The Seeds of Change

by Lauraine Snelling

  Lark grabbed the milk pail and greeted Dr. Brownsville as he approached their campsite. “You didn’t have to do this, you know. Stay here.”

  “Just as you didn’t have to take in these children?” His smile seemed forced. “How is she?”

  “We’re heating some of the broth from the prairie chicken and will see if she can keep it down.” Dr. Brownsville showed concern for all his patients. But was there something different in his care for Forsythia? She wasn’t sure. “Feel free to check on Sythia. I’ve got to milk Buttercup. She’s been carrying on since dawn.”

  Josiah Hobson had graciously agreed to let them buy the cow for a reasonable price. At least they had milk for the baby and the children.

  “Easy, girl.” Lark squatted beside the cow and patted her smooth, tawny side. She grasped the teats, and warm milk hissed into the pail. Right, left, right, left. The familiar rhythm eased the tension from her back and shoulders. Lark leaned her forehead into the cow’s comforting warmth. Lord, all this didn’t come as a surprise to you. But it sure did to us. Guide us, please. And heal Sythia. Leaning back to squint at the morning-gilded sky, she put all her heart into that last bit.

  Birds rose and dipped in a cloud of wings over the waving grasses as she stood, milk frothing in the pail. She patted Buttercup’s side and moved her picket to a fresh grazing area. “Thanks for the good milk.”

  Mikael was squalling for his breakfast. Del jiggled and shushed him on her shoulder.

  “Doctor checking on Sythia?” Lark set down the pail.

  “Mm-hmm. Hush, little one.”

  Lilac dipped up a cupful of the fresh milk and carried it to Del. “Here.”

  “Thanks.” Del poured the milk into the spouted cup Jesse had carved, which looked rather like a small wooden creamer. “This special little cup does help. But I need to figure out a way to tend Mikael and still be able to drive the oxen and do other chores, especially with Sythia ill.”

  “Maybe we can make you a sling out of some of Ma’s fabric. Loop it around your shoulder and chest to keep him close but your hands free.”

  “That’s a good idea.”

  Lark poured the rest of the milk into the freshly scoured milk can. “I think we’ll only travel until we find a good campsite today, someplace with more shade, and then rest. We all need it, Forsythia most of all. Then maybe I can find a farm or something nearby where we can find out how to get to Salton. Could be we’re closer than we think.”

  The doctor appeared from the Durhams’ wagon. “Got that broth ready?”

  “Here it is.” Lilac ladled steaming liquid into a bowl.

  “I’ll take it to her.” Lark took the bowl and added a spoon. “How does she seem to you, Doctor?”

  He hesitated. “She’s awfully weak. And dehydrated. Even if she doesn’t want liquids, we’ll need to try to force them today. It might help to wrap her in wet clothes too.”

  “Really?” Lark raised a brow. She hadn’t heard that one before.

  “The skin can absorb more than you might think.”

  Lark climbed into the wagon, balancing the bowl. “Hey, you.”

  Forsythia’s eyelids fluttered. She tried to smile. “Hey.”

  “I brought you some broth.” Lark laid her hand against her sister’s hot, dry cheek. “Sip.” She tipped the spoon against her lips.

  Forsythia sipped, gagged, and turned her head away. “I can’t.”

  “You’ve got to, Sythia.” Lark forced away the panic that pushed up her throat. I will trust and not be afraid. “I know you don’t want it, but it’s important. Just another sip.”

  Forsythia managed two more spoonfuls, shuddering with the effort.

  “Good girl.” Lark sat back. “We’ll try some water next or more tea.”

  Forsythia seemed to have already fallen back asleep, her face so pale it pinched Lark’s heart. She climbed back down and headed to the campfire where her sisters and the doctor waited.

  “She took some, but not as much as I’d like.” She showed the bowl.

  “We’ll need to try some sort of liquid every hour,” the doctor said. “She’s still losing it with the diarrhea, though it’s not as violent now.”

  Lilac looked up from fashioning a length of linen into a sling. “I’ll soak a nightdress in the creek to put on her as soon as I try this on Del.”

  Del came near, burping little Mikael on her shoulder. “You think this will work?”

