“Oh, my!” Elizabeth was shocked. “And they say they don’t allow gambling.”
“Well, the cap’n threw them both off.”
“He threw them overboard?” Jamie asked with wide eyes.
“No, he made ’em get off while we were still docked in Columbia. But I’ve heard tell of folks bein’ thrown off, right into the Missouri River—that is, if they’re overly misbehaving,” she said somberly.
“What ages are your children?” Elizabeth asked, mostly to change the subject.
“My eldest is eighteen and the baby just turned eight.”
“I’m eight,” Ruth said proudly.
“Same age as my Tillie,” Flo told her.
“You have a girl? And she’s eight like me?” Ruth’s eyes lit up.
“I’m sure she’ll be pleased to meet you.” Now Flo turned to Jamie. “And my boy Walter, he’s eleven. I’ll wager that’s about your age.”
“I’ll be twelve soon,” he told her.
“How many children do you have?” Elizabeth asked.
“Five altogether,” Flo told her. “Mahala’s nearly eighteen and Ezra’s sixteen but big as a man. Hannah’s thirteen but dependable. And, as afore mentioned, Walter and Tillie.” She waved to a large bearded man just coming into the room. “And that there’s my Bert. Come on over here and meet our new friends,” she called to him.
After introducing Elizabeth and the children to Bert, Flo inquired about Elizabeth’s husband.
“I’m a widow,” Elizabeth told her.
“A widow?” Flo’s thin brows arched. “You’re taking youngins to Oregon country all on your own?”
Elizabeth quickly explained about her brother and parents.
“Oh, well, that’s a relief. For the life of me, I cannot imagine how a lone widow and youngins would fare on such a journey.” She shook her head. “I still can’t fathom how my Bert talked me into this scheme. But the youngins were raring to go. And then, of course, there’s the lure of free land.”
Before long, the Flanders’ children began wandering in, and the schoolwork was set aside as more introductions were made. Ruth and Tillie seemed to hit it right off. But Walter and Jamie barely spoke. Then Jamie spied his grandpa and asked to be excused to go help with the livestock. “I promised Uncle Matthew and Grandpa I’d help with the livestock this afternoon. Grandpa wants to walk them around some. We’ll do it every day until we get to Kansas City—so they can stretch their legs.”
“That’s a very good idea,” Elizabeth told him. “You run along now.”
“Walking the livestock?” Flo looked confused. “Are you folks working for your passage on the river?”
“No…” Elizabeth smiled. “Jamie is helping to tend our own animals. And I’m afraid this long trip might be taking a toll on them. As far as I’m concerned, we won’t deport from this boat one day too soon.”
“You’re transporting your own livestock by riverboat?” Bert rubbed his chin. “That musta cost someone a pretty penny.”
“We’re farmers,” she explained. “And I suppose we’re rather attached to our animals. Also, bringing our own teams allowed us to bring our loaded wagons from our homes.”
“You got fully loaded prairie schooners on this here riverboat?” Flo asked in disbelief.
Elizabeth nodded. “Yes. We debated over this a fair amount among ourselves. But eventually it seemed the best plan. Hopefully we won’t regret it.”
“Surely y’all know you can purchase whatever you need in Kansas City.” Bert studied her with a creased brow. “You jus’ jump off the boat and there are wagons and teams and tools and mos’ anything you want. Right there. You load ’em up and head on out. Nice and neat. That’s what we plan to do.”
“Yes, my brother might have agreed with you on that, but as I said, we were already farming our land and fairly well set with livestock and wagons and such. It seemed senseless to sell everything and then be forced to purchase the exact same things all over again.” She smiled at him. “Tell me, Mr. Flanders, how do you make your living?”
“Bert is a blacksmith,” Flo said proudly.
“Now that’s a wonderful skill to bring on an overland journey. I do hope that you folks will be joining our wagon train. My father and brother would be so glad to know a blacksmith is in our party. We’ll be traveling with Captain Brownlee.”
“Captain Brownlee?” Flo repeated the name thoughtfully. “Do we know what party we’re going with, Bert?”
