by Stephen Bly
Retta rode Muggins bareback into the wind alongside William and Two Bears. They didn’t stop at noon even though the wind grew stronger.
“Three days ago we were stuck in the mud, and now look at this dust,” Retta shouted.
“Yes, but there are no bugs,” Two Bears hollered back.
“How close to the other side of the river will the wagon train be?” she called out.
“Don’t reckon the trail is along the river,” William answered. “Most times of the year it would be too boggy for an entire wagon train.”
“We can cross the river in about three miles,” Two Bears reported.
“What will we do after that?” Retta asked.
“We could cut across the trail and see if the wagon train is up ahead or behind,” William proposed.
“Do you really think we could have caught up with them by now?” Retta hollered into the wind.
William rode closer and leaned toward his sister. “This is a very good shortcut, but we have to cross the river twice. Don’t reckon it’s too practical when the water is high or if a hundred wagons have to go across. I do think we can catch up.”
“I can’t wait to show off Muggins.” Retta flopped down along the horse’s neck and patted his nose.
William wiped dust off his spectacles with his bandanna. “Oh, just who’re you thinkin’ of impressing?”
“Oh, you know—Christen, Joslyn, Gilson...”
“How about Miss Ansley?” he asked.
Retta curled her lower lip down. She glanced over at the Shoshone. “Two Bears, do you think Muggins can outrun Ansley’s black horse?”
“Only for a short distance. He is very fast between the lodge and the river, but I don’t think he will want to run long distances.”
A scream from the wagon halted the caravan. Retta raced back. She felt Muggins’s back slap across her sore behind. Lerryn knelt on the wagon seat peering inside. Retta dropped the reins and hit the ground running. “Is it Mama?” Lerryn turned around. “Yes, Papa is with her.”
Retta tried to see inside, but the wind-blown dust made her squint her eyes almost closed. “Did she have another spell?”
Lerryn turned around and sat down on the seat. “I just think it’s her time.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“But we aren’t at Fort Laramie. We were supposed to be at Fort Laramie.” Retta puffed out her cheeks. “What does Papa want us to do?”
Lerryn climbed down next to her. “Just wait, I guess.”
“It’s a horribly windy day,” Retta objected. “I wish we would press on until we find a windbreak.”
Lerryn slipped her arm around Retta’s waist as William rode up. “I suppose some things can’t wait.”
* * * * *
By the time Mr. Barre emerged, Andrew and William both stood beside their sisters.
“Lerryn, get up there with your mother,” Mr. Barre commanded.
She climbed into the wagon.
Mr. Barre stepped toward his boys. “Unhook the oxen and drive them to the river to drink. We aren’t goin’ anywhere.”
They began to pull the yokes off the livestock.
Two Bears parked his family at the river about a hundred yards away and waited.
Then Mr. Barre called to Retta, “Darlin’, I’d like you to build a fire. Boilin’ hot water will make a nice steam rag, but I don’t know if you can get one going in this wind.”
“I can do it, Papa,” Retta shot back.
“Give it your best try, darlin’.”
A fire proved more difficult than she imagined. Even though Retta carved some shavings for a fire starter and used the big green trunk as a windbreak, every attempt failed.
A barefoot Shy Bear meandered over and viewed Retta’s frantic efforts. Still wearing her pansy-plum dress, Shy Bear dropped to her knees and grabbed a stick. She began digging a very narrow trench with it.
“What’re you doing?” Retta asked.
Shy Bear motioned for Retta to dig on the other end of the trench. Using sticks and their bare hands, they dug a trench six inches wide, two feet long, and a foot deep.
Shy Bear tossed the shavings down in the hole. She reached into the pocket of her dress and pulled out a small, flat piece of rusted metal no bigger than a large coin. Holding it down in the trench, she struck it with what looked like a broken arrowhead. The result was a cascade of sparks, smoke, and then flames.
She stuck larger twigs on the fire. The flames licked up to the surface of the ground, where the wind acted as a barrier. With sticks and chips now burning, Retta put the large pot of water over the fire. The sides of the pot rested on the dirt edges of the slot-like fire pit.