  “I don’t see why not. I know immigrant women wear their babies this way, and Indian women, too, I think.” Lilac stood and wrapped the cloth over Del’s shoulder and under her arm, holding the baby firmly in place, then tied the ends on her shoulder. “How does that feel?”

  “Good.” Del adjusted Mikael and tried moving about. “I don’t even have to hold him in place, he’s so secure. Thanks.” The baby blinked from his snug new position against her chest, then yawned and settled to sleep.

  Together Lark and Lilac wrapped Forsythia in the wet nightdress and added a damp sheet, forcing water down her before and after.

  Weary from the ordeal, Lark hupped the oxen on their way, the doctor taking over the Durhams’ ox while Jesse drove their wagon. Lord, I never would have asked Jesse and the doctor to stay with us, but I am grateful.

  The morning sun at their backs, they headed northwest, what she hoped was the general direction of Salton. Once they found a good campsite, she’d see about actually getting there.

  The sun had climbed high and started its descent before Lark spotted a clutch of trees ahead. Water. And shade.

  They pulled into the grove of cottonwoods flanking a bubbling creek. Lark stopped the oxen and drew a long breath. The shade cooled her eyes from the unrelenting prairie sun, and the trees’ heart-shaped leaves rustled and danced overhead.

  Lilac came back from checking the creek. “The water is clear and sweet. Thick cover for deer too. Can I go hunting?”

  “Sounds fine to me.” Lark glanced back at the doctor, who set the brakes on the Durhams’ wagon and then approached.

  “Looks like a good spot.” Dr. Brownsville pushed his hat back and wiped his forehead. “Thinking to stay here a few days?”

  “I think so. Forsythia needs the rest—we all do, really.” Weariness suddenly crashed over Lark like a summer storm. Thank you, Lord, for this place.

  They unyoked the oxen and hobbled them to graze along with Starbright and Buttercup.

  Lark checked on Forsythia again. Still weak but stable. The wet clothes seemed to be keeping her fever at bay also. She managed to get her sister to swallow a little more water and broth.

  Dr. Brownsville lifted the canvas flap and peeked into the wagon. “Let me sit with her awhile. You’re exhausted.”

  “If you’re sure.” Lark climbed down and surveyed their camp. Livestock peacefully grazing, Del watching the napping children on a blanket. Lilac had taken her rifle and Jesse and set off to see what game they could find.

  Maybe Lark could actually lie down herself. She stretched out on the soft grass near the wagon. “He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul. . . .”

  She woke sometime later to Robbie and Sofie’s happy chatter. Yawning, Lark sat up to find the children playing with their wooden animals on the blanket, Del watching them while feeding Mikael nearby.

  “Glad you slept. You needed it.” Del smiled.

  “Guess so.” Lark stood and stretched. “Shall I check on Sythia?”

  “The doctor’s still with her. He doesn’t seem to want to let her out of his sight.”

  She had noticed. She didn’t know whether to be worried or hopeful. Dr. Brownsville seemed like a good man—an excellent one, in fact. Her heart would rejoice for Sythia to find marriage and family after losing her love in the war. But he’d lost his wife so recently . . . wasn’t it too soon?

  Lord, one more thing to trust you with.

  “Look, Sofie. The horsies can eat the grass.” Robbie galloped
his carved steed off the blanket and onto the surrounding meadow.

  Sofie’s wide-eyed gaze never left Robbie. She lifted the figure in her own tiny hand. “Cow?”

  “Sure, cows can eat grass too. Come on.”

  Sofie crawled over and joined her cow with Robbie’s horse.

  “Munch, munch.” Robbie exaggerated his sound effects, making a face. “Munch-munch-munch.”

  A delighted giggle squeaked out of Sofie.

  “She adores him.” Del smiled at the children. “Take the baby for me? I could use a break. And a visit to the necessary—or rather, the bushes.”

  Lark cradled Mikael’s tiny form, warm and fragile. The baby bobbed his head against her chest. “Looking for more milk, little one? Or trying to see the view?” She lifted him to better see their surroundings. Mikael opened his deep blue eyes wide, gazing at the shifting sunlight and shadow in the dancing leaves overhead. Lark pressed a kiss to his downy head, savoring the sweet baby scent.

