She rolled over and faced him with her tear filled eyes. “What?”
Gently, he said. “Don’t try to face this by yourself tonight, Elle. At least let me be your friend through it. It’s hard enough, without feeling like you’re alone.” She nodded and he reached for her hand. “Pray for peace, Elle. I’ll pray for you too. And I’m sure Mose is praying as well. It might be a long night, but we’ll get through it.”
She turned on her side and moved her head over next to his shoulder. “Thanks, Trace. For everything. I’m sorry for the trouble. Good night.”
“You’re welcome. And the trouble’s okay. That particular one is over anyway.” He squeezed her hand. “Good night, Elle.”
Once in the night he heard her crying again and rolled over and put his arm across her. When he awoke in the last dark before dawn, he was surprised to see Dog curled up beside her. Dog actually had his head on her arm and Trace wondered if he had known that she was deeply sad somehow. He must have, because he was fairly haunting her as she cooked when Trace came back through a few minutes later.
Her bedroll still lay beside his under the wagon and he quickly rolled them both up and tossed them inside his wagon before coming to the fire. He stopped beside her and she looked up at him steadily. She looked like she’d been upset, but she was going to be okay. He could see that in the resolute expression in her eyes. He dropped a hand to her shoulder and gave it a squeeze as she handed him a plate and cup. “Thanks, Giselle. It looks and smells wonderful.”
*****
Giselle didn’t think it smelled wonderful. After having thrown up in the night, this morning her stomach was roiling. It had been this way off and on during this pregnancy, but never as bad as it was this morning. She got breakfast ready, but after handing Trace his, she had to hurry to get out of camp before she was sick again in the brush beside the nearby stream. When she was finished, she was embarrassed to see that Mose was not far away and had seen how sick she was. He came to her and gently asked, “You okay?”
Nodding, she said, “I’m fine,” and hurried back toward camp. That morning after chores were done, and they pulled out, she talked to her grandparents for a while on the wagon seat as they drove. Josiah asked about the shooting the night before, and she told him that Filson had been killed and left it at that. Just thinking about it made her nauseous again and she had to climb down from the wagon and run to be sick. She knew Mose had seen it again, but there was nothing she could do about that.
Once back aboard, she felt awful and her grandmother encouraged her to climb into the back and try to find a place to rest as they traveled. Giselle gladly took her up on her offer. She was still there when they stopped for lunch and her grandmother brought her some food, hoping it would be easier to keep down while the wagon was still for a few minutes. Both Trace and Mose looked in on her, which made her feel both better and worse. It was great to be taken such good care of, but she so regretted bringing trouble into their train.
The afternoon went a little better, and by the time they stopped to circle into camp, she was able to face cooking again. She ate a minimal dinner, finished the chores of cleaning up and milking, and then went to bed immediately after praying to do better the next day.
After gratefully sleeping through an uneventful night, the next day did go better. She was sick again very first thing, but then was able to make breakfast, do the milking, and pack their lunch without having to run back out of camp again. She slept part of the afternoon in the back of the wagon too and that helped. This baby—or babies—made her so tired that she could hardly fathom it. That evening her grandmother did most of the cooking, but Giselle was able to get the other chores done and, after eating, went straight back to bed. She was sleeping so hard that she didn’t even know if Trace came to sleep by her because he was up and gone when she dragged out of bed the next morning.
Once more sick to the core, she rushed out of camp to be ill. Afterwards, she sat on a big flat rock on the way back to rest for just a second. She pulled her legs up beside her and bowed her head, knowing that she needed some help to get the terrible nausea under control. She needed to feel better than this to be able to handle all that this trip to Zion required of her, and no matter what, she didn’t want to become a burden that would slow them down. She heard a sound and opened her eyes to see Mose looking at her from across the little clearing.
She quickly got up and began to walk back to camp, but had to stop again before she made it very far. She had already lost what little was in her stomach this morning, so why was she still so green? Being caught by Mose again made her a little embarrassed around him later when she handed him his breakfast.
Finally, this day went better than the last couple and she felt so much stronger that she hoped she could put the worst of the morning sickness behind her again and get back to focusing on what needed to be done. That evening after dinner and the regular chores, she hurried to heat water in the big kettle to wash some laundry before dropping into bed dead tired again.
Whether it was the laundry or just being with child, the next morning, she was up even before Trace, being ill in the dark as far from camp as she was able to make it before she had to stop. She tried to be completely quiet, but apparently she wasn’t quiet enough, because a minute or two later, Mose appeared out of the pre-dawn gray. He walked up to her and handed her a handkerchief and a cold biscuit without saying a word, and then stood there with her while she wiped her mouth and moved to a nearby fallen tree to sit down. She started to eat the biscuit, praying it would somehow help her feel good enough to make it back to camp and through the morning.
Surprisingly, the biscuit did help. She finished it and then stayed seated for a minute to let it settle before starting back towards the wagons to get breakfast. Mose had just been looking at her this whole time and she wondered what she should say when, out of the blue, he said, “I was married once. Did you know that?” His voice was tired when he said it.
She looked up at him, but it was hard to read his expression in the dim light. “Was? You’re not anymore?”