“Thanks,” Retta said.
Shy Bear squeezed her hand. She stood and hiked back toward the river.
Mr. Barre stuck his head out of the wagon. “I thought I smelled a fire. Darlin’, how did you do that?” he hollered above the dust storm.
Retta trotted over to the wagon. The canvas wagon top flapped and popped in the wind. “Shy Bear helped me, Papa.”
“Darlin’, grab that new pony of yours and ride out there and tell William to gallop across the river and see if he can find the wagon train. We need Mrs. Weaver back here right away. It looks like your mama is goin’ to need extra help.”
“Papa, I can go.”
“Hurry, darlin’. There’s no time to waste.”
She heard her mother scream, “Eugene!” He popped back inside.
Lord, how can I hurry if I have to go find William in this dust storm? He didn’t say for me not to go. He just said to hurry. Help me, Jesus.
Retta grabbed the rope reins and pulled herself onto the pinto’s back. She galloped for the river. The eagle feather tickled her ear. Her buckskin dress pushed up above her knee-high moccasins. She leaned into the wind and hugged the horse’s neck.
“Come on, boy ... run ... and run!”
Retta could only see a few dozen yards in front of the horse. The swirling dust stung her eyes. She passed Two Bears on the run and didn’t attempt to wave. The pinto hit the river on the gallop and hardly slowed in the two-foot deep water. When they reached the south bank, she slammed her heels into his flanks. He galloped up the incline to the prairie.
By the time she reached the wagon trail, the wind was blowing so hard she could not see more than fifty feet. She stopped the horse and stared down at the dust swirling around the ruts of the trail.
“Oh dear, Muggins, I can’t tell if they’ve reached this point or not. What do I do now?”
Lord, please tell me which way to go. I can’t just stand here with dust in my eyes. They were two days ahead of us. Even with the shortcut, we can’t have caught up already. They must be ahead of us.
Retta turned her horse straight into the stiff wind and kicked his flanks. He didn’t budge.
“Come on, boy,” she yelled.
She kicked him again. He danced sideways but wouldn’t move forward.
“Muggins, please. I know it’s a bad wind, but we have to do this for Mama,” she cried and kicked his flanks again.
Muggins jerked to the south.
“You can’t turn tail.” Her voice broke. She fought back the tears. “Mama needs us.”
She kicked him as hard as she could. The paint horse broke into a gallop—straight east.
“No!” She tried to pull him back, but the horse would not slow his gallop. As she bounced along, barely able to hang on, the dust darkened around her. Retta could only see a few feet ahead. Without warning Muggins cut to the right. Retta grabbed the horse’s mane with both hands.
A startled Bobcat Bouchet came into view and disappeared in the dust.
“The wagon train! Muggins, we found it. You found it.”
She reined up quickly and was on the ground next to the first wagon when Bouchet made it back to her.
“Missy, is that you?” he shouted through the wind. Colonel Graves ran up to her side. “How on earth did you ge
t ahead of us?”
“We took a shortcut. Mama’s time has come, and she needs Mrs. Weaver. We’re just across the river.”
“Where’s the river?” the colonel asked.
“About a mile north of here, I reckon. Please, I need to hurry.”
“Hop on your pony. Let’s go back to the Weaver wagon,” the colonel instructed. He grabbed the rope halter and led the paint along the line of wagons.
A black-haired girl stuck her head out of the back of a wagon. “Retta, I never thought I’d see you again.”
“Joslyn, I’ve got to get Mrs. Weaver for Mama.” Joslyn jumped down and trotted beside Retta. “Is that your horse?”
“Yes, I told you I would get one.”
Ansley MacGregor rode up to her. “Retta! What’re you doing here? Oh, I’m glad to see you. Where’s your wagon?”
“On the other side of the river. I’ve got to get right back.”
“I’ll ride with you,” Ansley offered.
When they reached the Weaver wagon, it was Ben who stood by the lead ox. “Retta,” he yelled.
She leaned over and shouted into the wind, “Is your mama in the wagon?”