  “Your sister’s sleeping.” The doctor’s voice surprised her from behind.

  Lark turned, her neck prickling. Would he wonder at her bestowing such a womanly kiss on the baby?

  He gave her a slightly odd look but continued. “Her hydration seems better, and the diarrhea seems less—hard to tell. But we need to start getting more nourishment in her. She’s terribly weak.”

  Robbie ran up and tugged at her trouser leg. “Mr. Clark, I need somethin’ from my wagon.”

  She shook her head. “Sorry, Robbie. We can’t let you or Sofie in there right now. Miss Sythia is sick.”

  “But it’s my wagon.” His mouth turned down. “I want to show Sofie the top Pa gave me.”

  “Sorry, little fellow.” The doctor squatted at Robbie’s level. “You’ll have to wait a few days.”

  “But it’s from my pa.” Without warning, Robbie’s lip trembled, and tears threatened. “I want my pa.”

  “I know you do, son.” The doctor tried to pull Robbie into his arms, but the little boy resisted.

  “I want my ma!” The tears spilled over with a vengeance.

  Sofie, still sitting on the blanket, watched with wide eyes, then let out a sympathetic wail.

  A hard lump in her own throat, Lark shifted the baby and bent to try to comfort Robbie, but he kicked out, arms flailing, then threw himself on the ground with a howl. Del returned and scooped up the sobbing Sofie.

  “What happened?”

  “Not sure—both of them went off all of a sudden. I guess grief hits in waves, even for children.”

  “Of course it does.” Del pressed a kiss to Sofie’s hair, rubbing the little girl’s back.

  Robbie still lay kicking and sobbing on the ground, but his cries gradually lessened. Lark bent to rub his shoulder.

  “I know, Robbie. I know it hurts to lose your pa and ma.” She fought tears herself. They all knew loss in this group. Maybe that was one reason God had chosen them to shelter these little ones. Even if sometimes she felt they didn’t know what they were doing.

  At a shout from the trees, Lark looked up and nudged Robbie. “Look, Lilac and Jesse are back. What do you think they brought?”

  Sniffling, Robbie sat up, then a smile broke through his tears. “Deer?”

  “Looks like it.”

  He swiped his fist across his eyes, then jumped up and took off running. “Lilac!”

  “Hey there, Robbie boy.” She slid off her horse and scooped him up. “Look what we got.” She nodded to the deer slung across Jesse’s saddle.

  Jesse’s gentle face split in a grin. “She g-got it with one shot.”

  Even Sofie’s tears mellowed at the distraction. By the time the sun set behind the trees in a blaze of rose and gold, Lilac, Jesse, and Lark had skinned and quartered the deer. Del cooked some into broth and stew for supper, and they thinly sliced the rest to dry for jerky, winding the meat onto sticks and propping it over the coals.

  “It’s a good thing we’ll be here a few days. The meat will take time to dry.” Lilac wiped her hands. Robbie stuck close to her, not letting her out of his sight.

  That night they sat around the fire, bellies full and grateful, the scent of woodsmoke and drying venison wafting over them. Jesse played animals with the children.

  Del rejoined the circle. “I got Sythia to take some venison broth. Maybe tomorrow we can try a bit of stew, see if she can keep it down.”

  “Try boiling some rice in the broth to start,” the doctor said. “Easier on her stomach.”

  “Good idea. Too bad we don’t have a farm-raised chicken. That would be more tender than wild game.”

  Conversation soon faded into weariness, and the doctor and Jesse headed over to bunk down under their wagon. The sisters spread their bedrolls, and Lilac snuggled Robbie and Sofie under her blankets like two little bear cubs with their mother, her presence seeming to comfort them through the nights.

  “I’ll take the first watch.” Lark poked the fire. Now that they lacked the protection of the whole wagon train, they’d have to take shifts again. “The doctor said he’d take the second.”

  “Wake me for the third, if the baby doesn’t first.” Yawning, Del lay down beside Mikael with a tired chuckle. “But he probably will.”

