“Oh?” Elizabeth tried not to look surprised. The idea of Mahala and Matthew had never occurred to her. “How old did you say Mahala is?”
“She turned eighteen last fall.”
Elizabeth simply nodded. Certainly old enough to be considered marriageable.
“Have you met the Mullers yet?” Flo asked quietly.
“I don’t believe so.”
“That Gertrude…” Flo looked around to be sure no one was listening, but most of the children had drifted over to the music.
“Gertrude?” Elizabeth suddenly remembered the outspoken woman from their first day here. Her name was Gertrude.
“Gertrude is the wife,” Flo said. “And, take it from me, she is one piece of work. And truly, I am a woman who can get along with most anyone. But that Gertrude…” She shook her head. “She’s as prickly as a porcupine. And less manners than a polecat.”
“I…uh…I think perhaps I did meet her.” Elizabeth sighed. “She’s in our unit?”
“She most certainly is. We parked our wagon by theirs the first day we got here, so we’ve been neighbors. And that Gertrude, well, she just picked us apart right from the get-go. First she tells me our team is no good, and then she swears our wagon won’t make it over the plains in one piece. I just wish she’d mind her own business and let us be.” She shook her head. “And those boys of hers are perfect hoodlums.” She lowered her voice. “Well now, speak of the devil.”
Elizabeth looked up to see Gertrude and the rest of her family coming into camp. Unsure of what to do, Elizabeth decided to just wait for her father to take the lead.
“Welcome,” he hailed as he went to meet them, introducing himself to the husband, a pale, mousy man about half the size of his wife.
“I’m Henry Muller,” he quietly said, “and this here is my bride, Gertrude.”
Flo and Elizabeth exchanged amused glances.
“I go by Gertie.” She shook Asa’s hand. “And these are our children. Otis here is the oldest, just turned seventeen. That’s Horace, he’s fifteen. And Albert, the quiet one, he’s twelve. And that there is MaryLou, the baby.”
“I’m not a baby,” the yellow-haired girl declared. “I’m ten years old.”
Ruth, bless her heart, carried another plate of cookies, this time for the Mullers. “These are for you,” she told Gertie. “One for each member of your family.”
Gertie tilted her head to one side. “Didn’t I meet you already?”
Ruth nodded politely. “You met me and Grandma and Mama that first day when we got here.”
Now Elizabeth knew it was her turn to be hospitable. “Welcome to our camp.” She smiled at Gertie as she linked her arm in her father’s. “As you know, Asa is your councilman, but he’s also my father.”
Gertie seemed to be at a loss for words as Asa introduced the Mullers to the rest of his family. Then another group entered the camp, and soon Asa was distracted by a young couple—very young. But they seemed sweet.
“I’m Paddy McIntire,” the young man said with a strong Irish accent. “And this is my wife, Fiona. We’ve only been in this fine country a few months. But we’re on the way to the West for land.” He sighed. “Aye, land…won’t it be grand?” He nodded over to where the music was playing. “I’ve got me a fiddle,” he told Asa. “And a drum as well. Fiona and I love music.”
“I hope you’ll join us for some sing-alongs,” Asa told him.
“Aye, t’would be a pleasure. And won’t we have a grand time of it too?”
A family named Schneider arrived. The parents spoke broken English with strong German accents, but the school-aged children, Anna and Jonas, spoke good English and had perfect manners. Jonas was the same age as Jamie and, after politely thanking Ruth for the cookie, went directly to where the music was being played.
The next two families were from Boston, but with so many people now crowding the campground, Elizabeth didn’t manage to catch all their names. However, between the two families there seemed to be six or more adolescent children and three wagons. And it appeared the families were old friends. It also appeared that the Bostonians were rather wealthy and, although she didn’t like to pass judgment, they had a slightly superior air about them, as if they felt above the other emigrants.
“I heard that one man’s a lawyer and the other’s a merchant of some sort,” Flo told Elizabeth.
“It figures they’d wind up in our group,” Gertie said in her usual disgruntled way. “More greenhorns here than you can shake a stick at.”
