A Dream for Tomorrow

by Melody Carlson

“The good Lord gave me my piano in order to worship him. Neither you nor anyone else can force me to leave it behind.”

  Elizabeth pulled her driving gloves out from where they were tucked in her belt, tugging them on in anger. She pointed a finger at Mrs. Taylor. “The very least you can do is to get out of this wagon on the upgrades and walk,” she said loudly. “It won’t make up for the weight of the piano, but it might help.”

  “Oh, ye of little faith.” Mrs. Taylor’s lips curled into a smug smile.

  Elizabeth watched speechlessly as Mr. Taylor climbed onto his wagon with a somewhat grim expression. With her fists tightly clenched, she watched as the clergyman grasped the reins. What had her father said to him—and why had it made no difference? She glanced over her shoulder to see that Asa was storming off toward his own wagon. He looked as frustrated as she felt. She could just imagine what he’d say to her mother.

  Elizabeth peered up at Mr. Taylor. “Can’t you please talk some sense into your wife?” she pleaded. “Before you injure your team with this overly heavy load?”

  He turned now, looking down upon her with surprisingly compassionate brown eyes. “I’m sorry, my dear, but my wife’s mind seems to be made up on this matter. Now, if you’ll please excuse us…” He gave her a weak smile as he released the wagon brake. “We do not want to keep the rest of the wagons waiting. Do travel safely, Miss Elizabeth.”

  How could he treat this so lightly? Too angry to respond in a gracious manner, she turned on the heel of her boot and marched back to her own wagon. As she climbed into the seat, untying the reins, she was thankful that her children had already left with Brady and Flax. They planned to walk up ahead, hunting for wild leeks and strawberries and collecting firewood for the evening meal.

  “Dear Lord!” Elizabeth spoke loudly. “I am so angry I could spit!” Then, embarrassed at her unwomanly confession, she asked God to help her to control her unbridled anger toward the Taylors. Perhaps in time she’d be able to forgive them, but right now she was still too vexed. She knew she would be unable to pray for their safety as she’d been doing the past few days. But according to Mrs. Taylor, they didn’t need anyone’s help or advice—God would take care of everything for them. Maybe God would send a team of angels to carry the Taylors over the North Platte when it was time to cross too. Seeing the Taylors were several wagon lengths ahead of her, Elizabeth released her brake and snapped her reins. Thankfully tomorrow was Sunday, and they would change the wagon order in their unit on Monday…and then someone else could follow the foolish Taylors!

  She could hear the rumble of thunder in the distance as the usual afternoon clouds gathered on the western horizon. In a couple of hours, just like clockwork, there would probably be another downpour. Until then, she hoped they would make good time. Her father had told her that the first hour would be on fairly level ground, and then they would have a rather steep climb with some switchbacks alongside the river. But if all went well, by the end of the day they should reach the Red Buttes, where they would camp for the night. And the plan was that their unit should complete their final crossing of the North Platte River by tomorrow afternoon or Monday morning at the latest.

  Elizabeth knew that the North Platte was running fast right now due to the rains, but Matthew had assured them that this was normal for this time of year. “Nothing to be worried about,” he’d said last night. “Not as long as we do it right.” He’d pointed at his new bride. “And no jumping into the river this time.”

  Jess had simply laughed, but Elizabeth could see a trace of fear in her eyes. And truth be told, river crossings made Elizabeth nervous too. Ever since Jess’ frighteningly close call when she was swept down the South Platte River, Elizabeth had insisted that Ruth and Flax were to ride in the back of the wagon when fording even the smallest of streams. And although Elizabeth did the actual driving, Brady always rode next to her, ready to assist if needed. And always before crossing, a prayer for safe passage was said by her father.

  Elizabeth’s anger toward the Taylors had mostly evaporated by the time they began to ascend the switchbacks. Now she focused on her own team, patiently urging them forward as she maintained a safe distance from the Taylors. She was determined not to pay much heed to the wagon ahead of her. She obviously could do nothing about it now, and there seemed no point in fretting over it. At least Mrs. Taylor was walking. A small consolation, but it was something. Perhaps Captain Brownlee would talk some sense into them before the river crossing.

