The Seeds of Change

by Lauraine Snelling

  The mercantile is doing well, even better now that Josephine has taken over the bookkeeping and Climie is our newest employee. You can see her blossoming, as my Josephine says.

  I have heard of some land available in southern Nebraska. A man wants to sell his homestead property near a town called Salton. I do not know the rules for purchasing a homesteaded property, but I am in contact with an attorney in Salton, under whom I served in the war. This is rather convoluted, I know, but we shall see.

  Love from your brother,

  Anders Nielsen

  Lark’s heart sank, despite the news about possible land. Jonah, Jonah, truly you are like your stubborn biblical namesake. Lord, what is it going to take to knock some sense into his head?

  Her sisters sat subdued around the fire.

  “He’ll come back someday, Lark.” Lilac reached out to squeeze her arm.

  “I sure hope so.” Lark opened the letter from Mrs. Herron next. Its warmth and homey bits of family news lifted all their hearts. What a precious connection that had been.

  “Who is the last letter from?” Del asked.

  “No clue.” Lark slit it open and read.

  To Clark “Jimson,”

  I decided I needed to inform you that your little brother got a bit in his cups and bragged about your new last name and where you’re bound for. I felt honored that he shared that bit of information with me, as I feel it is time to move on, perhaps to points west, once the railroad comes through.

  I wanted to remind you that I have not forgotten the way you made a fool of me and left me nearly penniless. I do mean to repay you, however long it may take for our paths to cross again.

  Slate Ringwald

  Lark’s fingers stiffened on the paper, the words settling cold in her belly. What in land sakes had Jonah done now?

  13

  Forward, ho!”

  The call echoed down the wagons pulling into line in their assigned positions.

  Forsythia and Del looked at each other on the wagon seat and nodded. Forsythia murmured their farewell prayer. “We’re on our way. Dear Lord, guide and protect us. Give Mr. Hayes wisdom beyond his usual in his responsibility for all these people and all the things that can happen on this journey. And, Lord, if you will, bring full healing to Alice and her baby.”

  Del added the “amen” and reached over to hug her sister. “It’s going to be long, but I do believe this is God’s plan for us, that He has the perfect place all picked out.”

  Forsythia nodded and pressed back the worry lingering from the letters two nights ago. Surely Ringwald’s missive had just been a threat. He wouldn’t take the time and effort to track them all the way to Nebraska. Nor would he know exactly where they aimed to go—provided Jonah hadn’t also revealed that bit of information. Tension tightened Forsythia’s shoulders again. Oh, little brother, when will you learn wisdom or at least common sense?

  Lord, you are a shield about us. You are our glory and the One who lifts our heads . . . I trust you. I choose to trust you. Peace eased out the tension again. Thank you.

  She looked at Lark, who strode along beside the lead ox. The weight she’d seen there Saturday night seemed gone for the moment. All their burdens had lightened some with the church service yesterday morning, especially when their family had been invited to lead the singing with their instruments. Now, head high, shoulders back, Lark looked the epitome of a man embarking on the next stage of an exciting adventure.

  Lilac rode beside her, Robbie in front. As usual, he was talking to Lilac, to the horse, and shouting at times to his mother, who at least was starting the day sitting in the back of their wagon, which was in front of the Nielsens’. She waved back to her son. The extra day’s rest had strengthened her considerably.

  Del nodded toward the Durhams’ wagon. “That’s thanks to your patient doctoring, you know.”

  At the word doctoring, Forsythia thought about the man driving the end wagon, two behind theirs. Dr. Adam Brownsville. The final addition to the train, and the one Mr. Hayes had been waiting for. She’d noticed his eyes first. While he looked tired, his rich brown eyes held a confidence and warmth that inspired trust immediately. What a gift for a doctor. The rumor was that he was late because he had to bury his wife two days before they reached Independence. Which explained the grief also in his eyes. The poor man. What a heartbreaking start to what they must have hoped would be a new adventure together.

  The sun climbed as the oxen plodded on. After their nooning rest, the heat rose, as did the dust, blowing into their faces in choking clouds from the wagons ahead.

