“I hope you’re right.” She tucked her handkerchief back into her skirt pocket, holding her head high again. “But I’ll admit that seeing that twister and knowing the girls…my own little girl was out there in harm’s way…well, it reminded me of how quickly things can change.” She shook her head. “Calamity can befall anyone.”
“True enough.”
“It makes me want to keep my children safe at my side.”
“Then how would they grow up to be strong enough to handle life’s troubles on their own?”
“I’m just saying I want to…not that I will.” Now she told him about Ruth praying as they searched for Tillie. “I need to remember to rely on my faith like that too,” she admitted. “That’s what it always comes down to…trusting God to take care of us.”
“I reckon.” He nodded with a sad expression.
“Have you ever lost anyone you really loved, Eli?” She was surprised at herself for asking this—and so abruptly too. But it was too late. It was already out there. And the truth was, she wanted to know.
“As a matter of fact, I have.”
“Not that it’s any of my business…” She looked down at the reins in her hands.
“I was married once…about a dozen years ago, although it seems like more now. Like another lifetime even. It only lasted a couple of years. Then I lost my wife and son to smallpox.”
She glanced at him. “I’m sorry.”
He just nodded. “Thank you. Most of the time I don’t think about it too much. I hardly ever speak of it to anyone.”
So she told him a bit about losing James and her unborn baby to cholera four years earlier. “It seems we have more in common than I realized.”
“I reckon we do.”
Now there was a long silence, and she didn’t know what to say. So to lighten the mood she talked about how the three little girls had been covered from head to toe with dust. “I hope we camp by the river tonight. It will take a good amount of water to get them all clean.”
“I s’pect those girls will spark plenty of conversations around most of the campfires tonight.”
She laughed. “Do you really think everyone will hear about it?”
“You’d be surprised at how tales can travel on a train like this. Like a wildfire on a windy day.”
“I know that’s true. The stories my father brings with him sometimes…” She chuckled. “And they say men don’t gossip.”
“Some stories can change dramatically the more they get told. By the time the twister story makes its rounds, it might sound even more fantastic than it was.”
“You have to admit, the story of a little girl being carried off by a twister is already quite amazing. And to think she’s all right…” Elizabeth shook her head in wonder.
Now he leaned over and peered curiously at her. “And I heard a strange part of the story too. According to one of the Bramford girls, you leaped onto your horse and galloped directly into the twister.” He whistled. “Now that’s something I would like to have witnessed firsthand.”
She sighed. “Truth be told, it wasn’t that gallant. I suppose most mothers would face the jaws of death in order to rescue their children.” By now they had caught up with the rear of the wagon train. “Thank you for escorting me back…” She made a sheepish smile. “And for helping me to get back on my horse too.”
“’Twas my pleasure, ma’am.” He tipped his hat and grinned. “It’s not every day I get to ride with the woman who chased down a twister.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Asa had the foresight to put up the tent when they made camp that night. It provided a private bathhouse for the dust-coated girls as well as Elizabeth, who discovered she was almost as dirty as they were. “I wish we could all just jump into the river,” Elizabeth said as she peeled the dust-encrusted skirt away from Ruth.
“Can we?” Tillie asked hopefully.
“Grandpa says it’s flowing too fast,” Ruth told her. Just then Flo and Mahala came in with buckets of water, warning that it was cold but promising to bring some hot water to warm it soon. Elizabeth helped the girls, washing and scrubbing and rinsing. But when it came to poor Tillie’s hair, she didn’t even know where to begin. Even with most of the dirt rinsed out, Tillie’s fine, curly locks were so twisted and snarled around little twigs and burs that it was impossible to untangle.
“I don’t know what you’re going to do with it,” Elizabeth told Flo.
“I’m afraid it’s going to have to come off,” Flo said sadly. “All of it.”
“You’re going to cut all of Tillie’s hair off?” Ruth’s eyes grew wide.
“Like a boy?” Tillie’s eyes glimmered with interest.