  With one eye on the gathering clouds and occasional flashes of lightning, and the other eye on the backs of her faithful team, she continued to speak to Bella and Beau as she always did on the roughest parts of the journey. Praising their good work, she used her voice to calm them and offset the rumbles and booms of thunder, which steadily grew louder and closer. She knew that the elegant black Percherons were by nature sensible horses, and as long as they remained calm and steady, the less predictable mules should follow. Not all teams were this dependable, especially in thunderstorms.

  Elizabeth was relieved that her children had become somewhat accustomed to these mountain storms now. JT actually enjoyed them. And for her brother’s sake, Ruth tried to appear brave. The captain had assured everyone that they were just as safe outside their wagons as hunkered down in back. Perhaps more so. As long as they avoided standing under a lone tree, their chances of being struck by lightning were slim to nil.

  Elizabeth’s wagon began turning into a switchback. She usually didn’t allow herself to look down at the raging river below them. Nor did her team seem too interested. Thankful that the surface of this road was still dry and somewhat stable, she looked ahead in time to see that the Taylors’ wagon was just approaching the next switchback.

  As usual in these challenging climbs, the Taylors’ wagon was moving awkwardly. It lurched and jerked, moving forward a bit and then stopping abruptly. It even rolled backward at times, which meant that Mr. Taylor wasn’t handling the brake correctly and that the team was stressed. Hearing the constant crack of Mr. Taylor’s whip, whether it was on the backs of the animals or just over their heads, was unsettling. In her mind’s eye she could see the nervous mules jerking and pulling against each other, sweating and stumbling, with their ears pressed flat and the look of fear in their eyes.

  Despite her anger at the Taylors, she felt pity for their overworked animals, and with her focus back on her own team, she began to pray. She asked God to help those poor mules to survive their foolish owners’ ignorance. Elizabeth had been raised to respect livestock, particularly equines. Certainly she knew animals were not superior to humans, but she took her responsibility of caring for them seriously. And certainly, being a farmer, she also understood that animals were expendable. Cows, sheep, pigs, chickens…all were sources of food and income, and when the time came to butcher, she didn’t weep or cringe. However, she did insist it be done humanely.

  Elizabeth was distracted from her own team by a woman’s loud scream. When she looked up, she could not believe what she was seeing in front of her. The Taylors’ wagon was teetering on the outer edge of the switchback with two wheels hanging over the side and crumbling rock falling down the ravine.

  “Dear God!” Elizabeth snapped the reins, urging her team forward.

  “Help us!” screamed Mrs. Taylor as she lifted her black skirt, running toward the wagon as it slowly tumbled over the edge of the road and disappeared with a loud crash…and then an eerie silence.

  “Oh, dear God!” Elizabeth continued pressing her team forward at a steady pace. “Please, help poor Mr. Taylor!”

  When she reached a safe stopping place on the road, Elizabeth firmly pushed on the brakes, tied off the reins, and jumped down, running breathlessly to Mrs. Taylor, who was standing on the edge of the precipice, peering down with her hands clasped to her chin and a look of horror in her eyes.

  “Oh, no!” Elizabeth peered down to the bottom of the gorge to see a jumble of broken wagon and debris spread along the ro
cky bank of the fast-flowing river.

  “Horace!” screamed Mrs. Taylor. “Horace, can you hear me? Answer me!”

  The only sound was the rushing water and the thump of footsteps as others in the wagon train ran up to join them.

  “What happened?” Matthew demanded breathlessly.

  “The Taylors’ wagon!” Elizabeth gasped, pointing down to the wreckage. “Mr. Taylor…his wagon…they fell!”

  “Help him,” pleaded Mrs. Taylor. “Please, send someone down to help him. Hurry!”

  “Take her to your wagon,” Matthew instructed Elizabeth.

  “Come on,” Elizabeth said gently to Mrs. Taylor.

  “No!” Mrs. Taylor said. “I can’t go.”

  Matthew began shouting orders at the other men now, telling them to get ropes and winches and horses. Suddenly everyone was scrambling.

  “Come on,” Elizabeth urged her again, this time wrapping her arm around Mrs. Taylor’s shoulders and moving her away.

  “I can’t leave him,” Mrs. Taylor muttered.

  “Get her out of here,” Asa shouted at Elizabeth.

  “We need to get out of their way.” Now Elizabeth firmly guided her away from the edge of the precipice. “So they can rescue Mr. Taylor.”