He shook his head and then went on in an incredibly sad voice, “She died.”
Giselle didn’t know what to say or why he had told her that just now. “I’m so sorry, Mose.”
“Me too.” He almost whispered it. After a long pause he continued in a more conversational tone, looking her in the face all the while. “She was expecting a baby before she died. She was sick just like this.” He gestured towards Giselle and then waited for her to say something.
She looked up at him again, loathe to speak out loud the devastating truth that so far she’d only shared with her grandparents. She had no idea how to go about telling something so hard to face. Especially not to someone who she hadn’t known long. Before she had figured out how to answer him, he came right out and asked, “Where is the father?”
Dropping her eyes, she shook her head and said in a voice as sad as his was, “I was in the wrong place at the wrong time when a mob of Mormon haters came, Mose. I don’t even know which one of them was the father. The only one I even knew was Filson. He was the leader.”
There was what felt like a long, long pause before he said, “You need to tell Trace. He’d want to know.”
She was finally able to look up. “I can’t.” She hesitated and then shook her head again. “I can’t. And there’s no need. Eventually, I won’t be able to hide it and our marriage will be annulled and you’ll both be in California long before it’s due anyway. I’m sorry. I can’t face Trace just yet. The only ones other than you now that know are my grandparents.”
He was more adamant this time. “He’d want to know, Miss Giselle. He really is a doctor. A very good one. He would want to be able to take better care of you. There’s a reason they call it a delicate condition. And even though your marriage is a little unusual, you are married.”
She shook her head. “Not really, Mose. And that’s not the point anyway. Whether it’s a delicate con
dition or not doesn’t change what I need to do to help get west as fast as possible. Delay could well mean our lives. All of our lives.”
“Miss Giselle, it’s none of my business, but there’s no reason in the world not to adjust a few things to take better care of you.”
She raised her chin. “I’m absolutely fine, just as things are. So I’m sick when I get up and I tire easily. That’s nothing I can’t handle.” She got up. “Let’s don’t talk about this anymore. It’s better if I try not to think about it.”
Stopping her, he said, “No, Giselle, even if it was conceived in a horrible situation, a baby is a blessing from God. It was not its fault. And a new life should be celebrated.”
“That’s easy for you to say, Mose. Sometimes reality isn’t everything it should be.” She turned to go and then paused and turned back to him. “Mose, where is your baby?”
His face clouded. “The baby died too, Giselle. But it wasn’t mine. My wife was a slave. She died trying to deliver her master’s child.”
Her eyes flew to his. After a few seconds she said in almost wonder, “But you would have celebrated its new life.” It wasn’t a question.
He hesitated. “I’m no saint, Miss Giselle, but the life of a slave is hard enough. Add to that the stigma of being a mixed race child born in those circumstances. That child would have had enough trouble without being rejected by its own father. And I would have been its father just as Callie would have been its mother. Jesus would have wanted it that way.”
She came back to him and stood in front of him to look up. “Thank you, Mose. I needed to hear that.”
He shrugged. “Everyone has their own troubles, Miss Giselle. We just have to do the best we can with the hand we’re dealt.”
They turned to walk side by side back to camp. Before they reached it, she turned to him and asked, “Are you going to tell Trace?”
He shook his head. “That’s not my place, Giselle… But he’d want to know.”
Hesitating for a few seconds while she thought about that, she finally shook her head. “I can’t, Mose. I can’t. Not yet.”
Walking back into the quiet circle of wagons, she stopped and looked at Trace lying there still asleep. What Jesus would have wanted. That’s what Mose had said about celebrating another man’s child. What would Jesus have wanted in her situation? Would He want her to tell Trace or protect him from the truth as long as possible? She had no idea. Still wondering, she went to start breakfast, grateful for Mose’s biscuit and the help it had been in settling her stomach.
When Trace appeared and she dished him up his food, he stopped and hesitantly asked her, “Have I offended you somehow, Giselle?”
Surprised, she looked up at him. “Not at all, why?”
He shrugged, watching her. “You just haven’t spoken to me much the last couple of days. You’re already asleep when I come to bed and this morning you were even gone when I got up. I just wondered if you’re avoiding me for some reason since that Filson mess the other night.”
She faced him and decided to be as honest as she could. “You haven’t offended me, Trace. On the contrary, you’ve been wonderful. The other night made me a little sick to my stomach and it’s still rather unpredictable. And I’ve been tired. But I’ll do better about being more myself. I’m sorry you had to wonder.”
Gently, he asked her, “Are you okay? About the other night, I mean?”
Looking down she admitted, “It is better if I can not think about it. That is for sure. But when I do think about it, I always come back to the fact that I knew I needed to stop him. Looking back, I think I did what I had to do. But life is precious. Even his. And death is very permanent.”
He put a hand on her shoulder. “Give it some time. You’re going to be fine eventually. I promise.”
She put a hand up to his on her shoulder. “I think you’re right. Thank you.”