“Yes,” Ben hollered. “The dust is so bad she went inside.”
“I need her.” Retta slipped down and trotted to the wagon.
Christen stuck her head out the back. “Retta!”
“I need your mother—quick! Mama’s in bad shape across the river.”
Mrs. Weaver stuck her head out. “I’ll get my things,” she shouted and then turned to Colonel Graves. “Get us a light wagon, colonel. I don’t straddle a horse like these young girls.”
He scratched his head. “A light wagon? Oh ... the new one.”
He led Retta and her friends down the parked line of wagons. They came up to a pair of mules and the paneled wagon. “Are they here?” she gasped.
The colonel stared at her. “You know them?”
Retta puffed out her cheeks.
“They’re new. One of them got shot by Indians,” Ben reported. “They barely escaped with their lives.”
“Indians?” Retta folded her arms across her chest. “I shot him in the seat of the pants when he tried to steal our cows.”
“You what?” The colonel glanced over at Bobcat Bouchet and motioned for him to go to the back of the wagon.
“Colonel Graves,” Retta declared, “they are horrible prairie pirates. Daddy said we should have shot them all.”
The colonel banged on the side of the paneled wagon with his rifle butt. “Get out of there,” he shouted.
Elmo stuck his head out and spied Retta in the dust. “What’s she doin’ here? That’s the Injun who broke Davy’s toes and shot him in the backside.”
“Get out of the wagon,” the colonel ordered, his rifle pointed at the man.
As Elmo climbed down, there was a commotion at the rear. Bobcat led Davy around to the front. “The other one objected, and I coldcocked him,” Bouchet announced.
“She shot me! That Injun gal is the one that shot me,” Davy shouted as Bobcat shoved him along.
“She’s no more Indian than I am,” Bobcat fumed.
“But she’s wearin’ Indian garb.”
“And you’re wearin’ a gun, but that doesn’t make you a gunman.” The colonel pulled himself up into the wagon. “We’re confiscating your wagon for a sick lady.”
“You can’t do that. It’s got our personals,” Elmo protested.
The colonel glanced inside the paneled wagon and then looked down at the two held at bay by Bobcat’s gun. “Most everything in this wagon has been stolen from someone in this train.”
“You want me to take them out on the prairie and shoot them?” Bobcat yelled out.
“You can’t do that,” Elmo hollered out.
“Of course we can,” the colonel replied.
“Colonel,” Retta called out, “there are army troops headed this way behind you. They should catch up with you soon.”
“Good! Tie them up and leave them lying on the prairie.”
He drove the wagon out of the line. “Now, Retta, I can’t drive this wagon to your mother’s because I have to be here to start up the wagon train as soon as the wind allows us to,” he told her. “To be parked out in this dust storm would be dangerous for everyone.”
“I’ll drive it,” Ben offered.
“I’ll go with Ben,” Joslyn called out.
By the time they picked up Mrs. Weaver, Joslyn, Ben, and Christen were also in the wagon. Retta, with Ansley MacGregor alongside her, led the wagon into the dust storm.
“How can you find where to cross the river?” Ansley shouted. Her red hair flagged out behind her, and her green eyes were almost squinted shut.
“I don’t know,” Retta called out. “The Lord will have to lead us.”
“Or maybe an Indian girl?” Ansley shouted a reply.
Retta started to grin, but the sand got in her teeth. “No, I’m not that good at finding my way in a dust storm.”
“I didn’t mean you. I meant her.” Ansley pointed to the
west.
In the shadows Retta spotted a familiar silhouette. “It’s Shy Bear.”
Retta galloped up to the girl, who straddled a buckskin horse. Without a word, she led them to the river.
When they arrived at the bank of the river, Two Bears was there. He jumped on the back of the lead mule that pulled the paneled wagon and guided the wagon across the river. They turned away from the wind and rolled along about a quarter of a mile. They were almost on top of the covered wagon before it came into view. Retta leaped off her horse as her father stuck his head out the front flap.
“I’ve got Mrs. Weaver, Papa. The wagon train is just across the river.”
