Cassandra Austin

by Trusting Sarah

  Rice brought the teams in, and Milburn came to help hitch them up. Sarah wondered if she should offer to help or take over the breakfast so Eli could. She wished someone would tell her what she was expected to do. Questions formed in her mind, but Eli’s closed expression kept them there.

  When Milburn and Rice came to the fire, Eli served their breakfast. “Can Miss Sarah ride with me?” Rice asked, passing his plate for more.

  Milburn laughed. “I imagine Eli wants to talk to her about her duties, Rice. Maybe another day.”

  Sarah glanced from Rice’s frown to Eli’s scowl and felt as bad as Rice. She tried to be more careful not to show it.

  It was more than an hour, however, before she had to climb onto the wagon seat with Eli. Milburn called a meeting to explain the route by army road to Fort Kearny and announce the order of wagons, describing the rotation system that would keep any one person from always having the dusty rear position.

  He introduced the Reverend Fleenor, a young man with an unruly shock of dark hair who invited everyone to worship services on Sundays.

  “Hold on a minute!” A hard-faced, stocky man pushed his way through the crowd. “I don’t got time to waste while the Reverend prays for our souls. I say we move as far and fast as we can.”

  There was a murmur in the crowd, of assent or dissent, it was hard to tell. Milburn raised his hand. “We’ll avoid longer delays if we keep wagons and harnesses in good condition. Besides, both man and beast need rest. We’ll stop on Sundays if we can.”

  The authority in his voice made the man back down. Sarah watched him join two other hard cases. The youngest sported a black eye. From a brawl, she imagined.

  Finally, Eli helped Sarah onto the lead wagon. He seated himself beside her and waited. It wasn’t long before Milburn waved his hat in the air. Eli hollered at the oxen, cracking a whip above their backs, and the wagon moved forward.

  Off to their right, another train was preparing to pull out. A lone wagon was already ahead of them. Sarah breathed deeply, taking in the crisp spring morning. Birds were singing, and an occasional wildflower peeked among the prairie grasses.

  She was leaving the states behind. Leaning out the wagon to look behind them, she could see Fort Leavenworth, with its flag catching the breeze, and the town across the river. There were clusters of wagons still behind them and thirty-six wagons following Milburn into the unknown.

  “Ya wishin’ ya’d stayed back there?” Eli asked.

  “No. I just want to remember.”

  Eli glanced at the pretty face and frowned. In spite of himself, he was curious. Why was she going west, and how did she come to be all alone? The way women liked to talk, he’d bet his back teeth he’d know all about it by the end of the day.

  As the sun rose higher, Sarah donned the sunbonnet she had been holding in her lap. It restricted her view but protected her skin and hair from the relentless rays. It also, she discovered, offered some protection from Eli’s curious glances.

  At midday, Milburn signaled for a stop. Eli angled his wagon off the main track, and Rice pulled his up beside it. The others did the same. They ate a cold meal, checked stock and harnesses and were on their way again in less than an hour.

  Back in the wagon seat, Sarah wondered if she should ask Eli about her duties. She was afraid he would tell her she was useless. She was planning her defense when he broke the silence. “Sarie, what do ya ‘spect Pete hired ya for?”

  She decided not to answer directly. “I intend to earn my keep, but I’ll have to be told what to do.”

  Eli grunted. “Ya think ya know how to take orders, huh?”

  It sounded more like a challenge than a question. She couldn’t imagine anything he could tell her to do that would bother her, except handle the oxen. Their yokes and harnesses looked too complicated to ever understand, and the beasts themselves seemed enormous. Eli watched her, probably taking her silence as hesitation. “Try giving a few orders, sir,” she said.

  Her answer seemed to satisfy him; at least he said nothing more. Sarah was free to enjoy the countryside and think about her future. But the future was too uncertain, and the past always hovered in her mind.

  The past seemed to consist only of Daniel Harrison. She wondered how six years had changed him. No one back home would tell her where he had gone, but then few had been willing to tell her much of anything. Her former jailer had had some information, even some newspapers, but had been quiet about Daniel. That was probably the way his family wanted it.

