by Stephen Bly
“Yes, and you have to be one of my pupils.”
“Okay, but I get to sit in the back of the class. In Ohio they made me sit up front.”
“I wonder why?” Andrew jibed.
“Very well, you may sit in the back. As long as you behave yourself and don’t write notes to the boys on your slate.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Retta giggled.
“How about you, little sis?” Andrew probed. “What do you look forward to in Oregon?”
Retta wrinkled her nose. “Wood for fires instead of chips. Do you know how disgusting it is to have to collect buffalo dung every day?”
“No, really,” Andrew pressed. “What’re you looking forward to?”
“Having my own horse. I’ll have enough money saved up to buy a horse by the time we get to Oregon. In fact, I hope to have one by Independence Rock.”
“I think ... we should all ... go to sleep,” William mumbled.
Retta scooted down under the quilt. Lerryn scrunched in beside her. Their faces almost touched.
“Retta,” she whispered.
“Yes?”
“Do you have your coup stick?”
“It’s over here between me and William.”
“Can we put it right between us?”
“Why?”
“For protection. I’d feel safer.”
“Sure.”
Retta tucked the stone hammer near their shoulders. She felt Lerryn’s arm drape over her back. Retta looped her arm around her sister’s neck.
“I’m glad you’re my sister, Retta.”
She could feel her sister’s warm breath. “I’m glad you’re my sister too, Lerryn.”
“I’m scared, Retta.”
“I know. So am I.”
“Which scares you most—being left on the prairie or Mama takin’ sick?” Lerryn asked.
“Mama’s sickness.”
“Yeah, me too. Retta, no matter what happens, we’ll still take care of each other, won’t we?”
Retta hugged her sister. “Yep.”
“Are you really only twelve?”
“You know I am. Why did you ask that?”
Lerryn rubbed her shoulder against Retta’s. “Tonight it seems like you’re much older.”
“Well, if I wet the quilt, you won’t think that,” Retta snickered.
Lerryn scooted away a little but kept her arm on Retta’s shoulder.
Chapter Three
Christen Weaver and Joslyn Jouppi huddled by Retta’s side just as daylight finally broke across the prairie. The wagons cast long shadows to the west under scattered clouds in the sky. A busy hum of conversation, shouts, and laughter mingled as all the wagons lined up. Crates, boxes, and pothooks were stored and children accounted for.
Odors of fried meat and straining oxen drifted across the encampment. Retta knew that at the front of the train, Colonel Graves and a few others would be making final plans. Somewhere toward the front, Taggie Potts’s father held a bugle in his hand, waiting for a signal.
Everyone was ready to leave.
All except the Barres.
Retta wore her brown cotton dress with the collar too tight to button. Her forehead was deeply tanned. Unlike Retta, the other girls wore bonnets that matched their dresses.
Joslyn’s thin lips quivered. “I can’t believe this. Two days ago I was crying because I had to go on without you. Now I’m doin’ it all over again. This isn’t fun, Retta. I’m tired of having to say good-bye.”
Retta felt the dry west wind chapping her lips. “I know, Joslyn, but it’s only for a day or two.”
“It doesn’t feel like just a day or two.”
“What’s it feel like?”
Joslyn took Retta’s hand. “Like I’ll never see you again.”
“When Mama feels better, Papa said we could catch
up.”
Christen seized her other hand. “My mama wanted us to stay with you, but Daddy said ...” She paused and took a deep breath. “Oh, you know how daddies are. He said one of our families needed to get to Oregon before those other wagon trains do. He said he’d hold a good home site for your family at gunpoint if he needed to until you catch up.”
Retta squeezed both of their hands at the same time. “We’ll be back with you in a few days.”
Christen’s dark brown hair curled out from under her calico bonnet. “In that case, do you want me to keep Ansley away from my brother?”
Retta’s smile pushed toward her ears. “How’re you going to do that?”
“I thought I’d tie him up and toss him in the canvas sling under the wagon.”
