he stay there to rebuild?

  “Lark,” Lilac asked from the wagon seat, “do you ever dream of what lies ahead of us, the place that we’ll find in Nebraska?”

  “Maybe some, but mostly I think about the next hours, miles, where we’ll find a good place for the night. Having enough food, keeping us safe.” Details, numbers, and plans ran through her mind so fast she had to limit her concentration. “So far, we’ve done well.”

  “I know. I thank our Father every night and whenever I think of Him during the day for the way He is protecting us and providing what we need.”

  “I’ve started a supply list for when we find a store again.” Del tipped her head back, the better to feel the breeze. “I find myself thinking of home rather than what’s ahead. I watered the roses and apple tree starts this morning.”

  “We should send someone ahead to scout for us,” Lark said.

  Lilac, always eager to be on horseback, traded places with Del and rode on ahead.

  As the sun inched farther along its daily arc, both the animals and the humans darkened and dripped with sweat. Del tied a rolled cloth around her head to keep sweat from dripping into her eyes.

  When Starbright trotted back, Lilac announced, “There’s a creek a mile or so ahead with some big trees. It’d make a great stopping place for dinner and watering the animals. A mile or so beyond that is a town, and after that is Columbus. We can turn off and bypass Columbus and pick up the route west again, or we can drive right on through. I remember Anders talking about the Columbus Arsenal. Said he’d heard it’s a mighty busy place. The railroad’s already there, probably because of the military.”

  “Thanks, you did well.” Lark nodded. “We’ll go on through and check at the post office to see if there’s a letter from Anders. We’ll stop where you said, but not for long. I’d like to put Columbus behind us before we stop for the night.”

  The road grew busier the closer they came to Columbus. Farms with fields of hay and grain lined the roads, of which there were several running north and south. Buggies and riders on horses passed them going both ways as they plodded along. The dust hung in the humid air, coating everything so that the sweat running down their skin left streaks. The clouds that blocked the sun held their moisture, killing any breeze.

  While most folks waved, one rider slowed to ride beside them. “Where ya headin’?”

  “Oregon Trail.” Lark, now riding Starbright, answered for them.

  “Got a ways to go, that’s for sure. You lookin’ for work? There’s plenty goin’ on here, what with the building of the arsenal this side of town. Government orders, ya know.”

  “Why now, when the war is over?”

  “Troops still head out, and there’s people movin’ west like you folk. They’re buying rifles but not paying much.”

  “Thanks for the information.” Lark nodded a farewell and urged her mare forward. Getting out of Ohio was paramount. Especially since the railroad made travel this far easy and thus even more dangerous.

  What if they’d been so careful for nothing? The thought tensed her shoulders. Keep your eyes on Independence. “I think I’ll go on ahead and find the post office,” she told Forsythia.

  Nudging Starbright into a trot, she pulled away from the others. Perhaps she should have sent Forsythia ahead, but her sister didn’t like riding in public without a sidesaddle.

  Lark found the post office without difficulty, and after wrapping Starbright’s reins around the porch railing, she paused to read the wanted posters on the wall. Folks asking after boys who had gone off to war and so far not returned. Most probably never would. Thinking of the young man who’d sat with them the night before, Lark shot a thank-you heavenward that she had been able to bring Anders home.

  “After you, ma’am.” She nodded to the older woman who came up behind her as she stepped toward the post office door, tipping her hat at the same time.

  “Thank you, young man.” The woman fluttered her fan, and the tiny breeze that passed over her shoulder made Lark wish for the one she used to have at home. It was a shame they hadn’t put a couple in the wagon. They wouldn’t have taken up much room.

  When it came her turn, she nodded at the woman behind the counter. “You have any mail for the Jimsons?”

  “I’ll look and see. Might take a minute or two.”

  Lark waited, listening to the conversation of the two ladie
s behind her. “Blue uniforms—that’s all we see around here anymore. This is far worse than during the war.”

  “It’s not safe to travel these roads at all.”

  Lark picked up the letter slid across the wooden counter to her. Anders had kept his word. “Thank you, ma’am. Lord bless you.”

  She almost paused in shock that she had said that. All because she was so thrilled to see her brother’s handwriting.

  She stepped to the side. “Excuse me, please.” She tipped her hat to the two gossipers. “Thank you for the warning.” She strode out of the post office, their tittering following her through the door.