  Mrs. Taylor looked at Elizabeth with frightened eyes. “They will rescue him?”

  “Of course,” Elizabeth said soothingly as she led her to the wagon. “Come with me…we can pray together.”

  “Yes, yes…we will pray.” Mrs. Taylor was shaking now. By the time they reached the wagon, the old woman’s face was as white as chalk, and Elizabeth could tell she was close to fainting. Leaning her against the wagon to steady herself, Elizabeth lifted down one of the chairs, helping Mrs. Taylor to sit. Then she got a tin cup and filled it with water. “Here, drink this.”

  Clearly in shock, Mrs. Taylor said nothing as she slowly sipped the water. Elizabeth could hear the men’s voices yelling back and forth as they tried to figure out what to do and how to do it. Matthew sent one of the boys to get Elizabeth’s riding horse, Molly. It wasn’t long until Elizabeth’s mother, worried that something had happened to her daughter, joined them as well. Elizabeth quietly explained to her about what had happened.

  “Oh, you poor dear,” Clara said to Mrs. Taylor.

  Elizabeth pulled down another chair for her mother. “Here, you sit with her. You can both pray while I go find out how they are doing.”

  “Yes,” Mrs. Taylor said eagerly. “Go and see if Horace is all right.”

  Elizabeth just nodded, but it seemed unlikely that anyone could survive such a fall. Even so, she prayed as she walked over to the crowd of women and children who were watching as their men used ropes and teams.

  “Your brother is at the end of that rope,” Flo Flanders informed Elizabeth.

  “Oh, dear!” Elizabeth didn’t like to think of Matthew dangling over the edge of that precipice. But seeing her father and Bert Flanders managing the horses that they were using to lower her brother, she felt a little more confident.

  “Matthew is so brave,” Mahala said.

  “I sent Walter to get the captain,” Flo told Elizabeth.

  “Good thinking.”

  “Do you think he survived?” Flo quietly asked her.

  Elizabeth just shook her head.

  “It’s because of Mrs. Taylor and that stupid piano,” Mahala said bitterly. “If her husband is dead, it’s her own fault.”

  “Mahala!” Flo frowned at her eldest daughter.

  “It’s true.” Mahala pointed at Elizabeth. “Hannah said she heard you and Asa talking to them earlier. But they wouldn’t listen.”

  “We did encourage them to leave the piano behind,” Elizabeth admitted. “Many times. But it’s unkind to blame Mrs. Taylor for this…especially considering she has lost everything…perhaps even her husband.”

  “Even if he survived that fall, which seems unlikely, he’ll be severely injured.” Flo shook her head. “Too bad they didn’t dump that piano when they had the chance.”

  Belinda and Amelia Bramford joined them now. Mahala filled them in on the accident with descriptive details, but when the girls started to go over to see, Elizabeth stopped them. “We need to stay out of the way of the rescue team.”

  Just then Captain Brownlee arrived on horseback. First he surveyed the wreckage and the rescue efforts, and then he came over to the women. “Although this is all very unfortunate, just as I’ve told the men, all those who aren’t directly helping with the rescue need to get back to their wagons and continue on over the pass.” He pointed to the darkening sky. “That storm will be here soon, and the going doesn’t get any easier with a downpour.” He turned his horse toward the back of the train, yelling a command for all to hear. “Wagons ho!”

  “I need to go to my wagon,” Elizabeth told them. To her relief, she saw Brady and her children rushing back to find out what happened. Without going into much detail, she filled them in and then instructed the children to hurry. “JT, you go and ride with Jess,” she told him. “Tell her that Matthew is helping rescue Mr. Taylor. And Brady, can you drive for my mother while my father helps with the rescue?”

  “Sho ’nuff.” He nodded eagerly as they hurried back to her wagon, where Elizabeth explained the captain’s instructions to her mother.

  “Mrs. Taylor can ride with me,” she told Clara.

  Mrs. Taylor tried to object, stating she didn’t want to leave her husband behind, but she was clearly in no condition to remain there.