“Don’t worry, it’ll grow back,” Flo assured them.
“I’ll get my scissors,” Elizabeth offered, but then she remembered that Brady had taken all their shoes in order to give them a good oiling. “Except that I’m barefoot.”
“I brought our moccasins to wear.” Ruth stuck out a foot to show off her interesting footwear. “They’re real comfortable, Mama.”
So Flo went to fetch the scissors while Elizabeth put on her moccasins. “They are comfortable,” she admitted. “But maybe not sturdy enough for walking too much.”
“Indians walk in them,” Ruth pointed out.
By suppertime, Tillie’s hair had been cropped so short that she really did resemble a boy. “I’ve been scalped,” she bragged as she let Ruth feel her shorn, round head.
“Put on your bonnet,” Flo told her daughter. “No one will even notice.”
But Tillie liked getting attention for having survived not only a twister but also a “scalping.” And after supper, everyone in their unit congregated around Asa’s campfire to hear Tillie give an account of her exciting adventures. Naturally, Tillie was more than pleased to accommodate them. And then the others who had been closest to the spectacle, including the Bramford girls, told their own accounts.
“We thought all of them were going to be taken up by the cyclone,” Belinda said. “Tillie, Ruth, and Hannah just vanished in the whirling wind, and then it looked like Elizabeth and her horse were going to be swept away as well.”
“It was a terrible thing to see,” Amelia added. “We were certain we’d never see any of you again.”
Will grinned at Elizabeth. “That was quite a brave thing you did—riding your horse out there to help the girls.”
Elizabeth shrugged. “I’m sure you would have done the same if your children were in harm’s way.”
He nodded.
“But then the twister was gone, and we couldn’t find Tillie anywhere,” Hannah explained. “It was so terrifying. I thought I’d lost my little Tillie.” She put her arm protectively around Tillie. “What would we do without our sweet baby sister?”
“But it turned out she was just fine,” Ruth proclaimed. “And when we found her, her hair was sticking out all over like this.” She held up her hands with her fingers splayed out. “Just like a tumbleweed. And that’s why we named her Tumbleweed Tillie.”
“And then I got scalped by my own ma.” Tillie proudly ran her hand over her cropped hair.
“You shouldn’t speak lightly about scalpings,” Gertie warned her. “We’re about to come into some dangerous Injun territory, where that could truly happen, and believe you me, it’s no joking matter.” Now Gertie launched into a terrible tale of how some California settlers suffered horribly at the hands of Indians.
“Excuse me, Gertie.” Elizabeth cut her off when the description grew overly vivid. “But we have children listening.”
“Children need to know about these goings-on too,” Gertie argued.
“Not in such gruesome detail,” Flo said sharply.
“And not before bedtime,” Elizabeth added.
“I got an idea,” Asa said cheerfully. “I think we should all make up a poem about Tumbleweed Tillie.”
“Yes, let’s do,” Clara agreed.
“And I already got the f
irst line.” He grinned at Tillie with a twinkle in his eye.
“Tell us, Grandpa!” Ruth pleaded.
He stood up. “Starts out like this:
Tumbleweed Tillie, the Flanders’ smallest sister,
went out to pick some poppies and got plucked up by a twister.
“That’s good!” Tillie clapped her hands. Others began to add funny lines, and after a bit, Matthew was playing a tune on his fiddle with JT strumming along on his guitar. They had just put a funny little song together when Eli and the captain walked into camp with somewhat serious-looking expressions. As usual, the crowd quieted. It seemed that everyone came to attention when the captain showed up.
“Sorry to interrupt your festivities,” he said as he stepped up to their campfire. “But Eli here tells me that some of the girls in this unit experienced some excitement today.”
“Here’s our very own Tumbleweed Tillie,” Asa told him as he patted Tillie’s shorn head. “We just made up a funny song about her.”
“It’s a great song,” Tillie said proudly.