  When she caught up with the wagon, Lark waved the letter. “We’ll read it when we stop for the night, so keep your eyes peeled for a possible spot. I’ll scout ahead.”

  Dusk had fallen, drawing the moisture from the soil to create wispy bits of fog, when they finally turned off the westbound road to set up camp along the banks of the Scioto River. The animals set to grazing as soon as they were hobbled, only pausing when led down a gentle slope to the river. Starbright drank, then raised her head, ears pointing at something across the water.

  “What do you see, girl?” Lark stared too.

  “Something is bothering her,” Lilac said softly. The horse dropped her head and drank again. Lilac guided the oxen from standing knee-deep in the water back up the bank so they could graze where the grass was thick. “Did you see anything?” she asked Lark when she brought the horse to join the cattle.

  “No.” But Lark’s scalp still prickled.

  8

  A scream shattered the night chorus.

  Forsythia rolled to her feet before the scream ended abruptly. Lark was up before her, gun poised. Lark ratcheted a shell into the chamber and then eased around the back of the wagon without making a sound. Forsythia stood back in the shadows, knife in hand.

  They both froze and held their breath in order to hear where the sounds were coming from. Scuffling and a grunt told them where to go. Starbright snorted, then screamed.

  Lark motioned Forsythia to go around one way while she went the other, stopping behind a tree. Another grunt and an expletive.

  Forsythia rounded the front of the wagon to see Del in the moonlight, one man trying to hold on to her as she slammed an elbow into his stomach and kicked him in the shins. A second ruffian was struggling to bring the mare under control, but Starbright reared and jerked him off his feet.

  Lark stepped out from her cover, gun cocked and aimed. “Let her go.”

  A string of cuss words answered her.

  “I said let her go.”

  “You drop that gun, or I’ll kill her. It won’t take much—just a slice from ear to ear or a quick snap. Less blood that way.” Moonlight glinted off the blade of a knife. “Just give us that there horse and a steer to butcher, and we’ll be on our way.”

  Lark nodded and started to lower the gun.

  “That’s right.” The man chuckled. “Now give my friend a hand with the mare there. Meanwhile I’ll bring this little filly under control.” He grabbed Del tighter around the neck and started to drag her toward the brush.

  God, help me. Forsythia let her knife fly.

  The man dragging Del grunted and stumbled forward, pulling her to the ground with him.

  The other robber let go of Starbright and faded back into the woods.

  “Get off me, you worthless piece of . . .” Del struggled, trying to push the man away.

  Forsythia rushed forward. Lark helped pull the body off Del so she could stand up.

  “What happened?” Del wiped tears off her face. “I thought for sure he was going to kill me.”

  Lilac arrived. “Forsythia threw her knife.”

  Lark felt for a pulse at the side of the man’s neck. “She sure did. Bull’s-eye.”

  “I-I didn’t mean to kill him.” Shaking, Forsythia fell to her knees.

  Lark jerked the knife out of the man’s back.

  Good Lord, deliver us.

  Lark wiped the knife blade on the man’s filthy and now bloody shirt. “You saved your sister’s life. I didn’t dare shoot for fear of hitting Del.” She gathered the sisters into her arms.

  “I went over to see what was bothering Starbright, and that piece of trash grabbed me. I at least screamed before he got his hand over my mouth. He nearly suffocated me.” Del dug in her pocket for a handkerchief and blew her nose, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Forsythia, you saved my life.”

  Forsythia leaned against Lark, Lilac rubbing her back. “I-I killed a man, a human being.”

  “You nailed him right between the shoulder blades.”

  “All I could think—he was killing my sister.”

  “They thought they could sneak in, steal our horse, and be gone before anyone noticed. After all, a woman was the only guard.” Lilac hugged Forsythia. “They sure underestimated us.”

  “What are we going to do with the body?” Del shuddered again.

  “We’re going to take his knife, see if he has a pistol or any money. Then we’ll drag him into the woods and let the animals take care of the rest.” Lark set her jaw.

  “You don’t think we should bury him?” Lilac asked, her eyes wide.

  “No. This might not be the Christian way, but that other man might return and bring friends, so we can’t take the time. We’ll do what I said, then yoke the oxen, eat something, and be on our way. I think we should start praying for another wagon to travel with. We won this time, but there’s safety in numbers.”