  She guessed he was doing well. With his father’s money it would be hard not to. Perhaps he was running a branch store or had found something else to interest him, with Papa’s approval.

  She watched storm clouds gather in the southwest, their changing shapes fascinating her. They rolled over one another much as her own memories did. Soon they would become too full of anger and pain to hold it inside any longer.

  She quickly shook off the illusion. She couldn’t start to cry now, not while she sat beside Eli!

  Near a deep ravine where a spring-fed creek watered a stand of cottonwoods, Milburn gave the signal to stop. Eli turned his team in a wide arc and pulled up behind the last wagon, turning again at the last moment to put the oxen outside the circle.

  Eli sent Sarah to gather firewood. She had found only a few skinny sticks when a woman near her gave a cry of alarm. She had tried to balance too much wood in her small arms and was now clutching at the pieces as they tumbled out of her grasp. She stomped her foot in exasperation and threw one last stick after the rest.

  “Let me help you,” Sarah offered.

  The woman brushed at the bits of dirt and bark that clung to her sleeves. The thin fabric of the much mended dress stretched tightly across her round middle. She bent awkwardly to retrieve her load, and Sarah knelt beside her. “Such little pieces of wood will burn quickly, and I didn’t want to make two trips.” When her arms were full and Sarah had helped her to her feet, she added, “I’m Martha Williams.”

  “Sarah Tanton.”

  “I wish I could help you now,” she said as Sarah began to gather sticks for herself.

  Sarah smiled. “I can manage.”

  “I’m just glad there’s wood. I’ve heard out on the prairie we’ll have to burn—” Martha leaned closer, whispering “—buffalo dung.” She wrinkled her nose.

  Sarah eyed her skeptically. They walked back together, parting at the supply wagon.

  “Took ya long enough.” Eli was directly behind her.

  Sarah jumped and dropped the wood, her reaction startling Eli into a hasty step backward. As she gathered the sticks, she stammered, “I’m s-sorry.” She was too embarrassed to look at him.

  “There you go, Eli, frightening women and children again.” Milburn put a hand on her elbow, helping her to her feet.

  “Thank you,” she murmured, and hurried to put the wood where Eli had told her. She wished she had more control over her reactions, but Eli’s tone had sounded too familiar.

  * * *

  The next morning the camp woke to a cold drizzle. Sarah wrapped her blanket around her shoulders and helped Eli begin breakfast. Several of the emigrants had hung tentlike structures from their wagons to shelter their fires. Eli scoffed, saying he would save his for a real rain.

  When breakfast was finished and the wagons hitched, Rice asked, “Miss Sarah can ride with me today, can’t she, Eli?”

  Eli shoved the iron skillet into its place at the back of the wagon and scowled at the grinning boy. “Well now, I guess so. That is if she wants to ride with a no-account boy.”

  Neither the tone nor the words dampened Rice’s spirits. “You do want to ride with me, don’t you, Miss Sarah?”

  Sarah was delighted but tried not to show it for fear of insulting Eli. “I think that would be nice,” she said.

  Milburn rode toward them and drew up near Eli. “No hurry,” he said. “Half the train’s not ready yet.”

  “I’d give ‘em five minutes,” Eli decla
red.

  “Eli, if it was up to you, you’d leave the whole dad-gum train back in Missouri.”

  Eli chuckled as Milburn rode away.

  Even before Milburn gave the signal, Sarah was enjoying the pleasant company. Rice told her about Milburn’s organization of guards and hunters, and how he was the best person to travel west with. “He even tries to see that there’s a doctor with us,” he told her. “That’s why River’s going to meet us at Fort Kearny. Mr. Milburn heard from a doctor wantin’ to go, but he hadn’t showed up yet, so River’s gonna wait for him. River’s another reason this here’s the best train. He’s worked for the army and for a stagecoach line and knows all about Indians. He’s gonna get me a rattlesnake skin for a hatband. I’m his best friend.”

  Sarah smiled at the boy’s enthusiasm. “You’re part of Mr. Milburn’s team, too. How did he find you?”