He pulled his bandanna up over his mouth to block the blowing sand and dirt.
“Thanks, darlin’, but it’s too late.”
“What do you mean?” Retta shouted.
“It’s too late,” he hollered. “It’s all over.”
Chapter Nine
“Over?” Retta burst into tears. “How can it be over? I hurried as fast as I could, Papa.”
“It’s okay, darlin’,” Mr. Barre assured her. “Mrs. Two Bears was very helpful.”
Lerryn poked her head out. “She’s beautiful.”
Retta puffed out her cheeks. “Mama?”
“No, silly.” Lerryn grinned. “Jessica Laramie Barre.”
Retta could feel her heart race. “It’s a girl?”
Lerryn nodded. “She’s so tiny.”
Retta spun around to the paneled wagon where Ben was helping Mrs. Weaver to the ground. “Did you hear that? It’s a girl,” she hollered.
Christen and Joslyn clapped and then jumped down and ran over to her.
William climbed off the Barre wagon, his felt hat pulled down to his spectacles. Dust swirled around his face.
Retta grabbed her brother’s arm. “What does she look like?”
“Mama?” he grinned.
Retta brushed sand out of the corners of her eyes. “No, what does little Jessica look like?”
Lerryn reached down her hand. “Come on, sis, but you better be prepared.”
“Prepared for what?”
Andrew stepped alongside her and gave her a boost. “She’s weeks early. She’s very small and...”
“And what? What is it you won’t tell me? Is something wrong?”
Lerryn took her hand and tugged her inside the wagon. “Oh, nothing’s wrong with her. She just looks identical ... to you.”
* * * * *
The evening was hectic. But the windstorm died down before dark, and so they crossed the river. The Barre wagon took the last position, behind old Sven Neilsen. And behind the Barres, Lucy Two Bears set up their camp.
Seated at the campfire next to the Barre wagon were Christen Weaver, Joslyn Jouppi, Ansley MacGregor, and a very pale Gilson O’Day. Retta stood at the side of the wagon, waiting for Lerryn to hand out a blanketed bundle. Sh
e walked slowly back to the girls, cradling the bundle in her arms.
Retta rocked the baby as she talked. “Here she is. This is my li’l sis, Jessica Laramie Barre.”
The girls huddled around. Gilson remained seated on the trunk.
Retta stopped next to the short girl with curly brown hair. “Now, Jessie, this is Christen. She has been my friend ever since we were babies. She has stuck with me through everything. So if you find a friend like Christen, hang onto her. But never ask Christen about that boy camped out with his uncles down on Little Blue Creek.”
“Retta!” Christen protested.
“What boy?” Ansley asked. “I don’t remember a boy. How come I don’t remember?”
Retta ignored the questions and stepped alongside the girl with the straight black hair. “Now this is Joslyn. I just met Joslyn when we started this trip, but she’s a good friend already, and it seems like we’ve known each other forever. She’s going to California to get rich. So when you grow up, she’ll probably have one of the fine houses in San Francisco. She’s very pretty, but she doesn’t think she is. But the boys know. The boys always know who the pretty ones are. Jessie, I’ll tell you all about girls like you and me later.”
Retta pulled the blanket back from the baby’s sleepy eyes and stepped up to the tallest girl. “Now, darlin’, this is Ansley MacGregor. She used to be a real pill.”
“Retta,” Christen cautioned.
“Oh, let her continue,” Ansley laughed. “Retta’s right, of course.”
“But don’t let her fool you,” Retta continued. “Ansley is now a good friend, too. Ansley’s problem is that she’s too beautiful. All the girls are jealous, and all the boys act like monkeys around her.”
Ansley continued to laugh.
“It’s true.” Retta turned to Joslyn and Christen. “It’s true, isn’t it?”
Both girls nodded their heads.
“But you and me, Jessie, don’t have to worry about that.” She sat down on the trunk. “Now, baby, this is Gilson. She’s a very, very special friend. But Gilson has been kind of sick for a long time. She’s the kindest, dearest girl I’ve ever met in my life. You and me are going to take care of her and make sure she gets to Oregon.”