  “I didn’t miss this part when we were on our own.” Del held her handkerchief over her mouth.

  Forsythia coughed and nodded. “I’m going to walk awhile. And check on Alice.” She climbed down.

  Heading forward to the Durhams’ wagon, she waved at Lilac and Robbie on Starbright. They certainly had become an inseparable pair.

  She paused beside Thomas Durham, who walked beside his oxen. “How is Alice?”

  He shook his head. “Not so good.”

  Alarm gripped her. She climbed into the back of the wagon where Alice lay, eyes closed, one hand resting on her mound of belly. “Alice?” Forsythia stroked her hair. “How are you doing?”

  Alice’s eyes fluttered open, and she gave a faint smile. “Fine. A little weak.”

  Forsythia breathed a bit easier. Perhaps Mr. Durham was overly worried. But when she felt Alice’s pulse, the thready rhythm concerned her. “Have you eaten?”

  “A little gruel.”

  “We need to get some more nourishment into you.” Forsythia couldn’t cook anything, not until the wagons stopped for the night. If only they had milk. Perhaps one of the other families who had brought a milk cow might spare some. “I’ll be back.”

  Hurrying, she found her way to Lark, who was leading Starbright and visiting with the husband of the family behind them. Del had taken over droving the oxen, while Lilac sat with Robbie on their wagon seat.

  “Clark,” Forsythia interrupted when she could, “I’m sorry, but Mrs. Durham has weakened. Do you know of any families with a milk cow?”

  “Saw one three wagons ahead,” the man Lark had been talking with said. “They might be glad to share.”

  “Thank you.”

  Half an hour later, Forsythia climbed back into the Durhams’ wagon with a cup of fresh milk, one of their own eggs stirred into it with a little sugar. “Alice, see if you can drink this. It’ll give you strength.”

  “Strength . . . I need.” Alice smiled and tried to lift her head. “Especially when this little one comes along.”

  “We’re going to have you strong and well before then.” Forsythia propped her up, but Alice sagged on the pillows. Dear Lord, please. On a second try, they got her settled, and Alice drank half the concoction before turning her head away.

  “No more.” She was asleep by the time Forsythia climbed down from the wagon.

  “How is she?” Mr. Durham hung back from his oxen.

  “I got some nourishment into her.” Forsythia rolled her lips together. “But you’re right—she’s weaker.”

  He said nothing, but the misery in his eyes cut to her heart.

  Lord, show us what to do. The dysentery seems better, and no one else has gotten sick. So what is wrong?

  As night fell, the company circled the wagons and set the animals free to graze within. Ephraim Hayes gathered the heads of households for another meeting, though anyone else was free to join this time. After making sure Alice drank the remainder of the milk, Forsythia went with Lark while Del and Lilac started supper.

  “We made a good start today, folks. Covered near twenty miles. We gotta do that every day, at least, if we’re going to make it over those Rockies before winter.”

  Murmurs and nods of agreement.

  “I want to introduce a new member of our train who, due to unfortunate circumstances, was unable to be present at our first meeting. I know we’re all glad to
have a doctor around. Dr. Adam Brownsville is traveling with his nephew, Jesse. Please make these gentlemen welcome.”

  Forsythia craned her neck to catch another glimpse of the kind-eyed doctor and the young man with him. Jesse had a gentle face and spoke with a stutter. He looked with adoring trust at his uncle.

  Mr. Hayes dismissed the meeting, and the group broke up to visit and drift back to their cookfires.

  Forsythia touched Lark’s sleeve. “I’m going to talk to Dr. Brownsville, ask him about Alice.”

  “Good idea.”

  She had to wait for several men to finish talking with the doctor and his nephew, but at last Dr. Brownsville turned to her.

  “Forgive me, miss. Did you wish to speak with me?”

  “Yes.” Forsythia held out her hand to meet his warm, quick grip. “First, let me say how terribly sorry I was to hear about your wife.” Empathy gripped her chest again with the words. She knew the pain of losing your beloved.

