Dusk shadowed the camp when Wolf joined them for supper. After Meshach said the grace, Ophelia dished the fried fish onto tin plates, and they all found a place to sit, mostly cross-legged on the ground.
Seemingly without his volition, Wolf found himself between two women—Jane Ellen with adoring eyes and Jesselynn who refused to look at him. Now what have I done, or not done, as the case may be? He slanted a peek to his right and saw Jesselynn helping her little brother cut his meat. How could he ever have bought her story that she was Marse Jesse? Surely if he had paid more attention he would have seen her tenderness with the children, her caring for her aunt, and the young woman on the other side whose doe eyes made him want to squirm.
“Seen anythin’ of Jones?” Meshach looked up from his plate.
Even the thought of the worthless Rufus made his jaw tighten. “No. He most likely hightailed it on to Fort Laramie.” If the Indians didn’t get him first. Any day he expected to come across a carcass, minus the scalp. It would be a fitting end.
“Good fish.”
“Thanks to Daniel.” Meshach nodded to the young man sitting beside him.
“I strung out a trotline. Why don’t de others?”
“Perhaps you could teach ’em how.”
Daniel shrugged. “Mebbe.” But his look said far more.
“We’ll come on Chimney Rock soon, then a couple days to crossin’ the South Fork of the Platte.” Because he’s black, the others don’t want to learn from him, then they mutter and grumble about how the Highwood wagons eat better than the rest. Yet they always share. I’m sick to death of this insane backbiting. Visions of high country with cool winds singing through the pine trees, Indian tepees instead of white-sailed wagons, his people laughing and dancing after the day’s hunt. Home. He could almost smell it on the air.
Could he leave the wagon train at Fort Laramie and head north? Who would take it on?
He looked up to see those around him staring at him. “Could you repeat that?”
“I asked how many days to Fort Laramie?” Aunt Agatha covered her hand with her apron and picked up the coffeepot. “Anyone else ready for this?”
Wolf held up his cup. “Should be there in four to six days, depending on how the river crossing goes. We’ll be at the ford tomorrow. California Hill after that.”
“I see to the caulkin’ den.”
“You have any grease left?”
“Yes, suh. We brought plenty like you said back to Independence.”
If only the others had listened as well. He wouldn’t ask anyone to share with the Joneses. But theirs was the wagon that would cause the most trouble. He was sure of it.
By late afternoon the sprinkles turned to heavy rain, so that by the time they circled the wagons near the ford, man and beast were sodden. With thunder rolling and lightning forking the sky, Wolf ordered everyone to bring in their own animals and tie them on long lines to keep them from stampeding.
Jesselynn clamped her legs to keep Ahab under control. Head high, the stallion snorted and shifted beneath her. “Easy, old son. You’ve been through a lightning storm before.” The rain ran cold from the brim of her hat and down her neck. Could have been ice, the temperature had dropped so fast. She tied him to a rear wheel of their wagon and climbed inside to sit cross-legged on a box and eat dried biscuit and dried buffalo with the rest of them. There’d be no fires this night.
The rain continued through the night, raising the river a foot by morning. Brown froth rushed toward the east with the opposite shore shrouded in rain sheets.
Jesselynn rode up to the three men gathered on the bank.
“I vote we go on over. Two feet deep ain’t much. We crossed deeper.”
“I heard there could be holes runnin’ deeper. Sure did pick up the pace some overnight.” They both looked to Wolf.
Jesselynn tried to read some expression on either face or body, but Wolf stood still as a well-sunk fence post.
The sounds from the circled wagons were blurred just like her vision. Ahab snorted and dug in the mud with one front foot.
Wolf looked toward the west from where the storm blew in. He sniffed the air, turned slowly to study the sky in all four directions, then nodded. “Looks to be breakin’ up. Give it an hour, and then we decide.”
Two hours later the first wagon entered the rushing water. A whip cracked. The driver yelled orders to his four oxen. Two men rode by the lead team, one on either side.
Wolf gave last-minute orders. “Now, if your wagon starts to float, go easy with the current, but keep angling toward the shore. Just keep a steady hand on those reins. Your oxen can swim if they have to.”
One by one, the wagons entered the river. Some floated, some angled upstream, some floated down. Jesselynn pulled up behind the Jones wagon. Benjamin on Ahab and Daniel on Domino rode point.
