Westward Hearts

by Melody Carlson

  “That’s a lovely wedding gift,” Elizabeth conceded as they went over to join some women from their unit. “I’m sure Matthew and Jess will appreciate it. It will be a wonderful keepsake of this journey.”

  “And I bought it all by myself,” Ruth proclaimed.

  With much to be done in preparation for the wedding, as well as the chores that came with daily living, the next couple of days passed all too quickly. And the June weather had been as pleasant as could be, each day prettier than the one before with tall green prairie grasses, tinged with occasional patches of wildflowers, blowing gently in the breeze. Temperate days and warm sunshine made the hardships of travel highly endurable. In times such as these, Elizabeth thought she could continue on like this indefinitely, and she said as much to her family as they were packing up to leave in the middle of the week.

  “Enjoy it while you can,” Asa warned as he knocked dust from his hat and secured it onto his head. “According to the captain, it’s all about to change.”

  “To change?” Ruth looked concerned. “What’s going to happen, Grandpa?”

  “We start climbing higher tomorrow,” he explained. “Bound for South Pass in the upcoming week.”

  “What’s wrong with that?” she asked.

  “Nothing’s wrong with it, Ruthie. To get to Oregon we have to get over some mountains first.”

  Her eyes lit up. “I can’t wait to see the mountains, Grandpa. I think it’ll be real exciting.”

  He nodded as he tapped his pipe onto a rock to empty the ashes. “It will be exciting. But it’s also a big challenge. Towing a heavily loaded wagon uphill is extra hard on the teams. And it’s hard on the people too. We’re coming to the part of the journey where our grist will be truly tried. The strength of our wagons and our livestock and even the emigrants will all be sorely tested.” He glanced at Clara. “It’s fortunate we’ve had plenty of time to toughen ourselves up, my dear. I doubt we’d have fared too well if we’d started out as greenhorns at this stage of the trip.”

  “But we’ll be all right, won’t we, Grandpa?” Ruth looked at him with wide eyes. “All of us? And the animals too?”

  “With the help of the good Lord, we will all make it just fine. But it’ll be hard work.” He cleared his throat. “All I’m saying is, enjoy these next few days because the easy part of this journey is about to end. And now it’s time to load up and get moving.”

  Elizabeth asked JT to drive so she could sit beside him and sew. Meanwhile, Brady would ride with Matthew, and Ruth had invited Tillie to ride with her and her grandparents. But just as the wagons were starting to roll, JT grew alarmed.

  “Ma, we forgot Flax.”

  “Forgot him?” She looked around their cleared-out camp. “Where is he?”

  “I don’t know,” he told her. “Now that I think of it, I haven’t seen him all morning.”

  “Wasn’t he here last night? At bedtime?”

  JT bit his lip. “He kept fussing in my hammock,” he told her. “So I put him out to sleep.”

  “Oh, well, that’s to be expected.” She glanced around. “Maybe he’s riding with Matthew or Grandpa. Why don’t you run and check before we start moving?”

  JT hopped down and ran up ahead, but when he returned, his expression was even graver. “No one’s seen him, Ma. Can I go call for him?” he asked.

  Now the wagons were just starting to move, and Elizabeth was unsure of what to do, so she pulled her wagon out of the line and then ran up ahead to explain to her father. “Flax is probably just over by the river,” she called out as she walked alongside. “Do you mind if I stay back until we find him?”

  Asa looked perplexed and then glanced over his shoulder. “Since our unit is last this week, it won’t be as if you’re holding others up. But don’t take long, Lizzie.”

  “Don’t worry, we should be along shortly,” she promised. “Flax never goes far. Besides, you know my team can move faster than the others anyway.”

  He grinned. “Beau and Belle might like a chance to kick up their heels.”

  She nodded, pulling James’ old barn jacket more snugly around as she stepped away. She knew she resembled an old farmer’s wife whenever she wore this coat, but it was just the right weight to keep off the morning chill.

  “Don’t let the train get out of your sight,” Asa yelled out at her as he popped the reins and his team started to move faster. She nodded, waving, and then turned back to join JT. “We have to hurry,” she told him. “Do you think Flax might be down by the river?”

