Walk by Faith

by Rosanne Bittner

  We are in Sioux country, and at any time wild Indians could come upon us and demand supplies. Mr. Clements says we must put on a good show of firearms and not allow them to bully us into giving up more than we can afford; however, we must try to be friendly. Will Krueger and his brother now must keep a closer watch on their cattle, since Indians sometimes steal them for meat.

  We will stay on this trail to a place called Red Buttes, and then to Independence Rock, where I plan to carve my name as one of the earliest settlers headed for Montana. From there we will leave the common Oregon Trail and head north, following the Powder River into Montana. Mr. Clements says that will be the most dangerous part of our journey because of both mountains and Indians.

  She stopped writing when she heard what sounded like arguing from the direction of the McCurdy wagon. She heard a woman scream, “Get out!” Then came what sounded like a slap, then a woman sobbing. A man started cursing profusely, and Clarissa set her diary aside, frowning with worry. Sophie slept with Lena and Carolyn tonight. If there was going to be some kind of trouble—

  “So, there you are!”

  Clarissa gasped when Samuel McCurdy suddenly appeared at the back of her wagon and was already half climbing inside before she could climb out. “What on earth—?”

  “You think it’s fun, don’t ya?” Sam told her, his face beet red and making his hair look redder than normal. He’d grown a beard since beginning their journey, and lately he’d been drinking.

  “What are you talking about?” Clarissa said, scooting away from him.

  “I’m talking about the way ya entice the men on this train, us knowing you keep company with Dawson Clements while the rest of us got wives that won’t give us the time o’ day!”

  Astonished, Clarissa moved her hand under a quilt to grasp a handgun Dawson had given her for use only in case of an Indian attack. “You’re drunk!” she seethed. “Get out of my wagon!” she screamed.

  He just grinned. “Sure, ’n’ first I’ll be gettin’ what Clements gets! My wife ain’t given me no relief in all these weeks!” He leaped for her, shoving her down into the quilts and grasping at her.

  “Stop it!” she screamed at him, turning her head when the drunken man tried to kiss her. “I have a gun!”

  “You’ll not use no gun, missy,” he groaned, “on account of you’re wantin’ this as much as me. I know how you intend to make a livin’ when you reach them minin’ towns in Montana.”

  Desperate, Clarissa put the gun in his side. Suddenly someone grabbed the man off her, and in the turmoil her gun went off. She heard Sam cry out and saw him being literally thrown out of the wagon at the same time. She heard a scuffle outside, heard several hard punches.

  She lay in shock as she heard other men’s voices now. “Stop it, Dawson! He’s been shot!”

  Clarissa looked at her gun. She’d shot a man! But what else was she to do? She didn’t mean to pull the trigger. She was going to warn him again first. The gun simply went off.

  “Okay! Okay!” someone else yelled. “Let’s handle this the right way.”

  It sounded like Ben Gobles, Sam’s brother-in-law.

  Now she heard a woman sobbing. “He was drunk,” she cried. “He hit me and left the wagon.”

  That was Sam’s wife, Sue. Now Clarissa heard a child crying, probably one of their children.

  There came more talk of “frontier justice” and holding a hearing about what just took place—to see who was really guilty of what. Did some of them actually think she was guilty of something? She sobbed, sitting up, shivering at the memory of Sam accosting her. She looked down at the gun, then raised her gaze when Dawson climbed into the wagon, dark rage in his eyes.

  “Clare! What did he do?”

  Bewildered, she looked at the gun again. “I didn’t mean to shoot him. It just…went off. He—” She looked at Dawson again. “He kept touching me…saying ugly things. He was…drunk.”

  Dawson moved closer, carefully taking the gun from her hand. He sat down and pulled her close. “It’s all right. You didn’t have any choice, and you only wounded him in the thigh. He’ll live.”

  Clarissa curled against him, relishing the safety of his arms. “He said terrible things, Dawson…about you and me.”

  He held her tighter. “He’s drunk and he’s angry with his wife. We all know they’ve fought before and he’s got an Irishman’s temper. What he said was all in his drunken head, Clare, but I assure you, he’s off this wagon train.”

  “But what if others think the same thing? Maybe they do.”