Elizabeth noticed an older couple on the fringes, and eager to escape Gertie, she made her way over to welcome them. Quiet and polite, they introduced themselves as Horace and Jane Taylor. “We are missionaries,” Jane explained to Elizabeth in a somber tone. “Our mission is to go to the West to save the heathen Indians.”
“Oh…” Elizabeth didn’t know how to respond. “Is it just you and your husband, or do you have family traveling with you?”
Jane shook her head. “It’s only Horace and myself. The Good Lord chose to keep us childless. I suppose that is so we could be of help to others.”
The campground grew lively and loud with animated discussions, children roughhousing, Flax barking occasionally, and music. Everyone seemed to be having such a good time that Elizabeth wondered how late their guests would want to stay. Surely they’d be concerned for children’s bedtimes.
“Mama?” Ruth held up a plate of cookies. “There are still four cookies left. Did I count them wrong?”
“Have you given one to everybody?”
She nodded. “And our family each had one after dinner.”
“Why don’t we ask Grandpa if a wagon is still missing?”
So they went to Asa, and he pulled out his list to find out that, sure enough, one group had not shown up. “That would be the Morrises,” he told Ruth and Elizabeth. “Ruby and Jess and—”
“You talking about the Morrises?” Gertie interrupted.
Asa showed her the list. “These four haven’t shown up yet.”
“I doubt they will,” she told him. “Matter of fact, that wagon should be kicked off of the train by now.”
“What do you mean?” Elizabeth asked.
“I mean that those Morrises, if that’s even their name, are a bunch of no-goods. And if they haven’t been kicked off the train by now, they’ll get kicked off soon enough.”
“But the captain never mentioned this.” Asa frowned. “Are you sure of this?”
“I’m sure they’re nothing but trouble.”
Elizabeth looked at Asa. “Do you suppose it’s the man and the boy from the woodpile?”
“No. Wrong name.” Asa shook his head. “Besides, they weren’t in our unit.”
“Well, believe me,” Gertie said, “you don’t want them Morrises in your unit neither. They are good-for-nothings and—”
“Hello, hello,” called out a woman who was coming their way. Even in the dimly lit camp, Elizabeth could see that her hair was red and she had a happy bounce in her step. The other woman looked less enthused, and they were both trailed by a thin and reluctant-looking young man. “We finally made it.”
“Oh, Lordy.” Gertie rolled her eyes as she lowered her voice. “Here comes them no-goods now. Mark my word, these folks are nothing but trouble.”
Elizabeth gave Gertie a stiff smile, but she’d had more than enough of this sour woman. “Excuse me.” Now she hurried over to the smiling redhead. “Hello,” Elizabeth said warmly, grasping her hand. “Are you here to meet my father? He’s the councilmen for unit five.”
“Then we are in the right place after all.” The woman’s eyes twinkled as she elbowed the brown-haired woman with her. “And you thought we were lost. But I heard the music and laughter down here, and I said this must be the place. I’m so glad I was right.”
“Welcome to our camp.” Now Elizabeth led them to her father and Gertie. But just as Elizabeth began introductions, Gertie simply walked off.
“S
he’s not overly fond of us,” the redhead confided. “But it’s a real pleasure to meet you folks. I’m Ruby Morris and this here is Doris.” Now she pointed out the sulky young man who was remaining along the sidelines with a book in his hands. “That’s Jess over there. And we left poor Evangeline back at the wagon. She wasn’t feeling too smart.”
“I hope she’s all right,” Asa said with concern. “Nothing contagious?”
“Probably just something she ate,” Doris explained. “Evangeline’s got an awful finicky stomach.”
“Oh, well, maybe my wife can be of some help. She’s got all sorts of remedies. Let me go ask her.” Now Asa left.
“We’re from St. Louis,” Ruby told Elizabeth.
“We passed by there on our way,” Elizabeth said. “What a big city!”
“Oh yes, and getting bigger all the time.” Ruby nodded. “We’ll surely miss some about that river town, but what I won’t miss is how big it was getting. That makes it lots easier to part ways.”