  “I’m sure of it,” JT said.

  Together they hurried down to the river, calling and whistling all the way. But once they reached the water, there was no sign of the beloved yellow dog. “Do you think he fell in?” JT asked with fearful eyes.

  “I doubt it. And even if he did, Flax is a good swimmer. And the river’s not too deep or swift right here.”

  JT looked all around, calling and whistling some more. Still, there was no sign of the dog. “JT, I hate to say it, but we have to go,” she told him. “I promised Grandpa.”

  “Let me just run downriver a little ways,” JT said. “Back to where I went fishing with Grandpa and Brady last night. Flax had been real interested in an old stump. Maybe he went back there.”

  “You can’t go alone,” she told him. “I’ll go with you, but we’re going to move fast.”

  So they ran and walked downriver, calling and whistling all the while. Still no sign of the dog.

  “JT, that’s it. We have to go now,” she insisted.

  JT nodded, but Elizabeth could see the tears gathering in his eyes. And the lump in her throat seemed to grow bigger with each step. Still, she couldn’t allow them to keep looking. She’d promised her father.

  “Flax was the best dog ever,” she said sadly as they trudged back toward the wagon.

  “Don’t say was, Ma. He’s still alive. I just know it.”

  “Well, yes, I’m sure he is alive. Why wouldn’t he be? It’s just that…well…” She couldn’t think of one single comforting word to say to her brokenhearted son.

  As they reached their wagon, which looked strangely forlorn with all the other wagons a good distance up the trail now, JT whistled and called some more. Then he begged to go back down the trail a spell. “Maybe he smelled something back there,” he told her. “Like a fox or something. You know how he loves to chase critters.”

  She peered at the tail end of the wagon train, still within sight, but getting smaller by the minute. “I don’t know.”

  “Please, Ma. Flax has been my best friend ever since I can remember. And I didn’t let him sleep with me last night, so it’s my fault.”

  “It’s not your fault, JT. Flax just ran off. You can’t blame yourself.”

  “But how can I just leave him behind like this? You know what’ll happen to him out here on his own, don’t you?”

  She looked at the train and then back at JT as he used the back of his fist to wipe a stray tear. “We can only go a short ways back, son. And while you call and whistle, I’m going to pray. God has gotten us through some other predicaments. If he wants us to find Flax, I’m sure he can do that too.” So as they walked and as JT whistled and called, she prayed, begging God to send their dog back to them. She felt a tiny bit silly, not to mention doubtful, but at the same time the thought of losing Flax out here was more painful than she would have imagined possible.

  Goodness gracious, she told herself, he was only a dog. And yet James had picked Flax out as a pup. Flax was going to be James’ hunting dog. But the children had fallen in love with the fuzzy yellow pup, and before long he became a house pet. And then after James passed, he became a trusted watchdog. “Dear God,” she prayed out loud, “we don’t just love Flax, we need him too. Please send him back to us.”

  Still there was no sign of the dog, and she knew they couldn’t continue. Already she knew she’d have to push the team hard to catch up with the others before her father got worried.


  “JT,” she insisted. “That’s it. We have to go. I promised Grandpa.” She turned around, and to her surprise, they’d gone a fair ways from their own wagon. Worse yet, she could barely see the end of the wagon train. “Hurry, JT. I’m sorry, but we’ve got to get moving and rejoin the others.”

  They walked and ran back to the wagon and were just climbing up when JT spoke out in an unsteady voice. “Ma…?”

  Worried that he was about to break down into real sobs over the missing dog, she turned to him, ready to comfort him as she reached for the brake, but then she noticed he was pointing to the north with a worried expression. She leaned over to see past him, and there coming directly toward them was what looked like a small band of Indians. With her hand still on the brake, she was tempted to let it go—and go fast. But although she knew her horses were swift, she also knew that they couldn’t pull a fully loaded wagon faster than the Indians coming directly toward them. Plus there appeared to be at least a dozen of them. Maybe more.

  “Should I get the gun?” JT started to reach beneath the seat.

