by Ward, Marsha
Julia sat on the seat of the wagon, hearing the stern command of her husband not to look back, but her body turned with a will of its own, to look at her home for one last time. She watched in fascination as the flames caught on the roof of the house. The fire rose in fingers of red and orange, falsifying the dawn and lighting up the bulk of Massanutten Mountain. Then her trance was broken by Rod’s hand on her arm.
“Julie, don’t!” he pleaded, and she turned around on the seat.
“Rod, it’s my home,” she said, feeling tears run down her cheeks. She drew herself up, setting her back rigidly against the glow of the fire.
Rod pulled on the lines, bringing the team to a halt. He set his jaw and put his arm around his wife. “It’ll be ashes and rubble soon, just like the rest of the buildings, and we must be on our way.” He looked down at her head, made his voice rough, and continued. “Let’s go on, Julie. We’ll get through this pain.”
“I know,” she whispered.
~~~
Julianna huddled with her sister in the back of the wagon, numb from the long journey down the Valley Pike. She could not recall a more dismal experience than sitting in the wagon hour upon hour, cramped and jostled by the churn and the provision box. Their father had cautioned them to stay in the wagon, for he wanted to travel as fast as possible this first day.
She eased her muscles the best she could, and wondered how soon they would stop for the night. Passing scenery no longer amused her, and she wanted to stretch her legs.
“Jule, do you remember Uncle Jonathan?” Marie asked.
Julianna turned to look at her older sister. “I remember his beard. It always scratched me when he picked me up.” She yawned. “But that was such a long time ago.”
“I remember when he put his box on the mantel. I didn’t want him to go back to Colorado.” Marie sighed. “It’s been so long since his last letter came. I reckon that’s because of the difficulty lately.”
“Marie, do you reckon he could be—dead?”
“No. Not Uncle Jonathan. Ma says the mail’s been cut off with all the fighting. She says we’ll catch up with him sooner or later.”
Julianna yawned again, and wished Pa would make a rest stop.
~~~
The light of the afternoon sun slanted sideways through the trees when Rod sighted the meadow. A small stream ran through it, and oak limbs were blown down in the surrounding woods. They didn’t need anything else for a campground.
The wagon came even with the edge of the forest and Rod pulled his team off the road. He drove on a ways, back into the meadow where the forest put out a feeler into the grassland. Hauling on the lines, Rod stopped the wagon close to the stream. The others followed, stopping their wagons alongside his. Rod jumped down from the seat and helped Julia climb down from the seat as the men from the other wagons gathered.
“We’ll make our first camp here, with two small fires, and two guards out toward the road.”
“You’re not still in the Army, Rod,” interrupted Rand Hilbrands.
“Caution pays, Rand. We don’t know who might follow us, or when they’d come.”
“Not for a couple of days. You must be joking,” Rand scoffed.
“I burned my house,” Rod reminded him. “Most of us are paroled soldiers. There may be someone who’ll object to our leaving.”
“There’s still soldiers going north,” Chester said. “Some I’ve seen are hungry and mean. You can’t trust them not to take what little we’ve salvaged. I’ll take the first watch, Rod.”
Rod laid his hand on Chester’s shoulder and gripped it. “Thank you. Rulon will join you. Somebody will bring your supper, so don’t get spooky and shoot them.”
Carl got down from the last wagon and helped Ida Hilbrands to the ground. “Now you, Missy,” he said, and swung down Eliza, her youngest sister. The girls gave their thanks, and walked off in the direction of their family wagon.
Even though their wedding had been postponed, Ida had insisted that she should ride on the seat of the freight wagon with Carl so they could “get to know each other better.” Her mother agreed, as long as she took small Eliza along for “company.”
Carl stretched, then shook out his tired arms. He hadn’t driven a team in nearly three years, and today’s trip had been extra long. He took his Spencer rifle from under the wagon seat, sought out his father, and volunteered to get firewood. Being still unused to the company of women since his war service, he was a little shy of Ida, with her head tossing and giggles, and was anxious to be off by himself in the woods for a while.