“I’d like to hear it,” he told her. “But first I need to make an announcement. As you all know, it’s been acceptable for folks to wander and explore a bit while we travel, as long as you stay within sight of the wagon train. But now that we’re coming into Cheyenne country, we need to be even more cautious.”
“Are the Cheyenne very dangerous?” Will Bramford asked.
“All Injuns are dangerous,” Gertie spouted out.
“That’s not true.” Eli spoke in a firm tone. “Most Indians are more peaceful than white men.”
“You’re telling us that savage Injuns are peaceful?” Gertie narrowed her eyes. “What about those stories coming out of California?” Once again she began to tell of raids and murders.
“The Indians have been here much longer than the white man,” Eli explained. “But the white man keeps pushing west, pushing the Indians out. It’s only natural that some Indians can only take so much.”
“And I reckon you think it’s only natural to murder settlers too?” Gertie demanded.
“I’m not defending criminal acts,” he told her. “I’m just trying to get you to understand their situation. White men have brought hunting parties to these plains and slaughtered thousands of buffalo—not for their meat or their hides but for sport. As a result, Indians starve. Imagine how you would feel if someone came and slaughtered your herds and deprived your children of food just for the fun of it?”
The group grew quiet now, and with thoughtful expressions they appeared to be considering what they’d just heard. Even Gertie was silenced.
The captain cleared his throat. “We’re not trying to make you folks overly fearful of Indians, and we’re not trying to turn you into Indian lovers either,” he said. “We just want you to respect them. And that means respecting what some of them might be capable of. We don’t expect any trouble, but at the same time we don’t want to stir up any. So for the next few weeks we’ll double up on guard duty at night. And we ask people to be watchful and to stay a little closer to the wagons during the day. And if you go out hunting or fishing, you make sure that it’s in groups of three or more. And don’t let children go out without having an adult along.” He put a hand on Asa’s shoulder. “And I need you to attend a councilman meeting tomorrow morning. My wagon at sunup.” The captain turned to smile at the crowd. “How about singing that song for us now?”
After they sang the song, the group began to disperse, but Asa offered Eli and the captain some coffee and biscuits. The captain had other business to tend to, but Eli opted to sit a while. Elizabeth was glad he felt comfortable around their campfire…glad her father had extended hospitality.
“Sounds like you’re getting better on the guitar,” he told JT. “You must be practicing.”
“Thanks.” JT nodded eagerly. “I practice almost every night after chores are done.”
Eli pointed to Ruth’s feet now. “Those are mighty pretty moccasins, Ruth. Where’d you get them?”
She beamed at him. “Mama and I both got moccasins back at Fort Kearney.” She pointed to Elizabeth’s feet now.
“They look like they were made by Pawnee,” he told her.
“How can you tell?” Ruth asked.
“Those flowers there. I could be wrong. Might be Lakota. But I’ve seen work like that before, and it was done by Pawnee women.”
“You know a lot about Indians, don’t you?” Ruth said.
“I reckon I know more’n most folks.” He shrugged. “But that’s only ’cause I lived with a tribe for a while.”
“You lived with the Indians?” Ruth’s eyes grew huge.
He chuckled and nodded and then took a slow sip of coffee.
“How long did you live with them?” JT asked.
“A few years.”
Elizabeth was too stunned to speak. Eli had actually lived with Indians? How was that even possible? A white man cohabiting with Indians?
“Which tribe?” JT asked with interest.
“Crow.”
“Where did you live?”
“We’ll be near their territory when we’re in Fort Laramie. They’re mostly north of there. But they don’t stay in one place. They’re nomadic.”
“What’s nomadic?” Ruth asked.
“It means they move around,” he explained. “They follow the buffalo herd or where the fishing is good or where the berries are ripe. In a way it’s not so different from what you folks are doing. They take their homes with them.”
“You mean teepees?” JT asked.
He nodded. “You’d be surprised at how quickly they can put one up or take it down. The women help each other, and the next thing you know, they’re packed and ready to go.”
“The women are responsible for putting up and taking down their teepees?” Clara asked with a creased brow.