“With the buffalo chips?” Retta giggled.
Christen raised her chin and glanced down her nose at the other girls. “Yes. What do you think?”
“And leave him there for three or four days?” Joslyn laughed.
“Yes,” Christen laughed. “Until Retta catches up with
us.”
“But what if that takes two or three weeks?” Joslyn teased.
“In that case, Ansley can have him,” Retta proclaimed.
“Speaking of the red-haired queen bee.” Joslyn pointed to the girl on horseback galloping straight at them. The rider’s straw hat was tied under her chin with a forest- green ribbon.
Ansley reined up, but her long-legged black horse danced a little sideways. “Retta, I can’t believe you’re staying back. It’s dangerous to go it alone.” She jumped down and led her horse up to the girls.
Retta lowered her chin and her voice. “Mama can’t be moved.”
Ansley stepped in front of Retta. “Well... well... we’ll miss you.”
All three girls stared at Ansley.
Ansley licked her full, dark red lips and took a deep breath. “I’ll miss you,” she blurted out.
Retta reached out her hand.
Ansley paused and then grabbed it hard. Her voice softened. “Really, Retta, the wagon train won’t be the same without you. Everyone says so.”
“Thanks, Ansley. I’m going to miss everyone, too. But we’ll catch up in a few days. Mama’s bad spells don’t usually last too long.”
“I’ll look in on Gilson every morning and evening. I know she’ll miss you terribly.”
Retta stared at her. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Ansley like this. Is she serious? Is she using me? Why is she being so pleasant and nice? “Thank you. I would appreciate that.”
Ansley stroked her horse’s nose. “As soon as she’s able, I’ll let her ride my horse with me.”
“I think she’d like that. It’ll give her something to look forward to,” Retta said.
“That’s very generous, Ansley,” Christen affirmed.
“Is that what it’s called?” Ansley winked at Retta. “I always wondered what that word meant.”
After an awkward pause Ansley grinned and all four girls broke into laughter.
Ansley brushed red hair off her ears. “And I might even leave Ben alone if you do a favor for me.”
Retta rocked back on her heels. “What’s that?”
“Tell your brother what a wonderful girl I am, how I’m very mature for my age, and—”
“But William already has a girlfriend.”
Ansley’s green eyes danced. “Not that brother.”
“But Andrew is four years older than you.”
“How much older is your papa than your mama?”
“Eh, almost seven years.”
“And my daddy’s sixteen years older than my mother. So what does age have to do with it?” Ansley argued.
Retta scratched her head and wrinkled her nose. “Okay, I’ll tell Andrew you’re cute, demure, charming, coy, glamorous, intelligent, and rich.”
“Well, you got the first and last ones right. Bye, Retta. I hope you hurry and catch up with us soon.”
Ansley reached over and hugged a stunned Retta Barre. Then the redhead climbed on her horse and rode up the row of wagons.
Retta stared at the departing girl. “Is tha
t the same Ansley MacGregor we all know and love?”
“She surely has changed in just a few days,” Joslyn observed. “I wonder what she’s scheming?”
“Sounds like she’s scheming to catch Retta’s brother,” Christen replied.
“That’s bad news for the rest of us,” Joslyn declared. “Don’t you dare tell your brother anything about Ansley.”
“Why? Are you after my brother, too?”
“Coretta Emily,” Christen lectured, “every unmarried girl in this wagon train wants to latch on to your brothers.”
“Really?”
“That’s the only reason we hang around you—to be close to your brothers.” Joslyn tried to keep a straight face, but she ended up sputtering and throwing her arm around Retta.
“And all this time I thought you were my friends because of my sparkling personality.”
“Yeah, that too,” Christen said.
“We’re goin’ to miss you bad, ’cause there’s no one on earth who has more fun or gets herself into more adventures than Retta Barre.”
“You two have been such great friends. I’ll miss you most of all. And now I guess I’ll even miss Ansley.”
“She’s getting so nice we won’t even have anyone to talk about,” Christen quipped.