He jumped across the creek and strode into the trees. Carefully, he circled back toward the road and scouted the area, checking for signs of other travelers or pursuit. When he was satisfied that the group was alone, he returned to the vicinity of the camp and began to gather deadfalls and dried limbs for fuel. He arranged his load to leave his right hand free to carry the Spencer, and turned back to the camp. As he came out of the woods, he noticed Ida standing on the bank of the stream, waiting for him.
“Yoo-hoo,” she called. “I’ve come to help you gather wood.”
Carl approached the bank and grinned. “Seems you’re on the wrong bank. I’ve got plenty, thanks.”
“Oh-h-h,” Ida pouted. “I couldn’t get across this river.”
Carl laughed. “Well, I can’t let you go back empty-handed.” He shifted his load to get a chunk of wood into his other hand, then awkwardly tossed the piece across the creek. It hit the bank and bounced into the water, and Ida scrambled after it, lost her footing on the slick bank, and landed in the water with a little cry.
Carl dropped his load and waded into the creek to retrieve her, struggling to stifle his laughter. Gathering her up in his arms, he became conscious of how the wet bodice of her dress accented her shapely form. His body reacted, and uncomfortable, he looked away from Ida and hurried to get her out of the stream.
“Are you hurt?” he asked, placing her on the bank. He stepped back and linked his hands together in front of his body.
She sighed. “Only my pride.”
“You’d best get back to camp and dry off. You could take the ague, wet like that.” Carl turned and splashed back through the creek for the wood, grateful the water was cold.
~~~
After supper, Rod approached Carl and squatted on the ground beside him.
“You and James take the second watch. Get some sleep, and Rulon will wake you. I gave him first watch so he could sleep the rest of the night through.”
“He seems much improved, Pa.”
“There’s no quit in Rulon, not even for a Yankee mortar shell. I can’t figure why his wife’s feeling so poorly, though.”
“Woman’s complaint?”
“Woman’s ways, likely. Changeable creatures, they are. Take your ma. She was colder than wet socks when I told her I sold the farm, but she calmed down, and took right to the victual making and all. Except this morning, she was broke up some about leaving. She didn’t like to see the house burning.”
“You told her not to look, Pa.”
“Well, she did.”
“There ain’t no accounting for women, Pa. I can’t figure out Ida Hilbrands.”
Rod chuckled. “I’ve seen the way she acts. She ain’t had a man to work her womanly wiles on since she grew up and learned them, son.” He placed his hand on Carl’s shoulder. “You be cautious. Don’t let her work you into a dither. If you fool with her before you have the marrying words said, Rand will take a shotgun to you. Mind my words.”
“I will remember. Goodnight, Pa.”
Carl crossed over to the Owen wagon and got his bedroll out of the back. He picked his way through the sleeping camp to the spot where James was already stretched out in his bedding. Carl unrolled his own blankets on the ground. He sat and pulled off his boots, then lay back and drew the covers around him.
“Night, James.”
“Wake me when Rulon comes,” James mumbled.
As
he drifted off to sleep, Carl recalled the feel of Ida in his arms, the sight of her clinging dress. He groaned as his body betrayed his good sense, and half-woke James, who stirred in his sleep.
Carl sat up and shook his head to clear out the thought of Ida.
“Remember what your daddy said,” he told himself, turned over, and eventually went to sleep.
Chapter 6
The city of Kansas lay ahead, hot in the sun, as Carl drove the freight wagon through the ford at Blue River. Three months of exposure to wind, dust, and sun had weathered his face and forearms to a dark brown. Three months of driving the mule team made it a matter of routine to urge the animals up the riverbank and into the meadow.
Those same three months of Ida Hilbrands’ company had broken through some of Carl’s reserve, and when he had pulled the team to a halt and applied the brake, he stood up, threw off his hat, bent over, and grabbed Ida off the seat. She squealed and grabbed for the wagon, but Carl held her fast and squeezed her.
