The Buffalo's Last Stand

by Stephen Bly

  “Oh, thanks.” Joslyn scowled. “I take that to mean I’m boring.”

  “Oh, no,” Ben assured her. “Individual girls aren’t tiresome. It’s when you all get together it gets pretty wearisome.”

  Retta giggled. “Thank you. I’m glad you explained.”

  Ben shoved the headband down on his bushy blond hair. “You’re welcome.”

  * * * * *

  By the time Retta and Joslyn reached the O’Day wagon, Christen Weaver had joined them. Retta led the procession. “Hi, Mrs. O’Day. We came to visit Gilson.”

  The tall woman brushed a wisp of gray hair from her eye. “And what is all this I hear about you, young lady?”

  Retta rocked back on her heels. “You mean, with the Indians?”

  “My dear girl, I hear you might be the most daring young lady to head down the Oregon Trail.”

  Retta dropped her head to her chest. “I think it’s just ’cause I get into more trouble, and the Lord is gracious to rescue me.”

  Mrs. O’Day wiped her large hands on her apron. “But how did you know what to do when you were alone with those savages?”

  “I guess I forgot they were savages and just thought of them as people, and I, eh, prayed a lot.”

  Mrs. O’Day stared at Retta and then looked at her wagon. “That’s good, darlin’. You keep prayin’ for as long as you can. The day may come when you can’t pray anymore. I ran out of prayers years ago.”

  “You can’t run out of prayers.” Christen exclaimed.

  “You girls are young yet. You’ll learn someday, I reckon. I prayed for over ten years for the Lord to heal my Gilson. I don’t reckon I should keep pesterin’ Him since He seems to want her sick.”

  “Since I haven’t run out of prayers, may I continue to pray for Gilson?” Retta asked.

  Mrs. O’Day moved several feet away from the wagon and stared out into the twilight on the prairie. “Yeah ... you do that, darlin’.”

  “May we go see Gilson now?” Joslyn asked.

  Mrs. O’Day untied her apron. “Would you girls stay with her a few minutes? I need to ... get some fresh air.”

  Retta nodded. “Sure.”

  They watched Mrs. O’Day stroll out into the short buffalo grass lapping along the North Platte River Valley.

  “What did she mean, fresh air?” Christen asked. “We’re outside.”

  “Maybe she just needs to be alone. I don’t think she’s feeling too good either,” Retta offered.

  Joslyn climbed up first. She yanked back the flap as the other two clambered up behind her. “Put on your robe, Gilson. You have company.” Joslyn called out.

  Retta scooted into the wagon. “Where is she?”

  “She’s gone,” Joslyn declared.

  “Gone?” Christen said. “She’s too sick to go anywhere.”

  “Well, she’s not here,” Joslyn maintained.

  Retta turned up the wick on the small oil lamp. “Her mama thinks she’s here.” She stuck her head out of the opening at the front of the wagon. “Mrs. O’Day?” she called. There was no answer.

  “Retta!” Christen cried. “Retta, come here.”

  Retta could feel the hair on her arms prickle as she spun around. “What is it?”

  “A note,” Joslyn exclaimed. “She’s given up, Retta. Gilson’s given up.”

  Joslyn shoved an envelope at Retta. There was writing on the back of it. Retta held it up to the dim lamp.

  Dearest Mama,

  I just can’t do it anymore. I’m so tired. I hurt all over. I’m not strong like Retta, Mama. I’m so scared all the time. I'm afraid of living. I’m afraid of dying.

  You and Papa go to Oregon and start that farm. I know I will be buried along the trail like all the others. I’ve known that since we left Missouri. But maybe you could put a marker in Oregon for me. I wanted to make it, Mama. I really did. I love you and Papa. But I’m so tired of living, and you’re tired of praying. So good-bye, Mama and Papa.

  Your daughter, Gilson Corrine O’Day.

  Chapter Eight

  Retta folded her arms across her chest and forced the tears back. “We’re going to find her.”

  Christen peered out the back of the O’Day wagon. “It’s getting quite dark.”

  Retta folded the envelope with Gilson’s note and stuffed it into her dress sleeve. “She’s not too strong. She can’t be far.”