  “We’ll straighten it out.” He kissed her hair. “Tell me he didn’t…get far.”

  She buried her face in her hands. “No. Dawson, why does it have to be this way?”

  “It doesn’t. McCurdy and his family will be left behind tomorrow. And if his sister- and brother-in-law don’t like it, they can stay behind, too. This might not have happened if he wasn’t drunk, but I don’t intend to take the chance again.”

  “Clarissa!”

  Dawson turned. “Look,” he told her. “Here’s Carolyn. I’d better get out of this wagon. Carolyn will help you.”

  “No. Just send Sophie over. I’ll be all right. I just want to hold my little girl and pretend this never happened.”

  Dawson kissed her forehead, and with a sigh of anger he climbed out of the wagon, telling Carolyn to get Sophie and bring her over.

  “Tie him up!” he told someone. “Then pour some whiskey on that leg wound and bandage it. Tomorrow we’ll have a hearing about this, but I can tell you right now, nothing anyone says will change my mind. Sam McCurdy is off this wagon train! Tomorrow he gets left behind!”

  “No! We’ve come so far!” Sue objected.

  “Your husband is a drunken troublemaker,” Dawson told her. “I don’t want the worry of this happening again.”

  “Then kick Clarissa Graham off the train!” Sue McCurdy yelled at him. “She’s the troublemaker! You shouldn’t have brought a single woman along, and the things you two do are no worse than what my husband tried to do. It isn’t fair to have a pretty single woman flaunting herself in front of the men.”

  The air hung silent for a moment.

  “Ma’am.” She heard Dawson speak up then. “Never in my life have I given one thought to hitting a woman, but you sure make it tempting. Get out of my sight!”

  “You’re a cruel, unreasonable, demanding, unfair man, Dawson Clements!” the woman screamed at him. “My husband and I will gladly leave this wagon train!”

  There came a moment of silence.

  “I want to know right now if any of the rest of you are thinking about what that woman said,” Dawson demanded. “And I’m telling you for the last time that Mrs. Graham has done absolutely nothing wrong. She’s a fine, moral woman, and it takes guts to come out here alone like she’s done.”

  “That’s so,” Michael interjected. “I’ve known Mrs. Graham for a long time, and she’s not got a sinful bone in her body. This ugly mess is not fair to her.”

  Clarissa felt sick. Now poor Michael had been dragged into this. Were people claiming she was sleeping with him, too? How cruel and disgusting!

  “We’re putting an end to this,” Dawson announced. “Tomorrow we will record what happened, talk about it and then take a vote. Either Sam McCurdy will be off this train, or I’ll leave all of you behind and go on alone with Mr. Harvey and his wife and Mrs. Graham. Either way, I am asking Mr. Harvey to marry me and Mrs. Graham tomorrow. Maybe that will put an end to the sinful and unfair visions some of you have conjured up in your dirty minds!”

  Marry! Clarissa’s eyes widened in amazement. How did he know she would agree to such a thing? Was the man crazy?

  “We don’t all think that way, Mr. Clements, please believe us.” Wanda Krueger spoke up. “I like Mrs. Graham very much. She’s been a big help, nursing cuts and bruises on the children and helping watch them and all. I assure you we’ve never seen you or she act disrespectfully. You mustn’t judg
e all of us by what a drunken Irishman and his angry wife have done and said.”

  “Nevertheless, what’s done is done. The idea has been planted, and I won’t have it! We’ll be married tomorrow and that’s all there is to it! Now, take care of that drunken excuse of a man and get some sleep!”

  Clarissa heard the crunch of gravel beneath Dawson’s boots as he walked away. Then the wagon rocked slightly as Michael climbed onto the wagon gate. “Clare, are you all right?”

  Clarissa swallowed, still stunned over every unexpected action that had taken place. “I…didn’t mean to shoot him, Michael. Please pray he doesn’t die.”

  Michael smiled. “He won’t die. I saw the wound. It’s just through the flesh of his thigh, and I don’t doubt he deserved worse. What about you?”

  Clarissa shook her head, running a hand through her hair. “I don’t really know. I need time to absorb all of this.”

  “I’m so sorry, Clare. Maybe my wagon should be between yours and Carolyn’s, instead of in front of hers. That way I can hear better what’s happening with the both of you.”