“Look at that, girl. We made it all the way to the beginning of the Santa Fe Trail, this here town. Purty soon we’ll be on the last leg of the trip.”
“Well, I declare, Carl Owen,” she protested. “You put me down! I don’t hanker to fall off this big old wagon.”
“Hush, I ain’t going to drop you.” Carl let go of Ida’s waist with his right arm to prove his strength, holding her with his left.
“Put me down! I’ll have Papa speak to you.” Ida struggled and kicked against Carl. “You ain’t to be trusted!”
“Ida, you make me laugh. Your pa has trusted me for three months now with no complaints, and you been left in my entire care and keeping the whole time.”
“You put me down, or I’ll go ride with my mama and the other girls. I would be hurt real bad was you to drop me.”
Carl frowned and eased her down to the seat. “Go along if you care to. I’ll not stop you.” He hoped she would ignore his retort and say something bright and witty, but she flounced down on the seat beside her little sister and folded her arms across her chest.
He swung down from the tall wagon, then put up his arms to help Ida get down. She was gone, climbing down the other side, taking Eliza with her. He fisted his hand and punched the wagon rim, then shook his hand and sucked his sore knuckles.
“This is a fine mess,” he muttered, scuffing his boot through the dust. He sighed, and wondered what he’d done wrong.
Ida was fun to be with, most of the time. She excited his imagination, calling his attention to fantasy details in passing clouds, and had been an amusing and entertaining companion through the long, wet days of flight through Kentucky. Ida had kept him awake while he drowsed his way up the old King’s Trace in eastern Missouri, feverish and weak. She had made him feel like a man, and many times he had had to dig his heels in and think “whoa” before he grabbed her and stole a kiss. But times like these confused him, with Ida willful and quarrelsome. He wondered what kind of a trick she was playing on his this time. Finally, he shrugged his shoulders and turned away from the wagon to find his pa.
As he walked along, a female voice called his name, and he stopped to find the speaker. Glancing around, he saw Ellen Bates peering from the back of her father’s wagon. She was on her knees, searching for something, and her sunbonnet hung down her back, letting her auburn hair spill over her shoulders. Carl thought how pretty and peaceful she looked, and wished that Ida were as gentle.
Grinning, Carl approached the wagon. “Hello, Miss Ellen. Seems like forever since we last spoke.”
“There ain’t been much need.” She looked down at her hands. Then she raised her head, looking him straight in the eye. “You been busy, driving that big wagon, and looking after the Hilbrands girls.”
“It’s been a lot of work, getting the knack of it, but I manage pretty well with the mules now. The girls ain’t been too much trouble.”
“Do we make camp here?”
“I was on my way to find out.” Carl noticed for the first time the little flecks of brown in Ellen’s green eyes. “I’ll come back and tell you, if you like.”
“Oh, don’t go to any bother. Likely Pa will come back and tell us.”
“You sure now?” There were also little flecks of brown across the bridge of Ellen’s nose. Sun freckles, like as not, he thought, liking them.
Ellen nodded and disappeared into the wagon.
Hush, she’s a fetching looking girl, he mused, never suspecting the hot tears that she wept onto her blanket at night, raging against Ida’s good fortune.
Carl found his father and asked, “Is this our campground?”
“Howdy, son. No, I want to get closer to town before we settle in, but you can unhitch your mules and water them. By the way, I’m riding in to town later on to get some supplies. I’d be pleased if you boys would ride along with me.”
“Sure, Pa. How much longer you figure before we hit Colorado?”
“If we don’t have no major breakdowns, I reckon we got a month or forty-five days’ travel ahead of us. Git going, son, and tend to your animals.”
“Yes, Pa.” Carl returned to the wagon and unhitched the mules, then drove them down to the river. Albert was there with the loose livestock, and Clay came down the bank with the spare horses.
Carl’s horse, Sherando, caught his master’s scent and tossed his head, whinnying in greeting. Carl waded over to his horse and patted the big gray gelding on the neck.
“Sherando, have you been keeping out of trouble? Hush, I miss riding you, you old war horse!”