He scratched his head. “Nah, we’ll figure it out when we get there.”
Now they began to discuss their final destination, and it seemed that the Flanders had not completely made up their minds about that either.
“’Ceptin’ we do want to go all the way west,” Bert assured her. “From what I heard, the best land is way out there in the far West, and we don’t plan to settle for less than the best.” He grinned at his wife. “Do we?”
Flo shrugged as if uncertain. “I jus’ want a nice patch of lush green land and some big ol’ shade trees to sit under. I s’pect that’s not too much to ask for…once we get out West.”
“I don’t think that’s too much to ask,” Elizabeth assured her. “From what I hear, there’s plenty of that to go around.”
Chapter Twelve
When it was time to unload the wagons and livestock, Elizabeth was more thankful than ever that Brady had come with them. The task ahead seemed daunting, and an extra pair of hands would be invaluable. It was somewhat reassuring that her father and brother appeared unconcerned. They had decided to hold back from unloading, allowing anxious passengers, including the Flanders family, to rush from the boat like scared rabbits. Dashing off in pursuit of prairie schooners and teams and supplies, they gave the distinct impression that there might not be enough to go around. This made Elizabeth somewhat uneasy.
And with the unseasonably warm day and spring sunshine, Elizabeth worried that some of the wagon trains might already be hitched up and ready to roll away on the prairie by now. They all knew that the only thing stopping overland travel was the lack of good grazing land for livestock. And the only thing stopping good grazing land was bad weather. Despite it being late March, they hadn’t had bad weather for nearly a week now.
Asa’s plan had been to bide their time today, waiting until things quieted down on the riverboat so they could unload their wagons and livestock in a controlled and careful manner. It had seemed a good plan last night, but standing here in the sunshine today, Elizabeth felt her patience wearing thin.
“When can we get off?” Ruth asked as the three women watched from an upper deck.
“Soon, I hope.” Elizabeth peered down to where a large piece of machinery was slowly but steadily being unloaded from the cargo hold. “I told Grandpa we’d wait until he gave us the go-ahead.”
“And then will we go on the Oregon Trail?” Ruth asked.
“Not right away,” Elizabeth told her. “First we have to find our group.”
“How will we find them?”
“Your grandpa has it all figured out,” Clara assured her. “Don’t you fret.”
Elizabeth patted the note in her skirt pocket. Her father had given her the names and details of where they would eventually meet up with their group this afternoon. Finally, after the unloading appeared to have slowed down significantly, Asa called up to announce they were about to start hitching up the teams. “It won’t be long now,” he promised.
“Do you need me to help with the wagons?” Elizabeth called back.
“No.” He shook his head. “But we do need you womenfolk to disembark now. Like I told you last night, I want you to go on ahead of us. Follow the directions I gave you. Get to camp and find Captain Brownlee. Tell him we’ll be there soon, and ask him where we should park the wagons for the night. Then you head back on down the same road, and we shouldn’t be more than an hour or so away. You can lead us into camp, Lizzie.”
Taking Ruth’s hand in hers, Elizabeth nodded to her mothe
r. “Here we go.” They walked down the gangway, and as happy as she was to be finished with the Princess Annabelle, Elizabeth gave the boat a quick salute before they happily continued on their way. Once they were on the dock, Elizabeth pulled the paper from her pocket, peering at the hand-drawn map. “Looks like we go that way.” She pointed to her right.
“The ground feels funny.” Ruth stumbled, and Elizabeth gripped her hand more securely.
“Oh, my!” Clara tipped to one side. “I’m afraid we need to get our land legs beneath us now.”
“Land legs?” Ruth looked confused.
“From being on the boat,” Elizabeth explained. “Remember how you felt it rocking when we first got on it? And how you had to get used to it? Now you need to get used to the solid ground again.” Tucking her note securely into her pocket, she grabbed her mother’s hand too. “We’ll help steady each other.” They laughed as they tottered along, slowly making their way down the dock and onto a crowded street.
“Look at all the people,” Ruth said as they began to make their way through the throng.