Now Clara came over to join them, inquiring about the ailing Evangeline. “I have some peppermint and chamomile and bitters and a few other things.”
“She’s probably sleeping by now,” Ruby assured her. “Maybe she’ll feel better by morning.”
“If not, you feel free to come around.” Clara smiled at Ruby. “I’ve been so relieved to see I’m not the only older woman on this train. I was a little worried.” She nodded toward Doris. “Is Doris your daughter?”
Ruby smiled. “We’ve been together for so long that I think of her as my daughter. But, no, we’re not related. Not by blood.”
“When Ruby told me she was going west, I insisted on coming with her,” Doris said. “It sounded like a great adventure.”
“That’s what I think too,” Elizabeth said. “A great adventure.”
“It was really Jess’ idea to go west.” Ruby nodded over to where the young man was now seated by the fire. Leaning over, he was attempting to read his book by the firelight. “Jess wants to be a farmer, of all things.” She shook her head. “Can you imagine living in a city like St. Louis and dreaming of being a farmer? But Jess has been reading up on farming for years now. Not sure if books are much help when it comes to growing things though.”
“We’re farmers,” Elizabeth told her. “Maybe Jess would like to talk to us about farming.”
“Oh, I doubt that,” Ruby said. “Jess is as shy as they come.”
“And a bookworm to boot. Always got a book in hand.” Doris shook her head as if that were a bad thing.
“Certainly, there are worse things than reading.” Elizabeth smiled at Ruby. “I know I’m always pleased to see my children with a book.”
“You must be proud of your son’s interest in reading,” Clara said to Ruby.
Ruby waved her hand. “Oh, I’m not Jess’ mother.”
“Ruby is Jess’ aunt,” Doris explained.
“And guardian,” Ruby added. “That’s how I got talked into this whole crazy venture in the first place. I couldn’t allow Jess to head out into the wilderness all alone. That would be irresponsible.”
“Well, I’m glad you came along,” Clara told Ruby. “It’s encouraging to see a few older women making this trip. I suspect we’ll have lots in common to chat about.”
Ruby chuckled. “Well, you just never know.”
“Tell Jess that we brought some books with us too,” Elizabeth said. “It was difficult deciding which ones to take and which ones to leave behind. But he is welcome to borrow some if he likes.”
“My husband, Asa, brought along a fine selection of books too,” Clara said. “I’m sure he’d be happy to loan them.”
“You are both exceedingly kind.” Ruby smiled happily. “You make us feel right at home.”
“And if Jess wants to talk to someone about farming, you tell him to come by,” Clara said. “Believe me, Asa can talk for hours on the subject. He probably has some farming books with him too.”
Ruby chuckled, exchanging a glance with Doris. “Well, I doubt Jess will take you up on that offer, but it’s right generous of you all the same. I’m much obliged.”
Elizabeth tried to be cordial to all their visitors, but some of them, particularly Gertie Muller, made it difficult. And Elizabeth let out a sigh of relief when the Mullers finally made their departure. However, she did enjoy the cheerful company of Ruby and Doris. And, before they left, she insisted on sending some leftover ham and potato soup for Evangeline. “It will be just the thing for an upset stomach,” she assured them.
“Thank you kindly,” Ruby said. “You are truly a good soul, and it’s an honor to travel with you and your family.”
“I expect we’ll be fast friends by the end of this trip,” Elizabeth assured the two women. “I look forward to getting better acquainted with you.” She and Clara watched as the women went over to Jess, who still had his nose in the book.
“I’ll encourage Matthew to spend some time with that boy,” Clara said quietly. “He might just be lonely. And Matthew might be just the ticket to bring him out of his shell some.”
“That’s a good idea, Mother.” Elizabeth looked over to where Asa was still holding court with some of the men. Their expressions looked intense, as if the subject matter was of a serious nature. She paused for a moment, straining to hear, and suddenly she realized they were talking about Indian attacks. She felt a chill rush through her, and the hairs on her arms stood up. Surely they weren’t expecting any trouble like that on this trip, were they? All the Indians she’d known much about, back in Kentucky, had been relatively peaceful.