  Rice grinned proudly. “I’m an orphan, but Mr. Milburn and my grandpa were real good friends. When I lost everybody, Mr. Milburn came. He was going to put me in some sort of school, but I knew all kinds a stories about Mr. Milburn and Grandpa in the war with Mexico, and in the mountains, and I reminded Mr. Milburn about all them times.” He grinned again, and Sarah could imagine how he convinced Mr. Milburn.

  “Anyway, I got to call him Mr. Milburn and do my job the best I can, or he’ll send me off to that school.”

  Sarah looked at the earnest face. “I don’t think you have to worry,” she said.

  * * *

  That evening, while Sarah was peeling potatoes for the stew, a loud voice announced, “I’m Amy. I’m four years old!”

  A little girl with dark curls working their way free from short little braids was standing in front of her. “My mommy’s peeling ‘tatoes, too. Do you have any candy?”

  Sarah smiled. “I’m afraid not, but friends are almost as good, Amy. I’m Sarah. Won’t your mommy be worried?”

  “No,” she said simply.

  Sarah set aside her knife and, wiping her hands on her apron, got to her feet. “I think we better tell her where you are, anyway.” She took the little girl’s hand and let her lead the way to her wagon. Stirring a pot at the fire was the woman Sarah had met gathering wood. “Hello again,” Sarah greeted her.

  “I see you’ve met Amy,” Martha said.

  “See? She’s not worried. I’m big.” Amy skipped to a wooden box and cooed to its contents.

  This earned a quick response from the mother. “Amy! Don’t wake the baby.” With a sigh she turned back to Sarah. “I’ll have to have Tom fix a harness for her, too.” She nodded toward a small boy on the ground, a leather harness and string keeping him within three feet of the wagon wheel.

  Sarah assured her that Amy was welcome to visit anytime but reminded the little girl to tell her mother first. After saying goodbye, she returned to her own wagon.

  “While ya was off socializin’ I had to finish the taters.” Eli kept his eyes on the pot as he spoke.

  Protests formed in Sarah’s mind, but they all sounded like excuses. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  Eli scowled at her. She had already turned and was unpacking the tin bowls. There was something peculiar about a woman who hardly talked at all, especially when she had an opportunity to argue.

  * * *

  “It’s just perfect ‘cause there was more rain here and it’s early in the season and we’re one of the first trains,” Rice reported in one breath. They always rode together now, except for two or three times a day when they would walk, with Rice driving the team from near the rear left ox’s shoulder. The days with the exuberant Rice made up for the evenings with Eli.

  “Rice, what are you talking about?” Sarah asked, smiling.

  “This is Saturday!” Rice explained. At Sarah’s puzzled expression, he continued more slowly. “If there’s enough grass to feed the stock a whole day, we’ll rest tomorrow. Mr. Milburn said we oughta make it to Walnut Creek early. When we camp early, especially on Saturday, there’s a dance!”

  Sarah could tell he thought she was extremely slow, but he had gone from rain to dance in one leap of logic. “Is there one girl in particular you’re hoping to dance with?” she asked.

  He grinned at her. “Naw. I dance with all the girls. I’m good at it. River taught me. He dances with all the girls, too. Can you dance, Miss Sarah?”

  “I used to, but your dancing tonight might be different.”

  Rice shrugged, and Sarah tried to keep her mind from recalling the dances of her past and Daniel’s warm arms around her.

  As Rice had hoped, it was early when Milburn led the train to a grassy area near a creek. As soon as the livestock was turned loose, banjos and fiddles were unpacked, and a small band was formed.

  The dancing began almost immediately. Rice left Eli to grumble over the meal preparations. ”Weren’t you ever young, Eli?” Milburn asked.

  “I can’t say as I was,” Eli replied.

  Sarah watched the dancers. The twirling calico dresses looked like elegant gowns in the waning light. Daniel had loved to dance and had bought her pretty dresses to dance in.

  Milburn pointed a finger at Sarah. “Don’t think you’re going to be left out. There’s always more men than women, and someone will come get you sooner or later.”

  It turned out to be sooner. A man whose wife was already in a round needed a partner and, seeing Sarah, hurried over. While Eli tried to protest, Milburn waved her away.