  “Help me get her into the back of the wagon,” Elizabeth said to Brady and Ruth and her mother. It wasn’t easy, but they eventually got Mrs. Taylor settled on the bed and covered with a quilt with Ruth sitting faithfully by her side. And before long Elizabeth was back to driving her team around the dangerous switchbacks, trying not to look down and praying for the safety of her family and for poor Mr. Taylor. However—and she hoped she was wrong—she had a strong suspicion that Mr. Taylor was already making his own appeals to God in his maker’s presence.

  Chapter Five

  Elizabeth was driving her wagon around the last switchback when the dark clouds broke open and big fat raindrops began to strike the canvas so loudly it sounded as if handfuls of gravel were being pelted down on them. Lightning flashed and thunder crashed, but her team plodded steadfastly along, following the Schneiders’ wagon up the trail toward a high meadow. Although the animals’ heads were down, it was almost as if they sensed their workday was nearly done. They knew they’d soon be fed and watered and allowed to rest for the night.

  “We’re almost there,” she called back into the confines of the wagon, peeking to see that Mrs. Taylor still appeared to be resting quietly. Ruth, with her doll in her lap, was sitting patiently nearby, ready to play nursemaid if needed. Whether the old woman was merely asleep or actually unconscious due to the shock of her ordeal, Elizabeth was unsure. She was simply grateful that she wasn’t giving Ruth any problems.

  As she drove she tried to imagine the implications of today’s disaster. Mr. Taylor seemed likely to be deceased. In that case, someone would have to look after Mrs. Taylor. And if by some miracle Mr. Taylor had survived that horrible fall, he would need even more care than his wife—and they would both need food, shelter, and transportation. As sorry as she felt for the Taylors, she also felt fresh anger simmering inside of her. Their foolishness had put everyone in a very difficult position.

  Even now, as she pulled on James’ old oilskin barn coat and then maneuvered her wagon into the circle that was slowly forming for their unit, she thought of Matthew and her father out there risking their lives in a thunderstorm on a dangerous ravine…and for what? To pull out a dead man’s body? To rescue a few food supplies for Mrs. Taylor’s benefit? All because a foolish, stubborn woman had refused to relinquish an out-of-tune piano?

  “You stay here with Mrs. Taylor,” she called to Ruth as she put on the brakes. “I’ll see to the team.” She climbed down, pulling the oilskin coat more
tightly around her as she started to remove the heavy harnesses from the team. It was still raining steadily, but the lightning and thunder had moved on by now. She tried not to feel angry as she cared for her animals. Normally, JT and Brady would be available to help with this chore, but now they were busy helping Jess and Clara…all because of Mrs. Taylor’s selfishness.

  As she struggled to free the horses from the gear, Elizabeth silently prayed to God, asking him to help her to get over her anger toward Mrs. Taylor. As she led the pair of Percherons over to a line that Jeremiah Bramford was just setting, she tried to remember what Mrs. Taylor was going through. Elizabeth knew what it was like to lose a beloved husband.

  “Let me help you with those,” Jeremiah offered.

  “Thanks,” she told him. “But I’m sure you have your hands full too.” She had noticed that Will and Hugh remained at the scene of the accident to help as well.

  “It’s no problem,” he assured her as he took her horses, nodding to the other animals that were already secured to the line. “Julius and I worked together.”

  She smiled at him. “Thank you.”

  “I’ve always admired this team.” He stroked Bella’s damp coat. “They’re the most beautiful horses I’ve ever seen.”

  “Well, thank you very much. I like them!”

  “Dad says you and your family raised horses in Kentucky.”

  She nodded. “Yes, but mostly we were farmers.”

  He lowered his voice now. “Do you think Mr. Taylor is dead?”

  She sadly shook her head. “I don’t know. But I am praying for them both.”

  “Well, go ahead and get the rest of your team,” he told her. “I’ll take care of these two.”

  Fortunately, JT and Brady soon arrived, and Elizabeth learned that JT had ridden with Clara and Brady when it was decided that a wagon should remain behind and Jess volunteered. Elizabeth was glad to have help with the end-of-the-day chores. Whether it was the rain or the aftermath of the accident, everything seemed to take longer than usual, but eventually Elizabeth and her mother had a fire going and supper cooking. Ruth was still playing nursemaid to Mrs. Taylor, who was either sleeping or simply unable to move. Clara took a cup of chamomile tea to her and returned with a worried expression. “Mrs. Taylor seems unwell.”