“Just like a herd of cattle.” Clara sniffed. “And nearly as smelly.”
Ruth laughed.
Elizabeth looked at the frantic people scrambling about from stores to vendors, some carrying bags, some looking lost. “I’m so thankful our wagons are already loaded,” she said to her mother.
Clara just nodded. “I hope the livestock are fit enough to get the wagons and the men off the boat safely.”
An unwanted image flashed in Elizabeth’s mind—confused horses getting spooked and an overturned wagon. Someone could be hurt. She stopped walking, and looking at her mother and Ruth, she said, “Let’s pray for them to get safely off the boat.” And so, standing right there in the middle of a busy street, the three of them bowed their heads and prayed. Feeling somewhat consoled as they said amen, Elizabeth looked up and saw the name of the street ahead. “That’s Oak Street,” she told them. “We’re supposed to go north there.”
“Which way is north?” Ruth asked.
Elizabeth looked back toward the river and then at the sun’s angle, finally pointing to her right. “That way.”
They walked past more stores and through more crowds of people, and the farther they got from town, the more covered wagons they saw. There were hundreds of them—some parked, some on the move.
“My word,” Clara said. “Will you look at all those prairie schooners!”
“All that white canvas reminds me of when the sky is full of clouds,” Elizabeth observed.
“I think it’s pretty,” Ruth said.
“We go down this street for about a mile,” Elizabeth told them. “Then we should come to a road. We take a left on it and stay on that road for another mile.”
“Two more miles to walk?” Clara sounded surprised.
“There’ll be a lot more of that once we start on the trail,” Elizabeth reminded her.
After a good hour, they finally found a sign that gave Elizabeth hope. “Read that,” she told Ruth.
“Captain Brownlee’s Party Ahead,” Ruth proclaimed.
“That’s our party,” Elizabeth told them.
“How many wagons do you suppose will be in our group?” Clara asked.
“Father said it would be around fifty.”
“Fifty wagons!” Ruth’s eyes got wide. “That’ll be a long train.”
“I doubt that they’ll all be going to the far West,” Elizabeth explained as they walked through the camp. “But just imagine,” she said quietly, “these people you see right now—out here working on their wagons, mending harnesses, feeding their animals, fixing food, doing their washing—these same people will become our neighbors, Ruth. Like a big traveling town.”
“You women lost?” a heavyset older woman demanded as she approached them, wiping her hands on a grubby apron.
“No, but thank you,” Elizabeth replied. “We’re looking for Captain Brownlee.”
The woman scowled. “Where’s your wagon?”
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Elizabeth assured her. “Do you know where I can find Captain—”
“Are you signed up for this wagon train?” the woman asked with a skeptical expression. “Because this wagon train is already more than full up. And we’re about ready to go. You can’t just sashay in here with a pretty smile and expect to join up at the eleventh hour.”
“I beg your pardon.” Elizabeth stood to her full height, several inches taller than this rude woman. “I am here to see Captain Brownlee. If you don’t know his whereabouts, will you please excuse—”
“Can I help you?”
Elizabeth turned to see a long-legged man swinging gracefully down from a tall Appaloosa. With his dark shaggy hair and fringed buckskins, she thought for a moment that he was an Indian. But upon closer inspection, she thought perhaps she was wrong. “Excuse me?” she said to him.
“Can I help you?” he said again.
The portly woman stepped in between them now. “These women just showed up and they seem to think they’re gonna join our wagon train,” she told the dark-haired man. “But, as you can see, they ain’t even got a wagon. I was just trying to find out if they were lost or something.”
“Are you lost?” the man asked Elizabeth.
“I don’t believe I am,” she told him. “My father has been in contact with the captain.”
“What’s your father’s name?”
“Asa Dawson,” Clara said importantly. “I am Mrs. Dawson. And I assure you that my husband Asa has—”
“Ah, the Dawson party.” He nodded. “We have the Dawsons down for two wagons. And we’re still waiting for the Martin party.”
“I am the Martin party,” Elizabeth told him.
His dark brows went up. “You’re traveling by yourself?”