  The dance sent everyone spinning from one partner to the next with a momentum greater than the music warranted. The music grew louder as the dance brought Sarah closer to the players and faded at the other end of the circle. The campfires seemed to flash by. When she came to Rice, he grinned and whirled her into the arms of her next partner.

  When the music stopped, Sarah found herself standing next to her last partner. “My name’s Gaines,” he said, taking her elbow and pulling her out of the crowd. He was of less than average height but broad and heavily muscled. “Folks call me Bull.” He drew himself up in a way calculated to impress her.

  “Sarah Tanton,” she said. Even in the uncertain light she recognized him as the man who had objected to stopping on Sundays. It was silly since she had just danced with him, but she didn’t want to shake his hand.

  The musicians started again, and he reached out to pull her into the dance. She stepped away. “I have to get back.”

  “Anyone that wants you will know where to find you, missy.” He caught her arm and forced her toward him.

  The tune had no established steps, leaving the dancers free to improvise. Bull kept Sarah on the edge of the crowd. “You traveling with Milburn’s bunch?” If it was a question, he didn’t wait for an answer. “I seen you with him and that old man.” He was leaning closer to be sure she could hear, and Sarah drew away. “You that old man’s daughter or somethin’?”

  Sarah thought of saying she was his wife. It wasn’t natural for her to lie, however, and she told him Milburn had hired her. Seeing his leering face in the light of one of the fires, she regretted her honesty. When the dance was over, she stepped away. “I have to get back.” She wanted to run, but hesitated. The dancing had ruined her sense of direction.

  “I’ll walk you to your wagon, missy,” he said. Again he didn’t wait for a reply but took her elbow and started away. “I’m traveling with my friend, Herman Kirby,” he told her. “Him and my brother’s boy, Nathan. He’s alone now ‘cept for me.” He led her slowly around the circle of wagons, tipping his hat to the folks they passed. “We’re gonna take land in Oregon,” he went on. “Each of us will take a piece, but I’ll have to run it all, ‘cause they ain’t exactly up to it.”

  Sarah gave no answer, but he didn’t seem to expect one. “That’s my wagon,” she said when she saw Eli. She was actually glad to see the grumpy old man. Without looking back for fear Bull would take it as encouragement, she went directly to the wagon and climbed inside.

  “Who’s that?” she heard Eli ask in his usual gruff to
ne.

  “Oh, his name’s Gaines,” Milburn said. “He’s a little hard to get along with, but I guess he’s all right.”

  In a few minutes Sarah climbed out carrying her sewing basket. She wouldn’t have time to do any mending until after supper, but getting it was an excuse for hiding in the wagon.

  “I don’t like his looks,” Eli said, scowling at Sarah.

  Sarah stared. How could he blame her?

  “Well, Eli,” said Milburn, “I don’t reckon he likes your looks, neither.”

  Chapter Two

  “We thank the Lord for leading us to this grassy meadow,” Reverend Fleenor shouted with outstretched arms. “As long as we are faithful, He will lead us safely to our new homes.”

  The dance floor of Saturday night had become the church of Sunday morning. Nearly all the travelers had left their work to listen to the reverend and add their voices to the hymns.

  “Chances are I’ll hear it all from here,” Eli had said. “But ya go on, Sarie, if ya want.”

  Noticing the disdain in his voice and certain his humor would be even worse if he had to do the baking alone, she decided to stay and help. He turned out to be right; they didn’t miss a word. The effect of the sermon was somewhat changed, however, by Eli’s continual comments.

  He thought, for instance, that Milburn should receive the credit for leading them to the meadow. When Sarah pointed out that Milburn had found it, not made it, Eli grunted and told her to knead the dough.

  Emotion made Fleenor’s voice crack. “Everything, from the fall of a leaf to the birth of a child, is God’s will.”

  “I reckon ya go along with that, too,” Eli said, reaching for the flour to mix up a second batch.

  “I guess so.” How had she gotten herself into this kind of discussion, and, more important, how could she get herself out before she made Eli impossibly angry? She had been working for Eli for five days, and this was the first time she had dared to disagree with him.

  “Ya guess so,” Eli repeated slowly. He slammed his spoon into the dough. “What about death?”