Sherando nickered softly, pushing his muzzle into Carl’s chest. Carl took a step backward and kept his balance.
“Oh no you don’t, boy. I’ll take a bath when I’ve got the time.”
Albert came and patted the gray’s flank. “He’s a mighty fine horse, Carl. Why’d you name him ‘Sherando?’ It ain’t a name I ever heard.”
“It’s the name of an old Indian chief, Albert. There’s a legend that the Shenandoah Valley was named after him.”
“An Indian, huh? In the Shenandoah?”
Carl ruffled the boy’s hair. “It’s so, Albert. There used to be Indians all over the woods and valleys, about a hundred years ago.”
Bidding his brother and his horse good-bye, Carl returned to the mules and drove them out of the water. He took them to the wagon and re-hitched them. Somewhere from his belly came the pinching cramps of hunger, and he climbed up to the wagon seat to retrieve a packet of cornbread from underneath.
By gum, I never figured to eat cornbread again once I left the army, he thought, then shame swept over him as he remembered that he would be starving now if it hadn’t been for his mother’s quick thinking and courage. He finished the bread in silence.
“Tarl, lift me up,” a small person with a lisp demanded.
Shoot, she sounds just like Ida, he thought, helping Eliza into the wagon.
“Where’s your sister?”
“She’s helping Mama. I’m ‘posed to tell you that India is coming with us now.”
Carl groaned. Ida was making good her threat. “Girls!” he exclaimed, and dropped to the ground, leaving the child on the seat.
He found Ida next to her father’s wagon, doing nothing more needful than rearranging her hair. Silently, he caught her by the wrist and pulled her along with him, out into the meadow, away from the wagons. She didn’t resist him physically, but protested a little with squeaks and squeals as they went along.
Carl stopped suddenly and spun around to face her, gripping her by the shoulders. “It’s time we stopped the game-playing, Ida. You started it, but I’m ending it my way.” He bent down and kissed her full on the lips. “That’s how I feel about you. My pa arranged our betrothal to suit himself, but I like you a lot, and I reckon I want you for a wife. We can wed once we’re settled in Colorado, but I’m telling you now, you stop picking fights with me!”
Ida stood rooted to the ground, looking up into Carl’s eyes, and he watched the changi
ng expressions on her face. He waited as she thought over what he had said, still holding her shoulders.
“I’m sorry I riled you,” she blurted out. “I’ll be a good wife to you.” Ida gave a little gasp and clapped her hand over her mouth. “Carl, why don’t we get married in the town? I know Papa will be much happier, and Mama will be glad to see me married safe.”
“My pa wants me to ride with him into town in a little while. I’ll see what I can arrange.”
“Oh, Carl. It’ll be so much fun!” She turned and ran back towards the wagon, and Carl slowly followed, his head reeling and his heart thumping in his chest.
~~~
“It surely does feels fine to ride this horse again,” Carl said to James as they followed their father and younger brothers into town. “I don’t know as I would favor becoming a freighter for good. I would miss riding.”
On his other side, Rulon rolled his shoulders, stretching them in a circle. “I’m surely glad I’ve got well enough to ride. Mary gets a bee in her bonnet from time to time, and it’s a relief to get out of the wagon for a while.”
“The old married man,” James laughed. “Tell me, what makes her so touchy?”
“Why, she’s making us up another young’un.” Rulon’s grin almost split his face in two.
“You don’t say! Rulon, who would’ve figured you mended so quick?” James rode his horse up by Rulon and punched him lightly on the shoulder.
Rulon slugged him back. “Keep your nose wiped, little brother. Your time will come soon enough.”
James made a growling sound deep in his throat. “I’m none too happy with Pa’s meddling. If it weren’t for Ma, I would have stayed behind. I’ll never see Miss Jessica again.”
Rulon reached out and patted James’ shoulder. “I’m sorry your plans got thrown away, brother. It’s hard to take leave of such good friends. Our family has to stay together to survive, though. Pa’s right about that.”
James only grunted and made a dour face.