  Joslyn picked up a small tintype picture of Gilson from the top of a crate. “Why would she want to run off in the dark?”

  Retta peeked out the back of the wagon. “You’re right. It’s pitch-black out there.”

  “And her parents love her so much.” Joslyn laid the tintype back on the crate. “It’s dumb to run off.”

  Christen wrinkled her nose. “Couldn’t we just stand beside the wagon and yell for her?”

  “No, that will alarm everyone.” Retta closed the wagon flap and sat on the edge of a water keg. “We have to find her and bring her back before her mother even knows she’s gone.”

  “How?” Christen asked.

  Retta rested her elbows on her knees, her chin on her hand. The air in the wagon was musty and reeked of menthol salve. “If you were really depressed and didn’t want to keep on living, where would you go?”

  “I wouldn’t wander out on the dark prairie at night,” Christen declared. “Why, the Indians might get me ... or wild animals ... or outlaws ... or ... Oh, well, if I didn’t want to live, maybe I would just walk out on the prairie.”

  “But I wouldn’t go toward the river,” Joslyn added.

  “Why?” Retta questioned.

  “Because the water is too shallow to drown in, at least nearby, and the men graze the cattle and horses that way and would find me.”

  Retta reached down to the quilts and plucked up a small porcelain-headed doll. “In that case, I think I would just walk south.”

  “Where?” Christen asked. “There’s nothing to the south.”

  “That’s exactly why I would go there.” Retta stroked the dark-haired doll. “If I felt like Gilson, I would walk and walk and walk and walk until I got tired or fell down, and then ... then I’d just sleep in the grass and hope I never woke up.”

  “You would?” Christen gasped.

  Retta carefully tucked the doll under the quilt. Its head rested on the tattered pillowcase. “If I hurt bad and was as melancholy as Gilson, I would.”

  Joslyn stuck her head out the back of the wagon and then pulled it back in. “But how’re we going to find her without getting lost ourselves?”

  Retta chewed her lip. She glanced around the wagon. Her gaze fixed on the lamp. “Let’s each take a candle. We can hike south until we can barely see the wagon train, and then one of us could be posted there. The other two will hike farther south until we can barely see the first candle. Then the second sentinel will be posted, and the last one will go out to where she can barely see the last candle.”

  “And then what?” Joslyn asked.

  Retta folded her hands beneath her chin as if to pray. “We’ll call and call for Gilson.”

  “And if we don’t find her?” Christen posed the question. Retta dropped her hands to her side. “We’ll ... we’ll come back here and report it all to Mrs. O’Day. It will only take a little while. We’ve got to try.”

  Christen picked up the small wagon lamp. “You mean, we’ll just stand out there on the prairie and hold a candle all by ourselves?”

  Retta stood and brushed her bangs out of her eyes. “Yes, but not for very long.”

  “In the dark?” Christen whimpered.

  “You’ll have candlelight.” Retta licked her fingers and tried to smooth down her thick hair.

  “Will we carry guns?” Joslyn asked.

  Retta glanced at Joslyn’s shiny black hair all in place. “Do you have a gun?”

  Joslyn’s narrow nose wiggled in a grimace. “Eh, no.”

  Retta scooted past the girls to the front of the O’Day wagon. “It won’t be too bad. We’ll
be able to see each other’s candles at all times.”

  Joslyn slipped her hand into Retta’s and asked in a soft voice, “Do you really think we can find Gilson?”

  Retta squeezed her fingers. “We’ll probably find her by the second candle.”

  “I’ve got those fat candles we made for the church bazaar back in Ohio,” Christen offered. “I was saving them for a real emergency.”

  “This is a real emergency. How many do you have?” Retta asked.

  “Six.”

  “Bring them all,” Retta urged. “We’ll have two each.” She climbed out of the wagon and waited for the other two.

  “I’m barefoot. I need to get my shoes,” Joslyn said.

  “Hurry,” Retta directed.

  “I’ll do it... only if...” Christen paused.

  “If what?” Joslyn asked.

  “If Retta wears her buckskins and brings her coup stick with us ... just in case,” Christen blurted out.