  “Thank you.” Lines of grief bracketed his eyes, yet he smiled beneath his neatly trimmed brown beard. “And you are?”

  “Oh, I beg your pardon.” Forsythia’s scalp heated. “Miss Forsythia Nielsen. I’m traveling with my sisters—and brother Clark.” She nodded across the clearing at Lark. The lie caught on her tongue, but she pushed the discomfort away. This way was best under the circumstances, they’d all agreed.

  “And you wished to ask me . . . ?”

  “Yes.” Why was she scattered all of a sudden? “The family in the wagon in front of ours—the wife is ill. We’ve been nursing her as best we can since we found them a week ago, but she’s growing weaker. At first it was dysentery, we thought, but now I’m not sure. And she’s pregnant, over seven months along, as best we can figure.”

  “I see.” The doctor frowned. “Might I come take a look at her? Would she and her husband be willing?”

  “I’m sure they would.” Relief flooded her. What a gift to have a doctor in this train. “Would you like to follow me now?”

  “Certainly. Just let me explain to Jesse.”

  A moment later, Dr. Brownsville returned, bag in hand. He smiled at Forsythia. “Ready?”

  “He seems a nice young man, your nephew.” She led the way, skirting darkened wagons and firelight. Oxen lay resting, chewing their cud after the labors of the day.

  “He is. He lost his parents years ago and has been passed from one part of the family to another, finally landing with me. I hope this journey will be a good, fresh start for him. He’s all the family I have now.”

  Forsythia fell silent, honoring his grief. Only a few days, so fresh. How many more would be buried from this wagon train before they reached their destinations? She pushed away the morbid thought.

  “Here we are.”

  Thomas stooped near the Durhams’ fire, clumsily tidying up from supper. Robbie sat on the ground near him, whining sleepily. Poor little boy, it was past time he was in bed. Alice, of course, was too weak to do anything about it, and Thomas seemed unable.

  Forsythia cleared her throat. “Mr. Durham, you remember Dr. Brownsville from the meeting? He’s here to take a look at Alice, if you’re willing.”

  “Much obliged.” Durham straightened and came to shake the doctor’s hand. “We don’t know what’s wrong with her. I hope you can help.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” Dr. Brownsville squatted to Robbie’s level. “And who do we have here?”

  The little boy leaned against his father’s leg, a finger in his mouth. “Robbie.” He sniffled and wiped his sleeve across his nose.

  “Would you like me to finish tidying up, Mr. Durham, while the doctor sees to Alice?” Forsythia offered. “That way you can get Robbie to bed.”

  Thomas nodded as if the thought hadn’t occurred to him. “Sure.” He lifted his son and led the doctor to the wagon.

  Forsythia busied herself with the Durhams’ dishes, scouring burned beans from the pot as best she could in the tepid dishwater. Dishes done, she wrung out the cloth and hung it to dry from a hook on the side of the wagon. She shook her head. This family needed help.

  She turned to see the doctor climbing down from the wagon, lantern light from within framing his bearded silhouette against the canvas cover. He alighted with a soft thud on the dirt.

  Forsythia approached him, drying damp hands on her apron. “What do you think?”

  “Hard to say.” The doctor blew out a breath and rubbed his beard. “As you said, no dysentery now, but she is weak and running a slight fever.”

  “That’s not good. What about the baby?”

  “I can hear a heartbeat, fairly strong. We won’t know more until she gives birth—hopefully not for some weeks. She isn’t strong enough now.”

  “Do you see any signs of labor?”

  “She says she’s been having some tightenings, but that’s also normal at this stage.” He shook his head. “All we can do is try to get her strength up with rest and nourishing food. And pray.”

  “Yes.” So he was a praying man. Not a surprise, from what she’d seen of him so far. “I asked the folks ahead with the cow for some milk and whipped it with egg for her today. They said we could have more in the morning.”

  “Good. Crumbling a biscuit and soaking it in the milk might help too.”

  Forsythia nodded. “We’ll try that. Thank you so much, Doctor. I’m very grateful for your input, and I know the Durhams are too.”