“You can talk about me,” Retta offered.
Christen folded her arms. “Coretta Emily Barre, everyone in the whole wagon train talks about you already. The first time an Indian party cuts our trail, they’ll be saying, ‘“I wish our little Shoshone princess, Miss Retta, was here. She’d know what to do.’”
“I don’t know anything. I just sort of stumble along and it seems to turn out okay.”
Christen turned to Joslyn. “And she’s modest, too.”
“Are you goin’ to wear your buckskin the whole time you’re out here?” Joslyn asked.
Retta rubbed her nose with the palm of her hand. “I guess I haven’t thought about it.”
“You have to promise me you’ll wear the buckskin and carry your coup stick everywhere,” Christen insisted.
“Oh, I’m goin’ to be fine. I’ve got Papa and my brothers to look after me.”
“And they have to look after your sick mama and your sister, too,” Joslyn pointed out. “Christen’s right. You simply must wear your buckskin.”
Their conversation died when Mr. Potts sounded his bugle.
“There’s the call to roll out. You two go on. I’ll see you in a few days.”
Joslyn clung to Retta’s arm and wailed, “We aren’t going to see each other again.”
“We most certainly are.”
“I don’t want to leave you, Retta.” Tears streamed down Christen’s face. “I’m really scared for you.”
“Go on before I cry too.” Retta puffed out her cheeks and held her breath.
Joslyn and Christen pulled away.
“You have to promise to wear your buckskin dress,” Joslyn called back.
“Every day,” Christen shouted.
“I promise...” Retta’s voice faded as the wagons began to roll. “I promise...”
Like a train leaving a depot, the wagons lumbered onto the short brown grass of the prairie.
Colonel Graves.
Bobcat Bouchet The O’Days.
The Landers The Potts.
The Weavers.
Mrs. Ferdinand.
Old Sven Neilsen.
And all the other wagons and ponies.
Everyone was gone except one lone wagon. Twelve-and-a-half-year-old Retta sat on a green trunk and watched the entire string of wagons roll over the rise on the prairie. Her father hiked up with his rifle over his shoulder. “Well, li’l sis, I reckon it’s just us.”
“This place seems even more empty and lonely now, doesn’t it?” she asked.
“Well, darlin’, I reckon the Lord is just as close to us here as He would be in church in Barresville.”
“I know, Papa, but we’ve been traveling with two hundred people for so long. Now they’re gone.”
“Think of it as a vacation.”
“Are we going to just sit here?”
“I don’t want any of us to go far from the wagon today. Mama was in a bad way last night. We’ll huddle around. You four set up the awning and make camp permanent.”
“And then what?”
“We wait.”
“How long, Papa?”
“Until the Lord tells us it’s time to move.”
* * * * *
Retta thought it was the longest day they spent since they left Ohio. William and Andrew occupied themselves with the care of the animals. Lerryn and Retta gathered what chips they could find, never getting out of sight of the covered wagon.
Papa stayed in the wagon with Mama.
And Mama slept.
And slept.
And slept.
That night after supper Retta and Lerryn bunked in the wagon. Mr. Barre and the boys camped outside. Retta woke up once in the night when her mother called out for Grandma Carter. Lerryn said something and Retta fell back asleep.
At one point Retta thought she heard a rooster’s crow at the dawn, but she woke up to the blackness of night. All she heard was a distant coyote and a horsefly buzzing somewhere under the canvas wagon top.
The next day started as the last one ended. Nothing stirred on the prairie except the Barre family.
William and Andrew raced horses.
William won.
Lerryn and Retta mended several shirts and stockings. Papa stayed by Mama’s side.
And Mama slept.
But she did wake up hungry.
And then she slept some more.
The sun hung three-quarters of the way across the pale prairie sky when her father climbed down out of the wagon. His cotton shirt was sweat-stained, and he carried his rifle and shot case. His powder horn hung at his side. “What’re you doing, darlin’?” he asked Retta.
“Just listening, Papa.”