  Retta put her hands on her hips. “We’re only going to be a few hundred yards from the wagon train. We must hurry.”

  “Please, Retta,” Christen begged.

  “Okay ... we’ll meet back here.”

  “What if Mrs. O’Day returns?” Joslyn asked.

  “We’ll tell her the truth,” Retta replied.

  Christen pointed to the envelope up her sleeve. “And show her the note?”

  “Oh.” Retta bit her lip and felt for the folded envelope. Lord Jesus, I really don’t want Mrs. O’Day to be hurt by this note. “Let’s just pray we can get Gilson back before she’s missed.”

  * * * * *

  When Retta reached her wagon, Ben and Travis lounged on the green trunk next to the lamp. Travis waved the coup stick. Ben wore the eagle-feather headband.

  “Did you have any adventures without us?” Ben asked.

  “Eh, nope. Did you?”

  “Shoot, we jist now got done with them dishes.” Travis pointed to the basin full of water.

  She reached out her hand. “Travis, I need the coup stick.”

  He handed the rock hammer to her, and both boys jumped up. “How come, Retta? Are you goin’ after Indians again?”

  She looked away from the boys. “No, of course not.”

  Ben scooted around in front of her. “Then what’re you doin’?”

  Retta glanced down at the packed dirt next to the wagon wheel. “Christen wanted me to bring it. Gilson hasn’t seen it yet.”

  Ben tugged on his leather suspenders. “Maybe we’ll just come with you.”

  Retta shook her head. “No reason for that.”

  Travis sidled up next to Ben. “You don’t want us to come?”

  “You can come, but you can’t go into Gilson’s wagon.”

  “Why?” Ben pressed.

  “There’s not enough room. Besides, she could be sleeping.”

  Travis leaned real close to Retta. “You’re plannin’ to show a coup stick to someone who’s asleep?”

  Ben scooted close to the other side of her. “Sounds like an adventure cookin’ to me.”

  “So we’ll just tag along,” Travis declared.

  Ben shoved his hands in the front pockets of his ducking trousers. “You don’t mind if I wear this headband awhile, do you?”

  Retta giggled at the feather hanging down over Ben’s ear. “No, I don’t mind. As long as you don’t mind.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Mr. Bouchet says a single feather swooping to the front with those colored beads means the wearer is an unmarried girl ... in case someone’s looking for a wife.”

  Travis hooted.

  Retta giggled some more.

  Ben jerked the headband off and tossed it to her. “I reckon I’ll wear my hat.” Then he turned back to her with a frown. “Did he really say that?”

  Retta put the headband back into the valise. “Actually no. I just made it up to watch you squirm. But it might mean that. Wouldn’t you like to know what it means before you wear it?”

  “Yeah, I reckon,” Ben mumbled. “But we’re still goin’ with you to Gilson’s.”

  “Have you got any sulfur matches?” she asked.

  “Yeah, I’ve got three,” Ben reported. “Why?”

  Retta raised her round nose and blinked her eyelids. “You certainly can’t have much of an adventure on the prairie if it’s pitch-black.”

  “I knew it.” Ben yelped. “You’ve got something stirrin’. Where do we meet?”

  “At Gilson’s.”

  “Is this a scavenger hunt, Retta?” Travis asked.

  “Sort of.”

  Ben followed her toward the front of the wagon. “What’re we lookin’ for?”

  Retta swung the coup stick in a circle. “Gilson.”

  As Ben and Travis trotted away, Retta crawled up into the wagon. Two people sat next to her sleeping mother. “Andrew? ... Oh...”

  Her sister glared at her.

  “Hi, Brian. I thought you were my brother.”

  “Brian came to sit with me. Isn’t that nice?” Lerryn said in her prim and proper voice.

  “Yeah ... I think so.”

  Lerryn folded her hands across her chest and tilted her head. “What do you want?”

  Retta looked down at the front of her own dress. “I just wanted to know if Mama is okay.” Lerryn has beautiful fingers. She has beautiful everything.

  “She woke up, and we visited for a while. Then she took some water and went back to sleep.”

  “I reckon that’s good for her.” Retta inched a little closer to her mother. “I wonder if you hurt as bad when you’re asleep?”