“No good’ll come of that,” the nosy woman declared. “A lone woman on a—”
“I’m not alone,” Elizabeth told her.
“That’s right,” Ruth declared. “Mama’s not alone. Me and my brother are going with her.”
“A lone woman with youngins!” The intrusive woman shook her head and grumbled. “Nothing but trouble.”
“Elizabeth is not traveling alone,” Clara said to the woman. Then she turned to the man. “She has her parents and her brother as well.”
“And Brady,” Ruth said importantly. “And Flax too. He’s our dog.”
The man looked slightly amused but then grew more serious as he turned back to Elizabeth. “Who is driving your wagon?”
“I am,” she told him.
He frowned. “Do you know how to drive a team?”
“I do.” She looked evenly at him. He might have been a few inches taller than her, but she felt she could stand up to him. “I assure you I will not be a problem.”
“What will you do when you break down?” the woman asked. “You know how to change a wagon wheel? Can you fix a broken axle?”
“Her father and her brother and Brady will help her,” Clara told the woman.
The man frowned and then looked over her shoulder. “And where’s the rest of your party, ma’am? And your wagons?”
“They’re unloading them from the riverboat.”
“You brought your wagons by boat?” Now the woman actually laughed.
Ignoring her, Elizabeth turned back to the man. “You know our names, but we don’t know who you are.”
He nodded. “My apologies, ma’am. Name is Eli Kincaid. I’m the scout for this wagon train.”
Now Elizabeth explained about coming ahead of the wagons. “My father wanted me to find out where they should camp the wagons. I was going back to meet them on the road and direct them. We’re concerned for our animals. They were more than two weeks on the river and—”
“You’re bringing stoved-up animals with you?” The woman pursed her lips.
Elizabeth was fed up with this woman, but trying hard not to show it. “I’m sorry,” she said tersely. “But I don’t even
know you. I am trying to talk to Mr. Kincaid about our arrangements, and I do not see how that has anything to do with you.”
“Nothing to do with me?” It was clear this busybody was mad now. “I’ll have you know that everybody on this here wagon train has something to do with everybody else. If you are the weakest link, and I’ll wager you are, you could put the rest of us in serious peril.” She shook her finger at Elizabeth. “If this train gets slowed down by folks trying to take care of you and your youngins, you’ll be putting all of us in danger. And if you don’t respect that, you don’t belong here.”
Elizabeth blinked, trying to gauge her words and not wanting to set a bad example for Ruth. “I do respect that. But you don’t know me, and you have no right to judge me.”
“That’s right,” Clara said. “Elizabeth is a very responsible woman. She’s been running her own farm. And, like we keep trying to tell you, she is not traveling alone. She has her whole family backing her.”
“Why don’t you let me handle this, Gertrude?” Mr. Kincaid smiled at the older woman, revealing a nice even set of white teeth. “We appreciate your concern for the well-being of this train, but you can best serve by tending to your own campsite.” He nodded over to where a couple of adolescent boys were having a knife-throwing contest, using a bucket on the side of a wagon as a target. To Elizabeth’s relief, the woman huffed off.
“Thank you.” Elizabeth let out a little sigh.
“Gertrude tends to speak her mind. But she’s not a bad person.”
“No, I don’t expect she is. But right now I’d like to go meet the wagons and direct them. Where would you like them to park, Mr. Kincaid?”
“I don’t cotton much to ‘mister.’ Just call me Eli.”
“Fine.” She nodded. “Where would you like my family to camp our wagons and livestock?” Elizabeth looked around the already crowded camp. “And when do you expect the wagon train to depart?”
“I’m not sure of the exact day yet, but it’s getting closer. I’m leaving first thing in the morning to see how the grasslands are looking. Everyone thinks just because the sun is shining, we should be on our way. But weather can be misleading. My best guess is that we still have a week for the grass to get tall enough.” Now he walked them over to the edge of the other campers to show them where they should park the wagons. He also told them a few rules of the wagon train, which sounded just like common decency to Elizabeth.
Westward Hearts Page 11