  “You have enough to worry about. I’m the one who’s sorry. I’ve been a burden to practically everyone, especially you and—” Her eyes widened and she moved closer. “Michael, did you hear what Dawson said?”

  “About marrying you?” He rubbed at his eyes. “Of course I did.”

  “Do you think he means it?”

  “I expect he does.”

  “But I don’t want to marry him. At least not now, not this way, for all the wrong reasons. What on earth makes him think I would do such a thing?”

  Michael shrugged. “Well, now, I guess you’ll have to ask him, won’t you?”

  “Michael—”

  “Carolyn is here with a very sleepy Sophie,” he deliberately interrupted. He took Sophie from Carolyn and lifted her inside. Clarissa took her and laid the girl into the quilts.

  “Mommy,” Sophie said drowsily before falling right back to sleep.

  “Clare, are you okay?” Carolyn asked, her brown eyes full of concern and sympathy.

  “Yes, I’m fine. I’m so sorry, Carolyn, to be the cause of all this commotion.”

  “Nonsense! You weren’t the cause. That drunken Irishman was. You get some rest now. We’ll pray about this and we’ll all talk in the morning, honey.” She stepped up on a footrest and leaned farther inside the wagon. “Are you going to marry him tomorrow?”

  “No! The man must be out of his mind!”

  Carolyn smiled. “I think he knows exactly what he’s doing. Goodnight, Clare.” She left before Clarissa could reply, as did Michael.

  Frustrated and angry and embarrassed and completely sickened over what had just happened, Clarissa pulled the cord that brought down the canvas flap over the back opening of the wagon and leaned against the side of it again.

  “Dear God,” she prayed. “Forgive me for shooting that man, but I can’t believe it’s wrong for a woman to defend herself against such ugliness. Why do these things happen to me? Why, God? Why did Chad leave me? Why do people turn on me just because I’m without a husband? All I want is to get to Montana and make a new life for my Sophie. I never asked for Dawson Clements or any other man to come into my life. I just want to be left alone.” The tears came. “Lord Jesus, help me know what to do.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  June 29, 1863

  Sam McCurdy sat on a wooden chair in the middle of the circle of wagons, his head hanging. His wife and children, as well as his sister- and brother-in-law, Betsy and Ben Gobles, and their children, all stood behind Sam in an obvious effort to win the travelers’ sympathies so they would be allowed to continue the journey to Montana.

  “We all know what happened last night,” Dawson announced. “Samuel McCurdy got drunk and beat his wife, then left their wagon and went directly to Clarissa Graham’s wagon where he assaulted her and was accidentally shot by Mrs. Graham, who was only trying to defend herself. Then Sam and his wife both insulted Mrs. Graham in the most reprehensible way a woman can be insulted. I won’t stand for lies and false accusations on this wagon train. We are approaching a time when we will need to work together more than ever. Lack of cooperation could cost lives. Nor will I abide by a respectable woman being ridiculed and lied about. I feel the McCurdys should be kicked off this wagon train, but all of you insist on taking a vote on this, so be my guests.”

  Clarissa stood with Michael and Carolyn and the girls, wearing a simple green gingham dress with a high neckline, her hair wound into a tight bun. She wanted to look as prim-and-proper as possible. She kept her chin high, glaring at Sam and his wife. In spite of sporting a black eye, Sue McCurdy now staunchly defended her husband.

  “I am a Christian man who believes in forgiveness,” Michael declared, “but Mrs. Graham is a fine woman and a good friend to my wife. She was wrongly accosted and insulted. Still, we have to think of the McCurdy children.”

  Will Krueger stepped forward. “Wanda, Bert and I vote them off.”

  “Us, too.” Walt Clymer spoke for himself and his wife.

  “Ve don’t vant no trouble,” Otto Hensel said. “Za vife unt I say zey should go.”

  Robert Trowbridge declared rather nervously, “Well, uh, we don’t want any more trouble, either. Me and the wife have never seen anything questionable going on between Mrs. Graham and anyone else on this wagon train. She seems like a nice woman and a good mother, and she mostly minds her own business.” He looked at his wife, who smiled shyly. “My wife and I, well, we can’t help wondering if there could be some other solution to this situation.”