“What’re you listenin’ to?”
“My heart, I guess. There isn’t any other noise.”
“And what is your heart sayin’?”
“It’s saying that I want Mama to get well so bad I hurt all over.”
“I know, darlin’. That’s just how I feel. She’s eatin’ today, and that’s good. The Lord’s been good to us. It’s been a nice, quiet day. Sometimes no sounds are better than too many. There are no Indian war chants, no thunderin’ buffalo stampede.”
“And no other wagon train catching up with us. I’m kind of surprised about that, Papa.”
“Maybe they got off the trail.”
“Maybe we did.”
Mr. Barre rubbed his chin. “You could be more right than you know, darlin’. Either way, here we are.”
“What’re you goin’ to do now, Papa?”
“Thought I’d hike to the river and hunt a little. Maybe we can eat somethin’ that isn’t pickled or salted. Your mama is gettin’ tired of preserved meat.”
“Are you going by yourself?”
“The boys are busy. I’ll just be gone a short while.”
“Can I go with you?”
“No, you stay here in case big sis needs you for something.”
“Can I wear my buckskin dress?”
“Sure, darlin’, you wear whatever you want. You goin’ to change in the middle of the day?”
“My buckskin doesn’t show dirt like this cotton one.” Retta shaded her eyes as the sun broke out from under a small, round, puffy cloud. “It’s a purdy day, Papa.”
“It surely is, darlin’. I’ll be back in a few minutes. We’ll cook up somethin’ special for supper.”
Retta crawled up into the wagon. Lerryn sat on a pillow on top of the green trunk, talking with Mrs. Barre, who wore her flannel nightgown.
“Hi, Mama. I didn’t know you were awake.”
“Baby, I can’t sleep all the time.” Her mother patted Lerryn’s hand. “I understand we’re all alone out here.”
R
etta bit her lip. “All the other wagons are gone.”
Mrs. Barre’s voice was very soft. “I know, baby. Are you scared?”
“Not as much as I thought I would be. I think I’m a little lonely for my friends. That’s okay, isn’t it?”
“We all miss our friends.”
Retta studied her mother’s pale face. Each word seemed delivered in pain. “I can look for miles and see no one,” Retta continued. “Being in the wagon train is like living in a portable town that packs up and moves every day. It’s like living in town. Now it’s like we moved to the country— only we didn’t move. Town packed up and moved away from us.”
Mrs. Barre raised her hands to her temples. “Where’s Papa?” she asked.
“He went to the river to hunt.” Retta smiled. “You want me to go fetch him?”
“No ... no ... I guessed that’s where he went. I made the mistake of mentioning that I didn’t think I could eat any more salted pork.” She paused for a moment and held her chest and took a deep breath. Retta could see pain shoot across her mother’s face. “I should have known he would go hunting. Did he take William and Andrew?”
“No, he went by himself. The boys are with the animals in the tall grass. Do you want me to get them for you?”
“He shouldn’t have gone by himself,” Mrs. Barre replied, her jaw locked, her eyes glazed.
“He won’t be gone very long,” Retta soothed.
“He knows better than to go off and leave us,” Mrs. Barre snapped, still staring at the white canvas of the wagon top.
“Mama, it’s okay. Daddy can take care of himself,” Retta assured her.
“Well, he needs to take care of a lot more than himself.”
Lerryn reached over and tried to smooth the wrinkles from her mother’s brow. “Mama, you know how Papa likes to please you.”
Mrs. Barre lay back down on the pillow and stretched her arm over her eyes. “He had no business leaving us out here by ourselves—just three women.”
That’s the first time Mama ever said I was a woman. “Andrew and William are here with us,” Retta reminded her. “They’re just boys.”
Lerryn took her mother’s hand. “Mama, William is going to be twenty-one.”
“Whose side are you on?” Mrs. Barre demanded. Retta looked at her sister. Lerryn shook her head and then stroked her mother’s cheek. “Mama, are you hurting bad again?”