  “But I killed him. Pa would be horrified.” Forsythia couldn’t stop her hands from trembling. Hands that had just taken a human life.

  “He’s the one who taught you to throw a knife,” Lark said.

  “I know, but the Bible says ‘thou shalt not kill.’”

  “True, but the Israelites went to war, and God backed them up. In fact, He fought their battles for them. I believe He was right here protecting us.”

  “You really believe that?” Forsythia breathed a bit easier. Maybe there was hope for her after all.

  They all stared down at the body. Confederate pants, blue Union shirt, hat of no account, and boots that might have been stolen, since a bit of shine remained. Lark dropped to her knees by the body and handed Forsythia the knife. Flinching a bit, Lark dug into the man’s pockets, pulling out several coins. The pistol stuck in his pants she handed to Del, then unbuckled his belt that held ammunition and gave her that too. A sheath with another knife was strapped to one calf and hidden in his boot. Patting his chest, she found a small leather bag on a rawhide loop. Inside hid a gold piece, probably stolen. The back pockets yielded a filthy rag. The knife in one boot made her check the other. Lark shook her head at several bills folded over each other. Confederate money, worthless now.

  “Isn’t this stealing?” Lilac asked.

  “Could be called that on one hand, but we can use it better than some coyote. If his buddy comes back, you can be sure I don’t want him to have this. It’s all stolen anyway, I suspect.”

  “I have a thought,” Del said. “Since he can no longer use his boots, what if we pulled them off and left them someplace others might find them? We could leave the gold piece in there too.”

  “Good idea. Come on, let’s drag him out of here and pull off his boots where we leave the body. Boots were priceless during the war, and these still have a lot of use in them.”

  Huffing and puffing, they dragged the body to a willow thicket by the river.

  “Let’s at least say a prayer over him.” Forsythia shuddered again. “It’s thanks to me he didn’t have time to repent and ask God’s mercy for himself.”

  Lark removed her hat and said a brief prayer. Then they left the body there, Lilac carrying the boots back to the wagon.

  By the time dawn drew a faint line of yellow across the horizon, they were on the road again. As the sun shot higher in the sky, dark clouds formed in the west. A wind kicked up, lashing the trees along the road.
<
br />   “Go on ahead and see if there might be somewhere for us to get out of the storm,” Lark told Forsythia. “But hurry back. This storm looks to be right fierce.”

  Forsythia nodded and nudged Starbright with her heels. Fat drops were kicking up puffs of dust on the road by the time she rode back. “There’s a big grove of pine trees up ahead. That should offer us some protection.”

  Lilac handed out slickers from the back of the wagon just in time for the downpour to hit, drenching them all.

  Forsythia arranged her slicker to cover the saddle, too, and huddled into it. That pine grove couldn’t come soon enough. The temperature was dropping as the wind whipped the trees on both sides of the road. At least they had dry firewood if they needed to camp in the grove.

  After they’d huddled under the pine trees for nearly an hour, the lightning and thunder passed over them, and since it looked like the rain might keep up, they pulled back onto the road and trudged westward through puddles and running creeks, mud and rainwater slowing them down even more.

  The rain had slackened to mist by midafternoon when they paused at a creek that was striving to become a river. It didn’t look terribly deep, but it was wide enough to cause consternation.

  “How deep?” Del asked from the driver’s seat.

  “Sythia, ride through it and see. We know the wagon will float, since we sealed all the seams before we left home. But if waiting overnight might make it safer, we can do that.” Lark looked toward the west, where the sun had managed to poke a few holes in the cloud cover, stabbing light streams to brighten the land.

  Forsythia guided Starbright into the creek. Cool water nearly reached the horse’s belly until she slipped in a hole in the middle and struggled to get her footing again, the current trying to push them downstream. Forsythia kept the reins tight to help keep her mount’s head up. Starbright shook when they reached the other side, making her rider laugh. It was good to laugh again after last night.

  “Thank you, God,” muttered Del. “Stay out of that hole in the middle, and we should be okay.”

  Using her walking stick as a probe, Lark kept up-creek and beckoned to Del to move the oxen into the water. By the time they reached the other side, the wagon had almost floated but settled back as the teams dug in to pull it out.