  “We don’t like to be judgmental,” John Clay told them. “Rosemarie and I abstain. We’ll go along with whatever the rest of you decide.”

  Dawson turned his attention to the Gobles. “You staying or leaving?” he asked Ben.

  The man hesitated, glancing at his wife and then his sister-in-law. “Well, naturally my wife wants to stand by her sister. And we do have to think of the children, Sam’s and mine both.” He cleared his throat before continuing, as though to muster up some courage. “Mr. Clements, I know Sam did wrong, but you can’t muster a man out of this wagon train like a soldier who’s disobeyed an order. You run this wagon train like an army troop. I mean, I know you’re used to giving orders, but it seems your mind is pretty well made up.”

  “I’m giving all of you a chance to vote on this, aren’t I? And as far as running this wagon train like a troop, that’s the only way to make sure we all reach Montana safely. I told you before we left how it would be.”

  “Should we really leave them here?” John Clay asked. “They could be attacked by Indians, or run out of supplies before more wagons come along.”

  “Sam McCurdy should have thought of that before he started drinking,” Dawson answered, still looking and sounding angry from the night before.

  “Well, Dawson, maybe we could let them sort of lag behind, stay a distance from us,” Michael told him. “After all, there are little children involved here. Maybe the answer is to make them keep a bit of a distance, but close enough where we can help them if they run into trouble. As far as Sam getting drunk and abusing his wife, well, that’s something the two of them and the Gobles need to do something about. Sam himself has to answer to the Lord for his wrongdoings, not to us, or to you, Dawson.”

  Dawson cast him a scowl. “He can’t control his drinking. And there stands his wife with a black eye, defending him.”

  Sue put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “That’s my right,” she answered. “A woman has to stand by her husband.”

  “Mr. Clements.” Clarissa spoke up then, keeping her address to him formal in front of the others. “Much as I detest Samuel McCurdy, I agree with Michael. We have to think of the women and children. Let them stay, but at a distance.”

  Dawson’s irritation was obvious in the long sigh he emitted. “All right, we’ll take a final vote. Everyone who wants them to stay, but farther back, raise your hands.”


  A few hands went up, then more, and more, including Clarissa’s.

  “On one condition,” Dawson said. “Sam McCurdy owes Mrs. Graham a genuine apology for the way he treated her last night.”

  Sam kept his head bowed. “I’m…sorry,” he said softly.

  “Stand up and come closer, and face her like a man,” Dawson ordered. “And speak up.”

  After a moment of hesitation, Sam rose and limped closer, facing Clarissa with bloodshot eyes and bruises on his face from Dawson’s sound beating the night before. He looked rightfully remorseful and embarrassed. “I said I was sorry,” he told Clarissa.

  “I still don’t think it’s right for a single woman to be along with us,” Sam’s wife said loudly, an obviously feeble attempt at somehow putting some of the blame on Clarissa. “Mr. Clements, you said last night you would marry her today. Are you going to do it? Seems to me that would solve a lot of problems.”

  “The only problem here is your drunken husband,” Clarissa fumed. “Why do you let him abuse you? Don’t you have any pride?”

  “Don’t talk to me about pride, you hussy!”

  Clarissa gasped and headed for Sue McCurdy. Dawson grabbed her. “This meeting is over.” He held on to Clarissa as he spoke. “McCurdy, get your family away from here, now! I want you a good hundred yards behind us. Hitch your teams and get moving!”

  Sam nodded and turned, walking up to his wife and telling her to shut her mouth. “Help me get the teams hitched!” he growled at her.

  “We took a vote, so don’t say I run this outfit unfairly,” Dawson told the others. “Go on about your business. Since we’ve wasted part of the morning because of Sam McCurdy, we won’t leave until one o’clock.” He kept hold of Clarissa’s arm and led her away from the others to a stand of pines.

  “I think they’re right about one thing, Clare. We should get married,” he told her bluntly.

  “What! Are you crazy?” She put her hands to her face, still trying to erase the urge to put her hands around Sue McCurdy’s neck. Dear God, forgive me for such animosity! How could she even consider Dawson’s suggestion when she was in such an emotional state?