Feeling uneasy, she looked about the shadowy campsite, trying to spot her children. And finally, she simply called out for them. To her relief, they came running, but still feeling anxious, she opened her pocket watch and proclaimed it time for bed. She knew she was being overprotective, but she just wanted them safely by her side.
Chapter Seventeen
It took most of the morning for the wagons to rearrange themselves into their camp units. But by midday, all twelve wagons in unit five were circled in the east meadow. The men were tending to the livestock, and Clara had gone over to check on Evangeline. Meanwhile Elizabeth and Ruth were getting dinner started, and JT, finished with his chores, had sat down to play to them on his guitar.
“Your brother is going to be a pretty good guitar player,” Elizabeth told Ruth as she dropped some carrots into the pot.
“He can play ‘Skip to My Lou’ real nice,” Ruth told her.
“It was a good idea you had at the music store that day.” Elizabeth patted Ruth’s head. “I’m going to get some sugar and some baking things from Grandma’s wagon. Will you keep an eye on that pot for me? Give it a stir now and then to keep the lamb from sticking.”
“Sure, Mama.”
As soon as Elizabeth climbed into her parents’ wagon, she heard Flax barking from where he was tied on their wagon. Then she heard a man’s voice calling out a greeting. JT hushed the dog, but before Elizabeth could see who was there, Ruth welcomed him in a sweet, friendly tone.
“Hello, Mr. Kincaid,” Ruth said. “How are you today?”
“I’m just fine and dandy, Ruth. But we’re friends, so you better call me Eli.”
Without speaking, Elizabeth poked her head out, curiously watching from the back of the wagon. Eli, dressed in his usual buckskins, was peering down in the pot.
“What you got cooking here, little lady?” he asked.
“Mama’s making lamb stew for dinner.” Ruth gave the pot a generous stir with a big wooden spoon.
“Smells mighty good.”
“You can join us if you like,” Ruth offered. “We always have plenty.”
He chuckled. “Well, that’s right hospitable of you, little lady, but I have some rounds to make. Is your grandpa nearby?”
“He and Matthew are seeing to the livestock, but they said they’ll be back in time for dinner.”
“Who’s that I hear playing the guitar?” Now
Eli cocked his head to one side.
“That’s my brother, Jamie,” Ruth said proudly. “I mean, JT.”
“You calling me?” Now JT came around the corner of the wagon with his guitar in hand. Elizabeth could tell by his face he was surprised to see Eli there. She supposed they hadn’t met yet.
“Who are you?” JT asked with wide eyes.
Now Ruth politely introduced them, and Elizabeth couldn’t have been prouder of her daughter. “Eli is the scout for our wagon train,” Ruth told her brother. “Me and Mama and Grandma met him on our first day here.”
“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Eli told JT.
“What does a scout do?” JT asked.
“A lot of things. Mostly I take care of the train by helping to find good grass for the livestock and game for hunting and drinking water for everybody.”
“Do you look for Indians too?” JT asked.
Eli nodded. “I keep an eye out for anything I think might be a threat.”
“That’s sure a big knife.” JT pointed to the knife sheath hanging from Eli’s belt.
“It’s a bowie knife.” Eli pulled it out. The shiny blade glinted in the sun. “You probably know all about these knives since Jim Bowie hailed from Kentucky.”
“Yeah, I heard of Jim Bowie before.” JT was obviously impressed. “My grandpa and uncle have hunting knives too. But not as big or nice as this one.”
“Do you have a knife?”
JT reached in his pocket to pull out his pocketknife, showing it to Eli.
“That’s a good knife too. But I wouldn’t want to go in the wilderness without a real bowie knife. Some folks think a bowie knife’s more valuable than a gun. I reckon if I had to choose between them, I’d go with the knife.”
“You’d pick a knife over a gun?” JT looked skeptical.
“If I was out in the wilderness, I would.” Now Eli pointed to the guitar. “That’s a real handsome guitar, JT. Is it yours?”
So JT told him about getting it for his birthday.
Westward Hearts Page 15