Wolf stopped his horse next to Jesselynn. “Wait until they get over that sandbar before you start in.”
“Right.” She watched the wagon ahead grow fainter in the mist. “Here we go.” She flicked the reins when a shout went up from the wagon ahead. “Oh, God, no!” The wagon tipped and fell.
Wolf spun his horse and leaped into the river.
“Whoa!” Jesselynn pulled back on the reins. “Go help.” She need not have said a word, for Daniel and Benjamin were already following Wolf.
“Oh, Lord above, much as I hate—no dislike—those folks, please protect them.”
“Jesselynn, can you see anything?” Jane Ellen leaned on Jesselynn’s shoulder.
“No.” Oh, Lord, this could be us. But it’s not. There’s justice, Lord. Jones is such a rotten man. Guilt grabbed her by the throat and shook her. Such a thing to think. Lord, forgive me, please. I’m sorry for even thinking such a thing. What kind of a Christian am I? Mother, what you would say to me?
With all the ropes on the wagon, they had it righted and pulled it out of the river before Wolf came back to signal the next wagon.
With a prayer on her lips, Jesselynn started into the river.
“Swing to the upstream just across the sandbar. There’s a hole off to the right.”
“Are the Joneses all right?”
Wolf didn’t answer.
With Daniel and Benjamin on either side of the lead team, the oxen pulled steady, up over the sandbar and back in the water. One bellowed. They drew closer to the shore. She popped the whip, her feet braced against the boot board. Throwing themselves against the yokes, the oxen hauled the wagon up the gentle incline and out of the river.
“We did it!” Jane Ellen threw her arms around Jesselynn. “Thank you, Lord. We made it.”
Jesselynn wrapped the reins around the brake handle, stood on shaking legs, and climbed down over the wheel to stand on firm ground again. She went around the wagon and reached up to grab Thaddeus and squeezed him tight.
He patted her cheeks. “You good driver, Jesse.” He looked over her shoulder. “Meshach comin’.”
Jesselynn looked up at the sound of a keening wail from the Jones wagon. She glanced at Jane Ellen, who shook her head, eyes wide.
Meshach pulled up beside them and helped Aunt Agatha to the ground. “Never thought I’d be so grateful to stand on dry ground again.” She stamped her foot to make the point. “Thank you, Lord above.”
They stood and watched the crossing of the remaining wagons. Two men lassoed the ox horns to assist the next wagon, which was floundering, and the last one made it to the far shore without incident. They circled the wagons on the northern verge so some could hang things out to dry.
Jesselynn inspected their wagons and found no leaks, thanks to Meshach’s careful caulking. She could hear others grumbling. The rain had let up somewhere during the crossing, and thanks to the sandy soil, the puddles had disappeared. Ophelia started a fire with the twigs Jane Ellen and the boys brought back from the brush along the river and added the cow and buffalo chips they’d collected during previous days’ walks. With the kettle boiling, she added shaved dried bu
ffalo meat, the last of the remaining vegetables, and the rice she’d been saving. The savory smell rose to tantalize while Ophelia mixed up dumplings.
Jesselynn made her way over to the Jones wagon, much against her better judgment. She wanted to leave them to their soaked fate, but the sobbing hadn’t ceased. Everyone else seemed to be ignoring them.
Jesselynn drew even with the boxes stacked alongside the wagon.
“Shut up, woman! Just shut up!”
Jesselynn stopped. The crack of hand against flesh made her flinch. She stepped around the wagon to see Tommy Joe, hands clenched, standing over his wife. Mrs. Jones cowered on the ground, her baby clenched in her arms.
Tommy Joe reached for the soaked blanket-wrapped bundle. “He’s dead.”
“Leave her be!” Jesselynn stepped forward.
“Get outa here, you . . . you . . . interfering wench.” Fists raised, he came at her.
With a growl like an attacking bear, Wolf grabbed Jones by the shoulder, spun him around, and planted a fist in Jones’s face. Tommy Joe staggered, slumped to his knees, and toppled to the ground. Blood ran from his smashed nose.
Jesselynn knelt by the sobbing woman. She wrapped her arms around the thin shoulders and held her close, the wet bundle between them. Oh, Lord, what can I say? No words came, so the two women rocked together.