  “No,” she said quietly. The riders were so close and so many, she knew that to shoot would be not only useless but dangerous as well. She took her hand off the still-locked brake. “You stay in the wagon, JT.”

  “Are you getting out?” he asked with concern.

  “Yes. I want you to stay put,” she said firmly.

  “But, Ma.”

  “Let me handle this, JT.”

  Her knees were trembling as she climbed down and began to walk directly toward the party of Indians. As she walked she silently prayed, begging God to help her and JT. Then as she got closer to the Indians, to her astonishment, she noticed a yellow dog running alongside the horses.

  “Flax!” she cried out.

  In that same instant, JT had jumped down from the wagon and was bounding straight for their dog. Elizabeth gasped to see one of the Indians lifting up a bow, slipping in an arrow and taking aim.

  “Stop!” she screamed just as JT and Flax united in a happy scuffle on the ground. She wasn’t sure if she was talking to JT or the warrior, but she kept her eyes pinned on the shirtless Indian with the drawn bow, the arrow still aimed at her son. Then taking a deep breath, she continued to walk calmly toward the Indians, strategically placing herself between the warrior and her son.

  “You found our dog,” she said slowly and as pleasantly as if she were speaking to a neighbor. “Thank you so much.” She continued to stand between the Indians and JT, wondering what she should do next. If only she could give them something to show her gratitude for returning the dog—although she seriously doubted that was what they were doing. The Indian with the raised bow seemed proof of this.

  A breeze wafted past, causing her to notice something red dangling from her coat pocket. Ruth’s hair ribbon. She’d asked Elizabeth to tie a bow into her hair this morning, but they’d gotten too busy. Now Elizabeth slowly pulled the ribbon out, allowing the length of it to flutter in the breeze. Then, continuing to walk toward the Indians, she held the scarlet ribbon before her, almost like a truce flag.

  She was only a few feet away from them when someone spoke out. Surprised that it sounded like a female voice, Elizabeth peered past some of the men to spy a young woman seated on a horse. Holding a young child in front of her, she appeared to be addressing the Indian still wielding the raised bow. She was speaking passionately in quick, unintelligible words. Then suddenly, to Elizabeth’s surprise, the brave lowered his bow and actually laughed, almost as if the woman had told him something funny.

  Now, just standing there and wondering what to do next, Elizabeth locked eyes with the young woman for a long moment. Was it her imagination, or did she see compassion in this woman’s eyes? Then, with the red ribbon still fluttering in her hand, Elizabeth continued to slowly approach the man with the bow. She held the bright shiny ribbon up to him.

  “Thank you,” she told him. Then she nodded back to where JT and Flax were still behind her. “That’s our dog. Thank you.”

  The brave looked at the ribbon still fluttering in her hand and then over to JT and Flax. And then, almost as if he understood, he slipped his bow and arrow behind his back and reached down to take the ribbon. In a swift movement, he wrapped it around his wrist several times, securing it like a bracelet. And then he held it up and nodded with satisfaction.

  “Thank you,” Elizabeth said again, slowly backing away and hoping that the party would continue on their way.

  But the Indians remained put. And now they were talking among themselves, almost as if they were arguing. She imagined that some of them were suggesting they should kill both her and JT, burn their wagon, steal the horses, and run. And perhaps some of them, like the woman, were saying, “Let them be.” She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she wanted to get JT out of harm’s way.

  “Come on, son,” she calmly told him. “Get Flax and yourself into the back of the wagon, and I’m going to drive—fast.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Seated in the wagon, she had just put her hand on the brake when she saw the Indians were moving too—directly toward the wagon. As tempted as she felt, she knew it would be futile to reach for the gun. She’d seen how quickly the one brave had nocked his arrow and taken aim. Surely the others could do the same. They were only about ten feet away when the woman yelled something, this time to a different man. And now he rode his horse right up to her wagon.

  With his eyes on her, the brave reached behind him. Elizabeth took in a quick breath, expecting another drawn bow to appear. Instead, he pulled out something reddish brown and about the size of a water bucket. Then, with a loud thump, he dropped it in the dirt right next to her wagon. And with no further ado, all of the Indians eased past the wagon and continued south without looking back. Elizabeth watched in astonishment as the group traveled gracefully across the prairie, getting smaller and smaller.