  “Sorry not to be of more help. I’ll check in on her as I can, and please keep me informed, Miss Nielsen.” He gave her hand a squeeze, then released it. “They are blessed to have friends like you and your family.”

  Forsythia watched him disappear into the darkness, headed for his wagon. Bless that man, dear Lord, for his kindness. Heal his heart. And please, Father, bring strength and healing to Alice and her little one.

  Durham appeared at her side, lantern in hand. “Robbie’s asleep. Alice too. Doc tell you anything else?”

  “She’s running a slight fever.” Forsythia rubbed her arms against the evening chill. “We need to focus on getting her strength up before the baby comes.”

  “She has to get better.” His voice hollow, Durham extinguished the lantern and hung it from the wagon side. “I don’t think I can live without her.”

  14

  They could do with some fresh meat.

  Lark watched a hawk soaring overhead. It circled lower, then dove for its prey. A rabbit, most likely. This grassy region must be full of them, and the woods by the Kansas River not far away would hold more prey. Someone should organize a hunting party. Wasn’t that the job of the wagon master? When she thought about it, that made sense.

  Lilac pulled Starbright up beside Lark and dismounted. “Want to ride awhile?”

  “Where’s your other half?”

  “Robbie? He found a friend two wagons up.”

  “A week into the journey, and you’re already deserted.” Lark gave her sister a teasing grin.

  Lilac smiled back. “I’m glad for him. You should go see. They’re having so much fun.”

  “I will. I want to speak to the wagon master about a hunting party. Interested?”

  “Sure. Great country for rabbits.” Lilac handed over Starbright’s reins.

  “That’s what I thought.” Lark swung up onto the mare. Trying to skirt the worst of the dust clouds alongside the rows of plodding oxen, she trotted past wagons until she found Mr. Hayes near the front of the train.

  “Morning, sir.” Lark tipped her hat, making sure to keep her voice low. She had to be especially careful about her disguise now that they were surrounded by so many people. “Have you thought about organizing a hunting party?”

  “Already sent a couple out earlier this week.” The wagon master eyed her. “I figured you needed to stick around for your sisters.”

  “I told you all of us could hunt.” Lark fought a surge of irritation. And she’d thought dressing as a man would avoid these prejudices. “Would you mind if I gathered anoth
er?”

  “If you like.” He gestured with a nod. “Take Little Bear with you. He’s a good hand at snares.”

  “So is my little sister.” At Hayes’s raised brow, Lark lifted her chin. “Best hunter in our family, sir.”

  “If you say so. Make sure everyone has returned before dark.”

  Blowing out a breath, Lark rode back to her wagon, stopping to invite a couple of men she recognized along the way. After finding her first interested hunter, she reached the wagon where Robbie had made a friend.

  Sure enough, Robbie perched in the crammed back of the wagon, enthralled in a game of wild horses with a pigtailed, freckle-faced little girl of about four. With a carved wooden animal apiece, the children whinnied and snorted their horses into a corral of wooden crates and barrels.

  “Having fun, Robbie?” She smiled at him. It was nice how little being male or female mattered at that age. Not so for grown-up folk.

  He raised his horse high with a whinny. “Mr. Jesse made us these horses! He said he’d make a cow next.”

  Mr. Jesse? She’d solve that mystery later. “Is your father around, young miss?”

  The little girl nodded hard, flapping her pigtails. “He’s driving our oxen.”

  The father proved eager to join the hunting party.

  Lark stopped to mention the idea to Thomas Durham, but as she’d suspected, he didn’t want to leave Alice. She promised to share the game and headed back to tell Lilac. That made four for their party so far, including her and her sister, five with Little Bear. Maybe she should ask the doctor. She didn’t see him when she stopped at his wagon, but his nephew walked alongside their two span of oxen.

  “Morning. Dr. Brownsville around?” she asked.

  “No, sir—I-I mean, he’s t-tending somebody. Little boy got his toe run over by a w-wagon wheel.”

  “Oh dear.”

  “H-he’ll be all right, my uncle says.” The young man smiled with a warmth that would make anyone forget his stutter.

  “That’s good news. Sorry, tell me your name again?”