She made it a point to be awake when he came to his bed that night, even as tired as she was. The next morning as she was waking, he was already up and gone. She lay there in her bedding, hesitating, because she knew that as soon as she sat up, she was going to be sick. While she was still lying there, Mose came by and handed her another cold biscuit and said, “Eating a little something before she got up always helped my Callie. Maybe this will help you feel better.”
Taking it gratefully, she hoped he was right. “Thank you, Mose. I owe you.”
“No, Miss Giselle, I’m still clear behind in owing you, but I’m working on it.” He smiled and went on about his morning chores, and a few minutes later Giselle got up and went about hers too. The biscuit worked wonderfully and she felt happier and more energetic that day than she’d felt in a long, long time. Every morning after that, Mose would come and slip her a biscuit, and the nausea became much more manageable.
Chapter 4
Slowly, but surely, she was learning how to do all the new things she had to do. She had cooked in Holland, but most of the other things like laundry, milking, or even driving the mules were things she had always had done for her back home. It had been hard to learn to be more self sufficient here in America, and especially here in the wagon train, but her sense of pride and accomplishment were well worth the trouble.
The one thing that she was still having trouble with was learning to knit. One of the sister Saints in Nauvoo had started teaching both her and Petja before leaving on an earlier train, and Petja had become accomplished, but Giselle couldn't seem to get it. She was the first to laugh at herself as she struggled with the long needles and tangles of yarn, and it had become something of a teasing point among the five of them.
So far the hardest thing to deal with was the fact that she was becoming foolishly attached to Trace. Even though she knew that their married days were numbered, and that when they reached the valley of the Great Salt Lake he would be leaving her as fast as he could to get over the mountains, she still thoroughly enjoyed being around him far too much. She was trying not to, but he was a hard man not to be enamored with. Not only was he very good looking, he was also hard-working, generous, smart, and gentle and… The list could go on and on, although Giselle was constantly trying not to notice all of this.
Nights were the hardest. Sometimes she was ridiculously aware of this very attractive man sleeping next to her and sleep was a little elusive. Not only that, but several times when she had had a bad dream, he would simply put a hand on her shoulder or back, and the fear would miraculously dissipate to be replaced by a sweet peace that she basked in. They weren't far into their journey when she realized that she would be perfectly happy to travel with him like this for however long she could.
They also weren't very far into their journey when the problems they had known they would encounter along the way became troubling. The dust had been a problem from nearly the first day, but because they were near the front of the wagon train, they had been spared the misery that the men at the back had been enduring. At first Giselle had wondered why the wagons didn't change positions, but then she'd heard the wagon master talking to Trace about the fact that he wanted Trace to lead out and find the best travel routes and water and camp spots.
Everyone in the train deferred to Trace's judgment on most everything, and it made her respect him all the more. However, even with his wonderful judgment, finding enough feed for the stock en route was a problem. The settler trains that had gone before had eaten most of the grass down and crushed what they didn't eat, and this late in the year, there wasn't much new graze growing.
She'd known that people in their own train would be problematic as well, but she didn't know how soon that would occur. Twice Trace and Mose had made reference to Trace being a doctor, but she hadn't truly realized they were serious until one night when one of the teamsters was brought back to the train with a gunshot wound.
They had passed Fort Kearney that day, and after going into camp that night, some of the more unruly drivers had headed into the fort to go to the saloon that was nearby. Trace an
d Giselle were already in bed and asleep when they were awakened by the rather inebriated teamsters. Apparently, some of them had had words with men at the fort and an argument had broken out. Shots had been fired and one of the teamsters was in danger of bleeding to death from a bullet wound in his side. Not only was he bleeding, but the bullet was still lodged in him.
Trace immediately got out of bed and Giselle followed, wondering what was going on. They took the unconscious driver and laid him on the tailgate of one of the wagons and put three lanterns next to him. Mose appeared with a black medical bag and Trace washed his hands twice and then proceeded to examine the ugly wound. Giselle was so amazed as she watched him remove the bullet and begin cleaning and stitching the ragged hole that she didn't even think about being sick at the gore. It wasn't until she felt lightheaded as he cleaned and bandaged the now neatly stitched hole that she realized she was going to be violently ill.
This time they all knew she lost it. She hadn't made it thirty feet away from the area where they were working before she was sick. On returning to bed a while later, Trace looked at her in the dark with concern. "You okay, Elle?"
Embarrassed, she tried to act like it was nothing. "I'm fine. Actually, I thought it was fascinating. You really are a doctor! For some reason, I didn't think you were serious that night. I was so busy being amazed that I didn't realize I was going to be sick. Sorry."
Gently he said, "It's okay. Does blood bother you?"
She shook her head. "Not usually." She paused. "Why are you freighting goods when you are an accomplished physician?"
He sounded a little hesitant in the dark. "I honestly don't know the answer to that. My father is a doctor back in Georgia; and I helped him for years and then went to a medical college in Pennsylvania for two years. I wanted to go another year, but Mose's wife died and it changed some things for us. It was a bad experience.
“My parents didn't have slaves. In fact, they adopted Mose right into our family when he was seven. He'd been brought to my father after being beaten into a coma. We weren't slavers, but many of the people there were. His wife was a slave.
Journey of Honor A love story Page 5