  “Maybe the body still hurts, but the mind doesn’t,” Brian offered.

  She scooted a little closer. “Yeah, I reckon.”

  “Retta, I’ll watch Mama for a while longer. You go play with your friends if you want to.” Lerryn dismissed her with a sweep of her hand.

  Retta started to the front of the wagon and then turned back. “But who will go fetch Papa if Mama wakes up in bad straits?”

  “I will,” Brian volunteered.

  “I’ll be up by Gilson’s if you need me.”

  “Bye, Retta,” Lerryn said.

  “Bye.”

  She climbed back down, snatched up her coup stick, and trotted along the line of dimly lit wagons.

  “Retta.”

  She stopped running when she heard the voice. “William?”

  There was a giggle in the shadows.

  “Eh ... Amy is here with me,” her brother admitted. “Yeah, so I noticed.”

  “Hi, Retta.”

  “Hi, Amy.”

  “Is Mama still sleepin’?” William asked.

  “Yes. You know how tired she’s been. It’s good for her.” Amy’s arm was tucked into her brother’s.

  “Is big sis with her?” he asked.

  Retta watched her brother. “Yes, and Brian is there, too.” The problem with having handsome brothers, it made all the other boys look so plain.

  “Maybe me and Amy can go spell them off,” William offered.

  Retta glanced back down the row of wagons. “That would be nice.... Eh ... I’m sure they will be pleased to see you.” I know, Lord, I know. Lerryn will hate me for it, but I’m doing this for her own good.

  “Where are you headed?” William asked her.

  Retta pointed up the line of wagons. “I’ll be up by Gilson O’Day’s.”

  “What’s the coup stick for?” he challenged.

  “We’re going on something like a scavenger hunt.”

  “Go on, little sis, and play.” He turned to Amy. “When you’re young, every day is an adventure.”

  “William Henry Barre,” Amy purred, “are you telling me you’re too old for an adventure?”

  Retta rolled her eyes and trotted up the line.

  When she got to Gilson’s wagon, Christen waited with Ben and Travis. “They said you invited them.”

  “They invited themselves,” Retta said, “but I figu
re the more people we have, the deeper into the prairie we can go.”

  “You didn’t wear your buckskin dress.”

  “There was no place to change. Brian is helping Lerryn watch Mama.”

  “And who is watching them?”

  “William and Amy will be real soon.” Retta stared out into the dark. “Where’s Joslyn?”

  Christen pointed to the shadows behind her. “Here she comes... with Ansley.”

  Retta turned to see two girls in long dresses trot toward them.

  “Were you going to do something fun and not invite me, Coretta Barre?” Ansley called out.

  Retta huddled them all together. “It’s not exactly a fun excursion, Ansley, but I’m glad you’re here. We can use the help.”

  “What’s this all about?” Ansley smiled. “Whose team am I on? I’ll be with Ben and Travis.”

  “We’re all on Gilson’s team,” Retta replied.

  After explaining the situation, Retta led them out into the darkness of the prairie carrying their candles. When they reached the point where the wagon lights dimmed in the distance, she halted them near a sand berm. “This is Christen’s post,” she announced.

  “For which I’m very glad,” Christen replied. “This is about as far away from the wagons as I want to be.”

  They left Christen and hiked farther into the darkness.

  “Gilson?” Retta called out. “Can you hear me? We’ve come to find you.”

  “Don’t you reckon she’s out farther than this?” Travis asked.

  “I suppose.”

  “Who’s next to be stationed?” Ansley asked.

  “Ask Retta. She’s the leader of this troop,” Ben replied.

  Lord, it’s funny. I've never been the leader of anything before. Especially when it comes to boys ... and girls like Ansley. I don’t even know if I know how to lead. She waved her coup stick like a teacher’s pointer. “Well ... let’s have, um, Travis next, then Joslyn, then Ben, then Ansley, and I’ll be last.”

  “Why am I way out there?” Ansley protested.

  “Because you’re the only one who carries a gun.”

  “Here, take the gun. I don’t want it. I’ll stand between Travis and Ben,” Ansley insisted.