  Lark leaned her head back and gazed at the sparkling span of stars scattered across the black sky. Much to be thankful for, but much still uncertain. Sythia was still so weak. And tomorrow Lark would need to see if she could find a farm, maybe even a store. They needed some supplies. And where exactly was Salton, anyway? Without a known point of reference or a number of miles to calculate, her mind grappled for solid ground.

  The next day after breakfast, she saddled Starbright and headed out, praying for direction. Surely if she stayed along the creek, civilization would crop up somewhere.

  Riding along the trace, the grass high as Starbright’s belly, her mind took off on adventures of its own, going back to the night their lives fell apart. She could still see the gambler dealing the cards and then staring at her, veins pulsing, as she gathered up the pile of winnings. His threats stayed indelibly etched on her mind. Lord, I have no idea how he would find us so far from home, but . . . she had no doubt he could. If that money meant so much to him. And not just the money, but his pride—far more dangerous.

  She stared out across the grasses rippling in the wind that seemed always to be blowing. It wasn’t the money at all, she knew. It was the horror that a woman had beaten him. Had called him out for cheating, even if not with words. Had she been a man, he might have forgiven her, but she was a woman. And to top it off, she had won fair and square. Surely the news had not gone farther than the limits of Linksburg. After all, who would spread the gossip?

  An image of Deacon Wiesel plastered itself across her mind. Good thing those two didn’t know each other. Get the deacon drunk, and he would blab anything.

  Lark heaved a sigh. “Only you can protect us, Lord.”

  Starbright flicked her ears back and forth.

  Lark leaned forward and patted her neck. “All we have to do today is find a store and the directions to Salton. That’s all.”

  A short while later she saw smoke rising in tendrils over the prairie and followed it to a tar-papered cabin and a spreading farm.

  Thank you, Lord. She reined the mare and called out to a beanstalk of a man hoeing in the cornfield. “Morning, sir. Any general stores around these parts?”

  The man pushed back his battered straw hat. “There’s a little mercantile up that road a piece. Hardly enough to call a town, just the store and a saloon, mostly. But you can get yourself some basic foodstuffs, if that’s what you’re needin’. Where ya headed?”

  “We were on the Oregon Trail, but we’re on our own now. How far is it to Salton?”

  The man whistled. “Good thirty, forty miles north of here.”

  So a three-day journey. Well, at least that gave her some idea. She’d ask more specifics at the store. “Much obliged.”

  “Anytime. We we
re strangers on the trail once too.” The farmer grinned, showing a friendly gap in his teeth. “Anything else I can do for ya?”

  Lark spotted some plump chickens scratching between the chicken coop and the house. “Now that you mention it . . . would you be willing to sell a chicken?”

  Half an hour later, Lark rode into the “town” with a fat young rooster tied to her saddle. She swung down and tied Starbright to the hitching post. Inside, the supplies were simple but well stocked. She bought more beans, cornmeal, and salt to replace what they’d given the Pawnee, and a few treats to tempt Forsythia’s appetite—cheese and some dried apples to stew. Also soap to scrub down the Durhams’ wagon once Sythia grew well enough to leave it. With all the extra laundry, they were running low.

  She and Starbright trotted back into the camp before sunset laden with goods. “Look what I got.” Lark slid off the horse and held out the chicken. Then she stopped short.

  Forsythia reclined on a makeshift pallet by the campfire, wearing a clean, dry nightdress and propped up on pillows against a box. Though her face was still pale, she smiled when she saw Lark and held out her hand.

  “Sythia.” Still clutching the chicken, Lark handed off Starbright to Lilac and fell to her knees beside her sister. “You’re better?” Tears of relief choked her throat.

  “Dr. Brownsville says so.” Forsythia smiled at the quiet, bearded man who sat by her side. “And I feel it, thanks to all of your good care.”

  She said all, but her eyes seemed only for the doctor, who gazed back at her with a look that made Lark swallow.

  Lord, thank you so much that Sythia is better. But what are we going to do about this?

  20

  They’d made it.

  Lark stopped the oxen and heard Del and the doctor do the same behind her with the other wagons. Before them, the late afternoon sun slanted its rays over the growing town of Salton, nestled on a grassy plain along the Salt Creek.

  “Is this it?” Lilac hurried up, pushing back her sunbonnet to see better. The children trailed at her heels.