  “What happened, Ma?” JT stuck his head out from the covered wagon. “What did they do?”

  “They dropped something,” she told him, cautiously climbing down to see what it was. “It’s a big piece of meat.” She bent down to pick up what felt like a ten-pound roast or better.

  “They gave us meat?” JT asked in wonder.

  “I’m guessing it must be buffalo.” Still feeling shocked, she placed the meat inside the game box beneath the water reservoir. Then she climbed back into the wagon and tightened the straps on her driving gloves. Releasing the brake, she flicked the reins and yelled, “Gid’up!” to the team. “We’ve got to catch up with the wagon train,” she told JT. “Before your grandpa sends out a search party.”

  “The Indians gave us meat?” JT said again.

  “They did.” She slowly shook her head, still trying to figure the mystery out for herself. What a strange encounter.

  It wasn’t until they were in sight of the wagon train and steadily gaining on them that she said what was on her mind. “JT, I don’t think we should tell your grandpa about what happened back there.”

  “You want me to lie to Grandpa?”

  “No, no, of course not. I’m just not sure I want him to know everything. I’m afraid it would worry him unnecessarily.” She gave JT a sheepish smile. “Also, he’d know that I messed up.”

  “You didn’t mess up, Ma.”

  “I didn’t do as he told me, JT. I never should have let the wagon train out of sight like that.”

  “It was my fault, Ma.”

  “But I’m in charge,” she reminded him. “I should have known better.”

  “But you were great, Ma.” JT’s eyes shone with pride. “You handled everything just right with those Indians.”

  She shook her head. “No, JT. I got lucky. Or more’n likely, God was helping us. But the fact of the matter is, we were where we shouldn’t have been. It could have turned out so much worse.” She shuddered to remember the sight of that drawn bow and the razor-sharp arrow.

  “But it didn’t, Ma.” He laughed nervo
usly. “Not only did the Indians bring Flax back to us, they gave us meat too.”

  She felt perplexed. “Why did they do that…I wonder?”

  “Was it because you gave them Ruth’s ribbon?”

  “It was all I could think of to give them… to thank them for Flax.”

  “Maybe they thought we were poor and starving,” he said.

  Elizabeth looked down at her worn-out barn jacket and sighed. “I suppose it might look like that. But what about our horses…our livestock?”

  “Maybe it was because we were out here by ourselves,” JT continued. “Without a man. Maybe they thought we were all on our own, Ma.”

  “Maybe so…” She nodded as she remembered the look in the woman’s eyes. It had felt like compassion… or pity. “Maybe they felt sorry for us.” Whatever it was, she felt certain of one thing—she did not intend to put herself in that situation again.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Somehow Elizabeth convinced JT not to repeat their strange story to Grandpa or anyone else in their family. She knew he was bursting to tell someone, but she also knew that his respect for her had grown some during that strange encounter. And that was reassuring in itself, especially because he seemed so bound and determined to become a man on this journey. It was a comfort to know that his mother still wielded some influence over him, even if only temporarily. As for the meat, Elizabeth had simply told her mother that one of their neighbors had donated it to them. Then, to avoid further questioning, she told Clara she needed to hurry. “I promised Ruth we’d go berry gathering before it’s time to help with supper.”

  “Someone on this train is a good hunter.” Clara nodded with approval as she rinsed off the dust-coated meat. “Mighty good hunter.”

  In the next couple of days, Elizabeth continued to wonder about the incident with the Indians. She even wrote about it in her journal in hopes of understanding it better. By now she suspected the group had been a hunting party, not a war party, as she’d originally assumed. After all, why would a woman and child travel in a war party? Yet it also seemed strange that a woman and child would travel in a hunting party. Or that a woman would have as much influence as that young woman seemed to have. Perhaps she was related to a chief. Even so, Elizabeth still couldn’t understand the unexpected gift of meat, which turned out to be bison. They could have easily killed Elizabeth and JT and stolen their valuable livestock. Instead, they gifted them with the meat. Why would they do that?