“Aside from hunting and fishing, which is done by the men, the women do most of the work related to their survival. It’s hard work being an Indian woman.”
“It’s hard work being a farmer’s wife too.” Clara exchanged a knowing glance with Elizabeth.
“In a way, you emigrants are living similar to the Indians, traveling in a group, taking your homes with you. Except most white folks don’t know how to travel light.”
“I suppose if we wanted to live in teepees and wear buckskins, we could travel more lightly.” Asa sighed. “We might have to travel more lightly when we start climbing those mountains.”
“Did Indians make your clothes?” Ruth asked.
Eli nodded.
“Mind if I ask how it came to be that you lived with the Crow?” Asa bent down to light his pipe.
“It’s not a story I usually tell, but since you folks are friends…” Eli wrapped his hands around the tin cup. “I had an uncle who was a fur trapper for Hudson Bay Company. He’d come visit us in Virginia once in a while, always telling us all sorts of tall tales. I was about Matthew’s age, and both my parents had passed on, when my uncle made one of his visits. He invited me to journey out West with him, and I saw no reason to say no. We left in the spring, and I discovered that I loved the traveling and living off the land and seeing new places. But it didn’t take long to realize I wasn’t overly fond of the trapping business. Still, I loved my uncle and knew he appreciated my companionship. Unfortunately, he drowned in the Bighorn River the second winter I was out there. That’s when I decided I didn’t really care to be a fur trapper at all.”
“I’m sorry for your loss, son.” Asa refilled his coffee cup.
Eli just nodded. “I’d decided to head back to Fort Laramie to spend the rest of the winter, but along the way I ran into a party of Sioux. I thought they were a hunting party at first, but they had a young woman with them, and something didn’t add up. After spending a day with them, I suspected the girl was being held against her will. My uncle had been friends with some Crow Indians, and I’d learned a few words—enough to figure out the girl was Crow. And I also
knew there was bad blood between Sioux and Crow, so I figured that whatever their plans for the girl were, they couldn’t be good. As a matter of fact, I didn’t feel too safe myself.”
Everyone was listening intently now, and Elizabeth felt worried that this story might turn out to be as unsuitable for young ears as the one Gertie had been telling earlier. But Ruth and JT were so enthralled that she knew she couldn’t send them to bed early. Besides, she wanted to hear the rest of his tale too. Just then Eli glanced over at her, and almost as if reading her thoughts, he barely tipped his head before continuing.
“So I asked the girl, as best I could, if she’d been kidnapped, and it turned out my hunch was right. So that night, after the Sioux were asleep, I snuck the girl out of their camp, and we took one of their horses and got away from them. We rode long and hard all night and throughout the next day. I wanted to distance ourselves from the Sioux and get back to Crow territory.” He slowly shook his head as if the memory of fleeing those angry Sioux was an unpleasant one. “And when I returned her to her people, they were so thankful to have her back that they made me feel very welcome. So welcome that I stayed there for quite a while.”
“Do you speak their language?” JT asked.
Eli nodded.
“Were the Crow Indians nice?” Ruth asked.
He smiled. “Very nice. They were like family to me.”
“Thanks for telling us your story,” Ruth said politely. “It was almost like reading an adventure book.”
“A good bedtime story for you.” Elizabeth picked up her lantern. “How about if you bid everyone goodnight?”
Ruth looked disappointed but didn’t argue as she told everyone goodnight. As Elizabeth walked her back to their wagon, she could tell by Ruth’s lagging steps that she was more tired than she’d admit. “We’ve had a long and exciting day,” she said as she hung the lantern on the side of the wagon and helped Ruth climb into the back. “And tomorrow will be here before we know it.”
After getting Ruth tucked in and hearing her prayers, Elizabeth excused herself. “I want to make sure JT gets to bed too,” she told Ruth. And that was true, but she was also curious if Eli was telling any more stories about himself around the campfire. However, when she got back, Eli was gone, and it appeared that everyone else was heading for bed too.
Westward Hearts Page 26