After the tragedy of the river they took the steep climb up and over California Hill with extreme care. The men braced against the wheels of each wagon to keep it from rolling over the oxen. Though it was grueling, Jesselynn knew it was just a foretaste of what was ahead for them when they reached the mountains. By the time they reached Ash Hollow, an extra day of rest was more than needed.
The morning they forded the river to Fort Laramie should have been a celebration, but discontent simmered beneath the surface like a kettle on slow boil. More than one family muttered that leaving the Joneses at Fort Laramie would be the best possible way to settle things.
They circled the wagons just south of the fort and made camp.
“Leastwise we don’t have to worry about those Indians any longer.” Aunt Agatha said what the others were thinking now that they were within the protection of the fort.
Jesselynn nodded. “Think I’ll ride on in to the quartermaster tonight and see about ordering our supplies.”
“Me go?” Thaddeus looked up from where he was digging a hole in the dirt with a stick.
“No, I—“ But at the way his face fell, she changed her mind. “Why not? Come on, let’s go get Roman.”
The smile he gave her as he took her hand reminded her what little it took to make him happy. Riding with his big sister was one of those things. After bridling the mule, she set Thaddeus up on the bony back and swung herself up behind him. Handing him the reins, she nudged Roman forward. “You make sure you keep him goin’ straight now, you hear?”
“I hear.” His shoulders straightened as if she’d just asked him to take over the family.
At home he’d be riding a pony all by himself in the paddock by now. All the Highwood children could ride nearly before they could run, or at least it seemed that way. All but Thaddeus, another casualty of the war. Jesselynn dropped a kiss on his soft hair. He should be wearing a hat already too, but she had neither the time nor materials to make him one. So many things left undone, her daddy must be rolling over in his grave. Thoughts of her father made her shoulders slump. Sometimes the burdens got so heavy she could barely breathe.
As Meshach would say, “Time to put dem all back in de Lawd’s hands—and leave dem dere.” The leaving them there was the hard part.
“Ugh, bluebellies.” Thaddeus snapped her back to attention.
“No. Don’t you call them that.” She gave him a gentle shake.
“You do.”
“Not anymore. We’ve gone beyond the war. They are United States soldiers, and we are United States citizens. That’s what your daddy always said.”
“Bluebellies kill my daddy.”
Oh, Lord, preserve us. What can I say? He is so right. Jesselynn sucked in a deep breath in the hopes it would help her think better. “Daddy was a casualty of the war, just like so many others. We have to forgive and forget.” So we aren’t destroyed too.
Jesselynn glanced up in time to catch the sight of a man disappearing behind one of the whitewashed buildings. “Jones!” That scum is still alive.
To tell Wolf or not dogged her all the way back to the camp. Thaddeus leaned against her chest, blissfully sucking on his peppermint stick. The hunk of cheese would bring cries of delight from those at the wagons, and the molasses would taste wonderful on pancakes in the morning. But if the others found out about Jones, would they demand a lynching?
Keeping the news to herself for now seemed the better part of wisdom, she had decided by the time they rode into camp. She lowered Thaddeus and his sack of peppermint sticks to the ground. “Now you go share those, you hear?”
He nodded and ran off, little-boy legs pumping, calling for Sammy and Jane Ellen.
She stripped the bridle off Roman and, with a swat on the rump, sent him galloping back to the herd. With the sack of supplies swung over her shoulder, she made her way back to the wagons, with each step wishing she hadn’t seen what she had.
“Thought a trip to the store would take away that thundercloud sittin’ on your head, not make it worse.” Agatha studied her niece and lowered her voice. “Now, what is it botherin’ you? No mail?”
Jesselynn shook her head. Seeing Jones had plumb driven the mail out of her mind. Another thing to hold against him. “Forgot to ask.” She handed the tow sack to her aunt.
“What, then? You look blacker’n a bog at night.”
Jesselynn sighed. She should have known better than to think she could pull off carrying a secret like that. “I saw Jones at the hostelry.”
Agatha sighed and shook her head at the same time. “I know it isn’t Christian, but I sure was hopin’ the prairie or the Indians got him. You goin’ to tell Wolf?”
Jesselynn shook her head. “Not unless I have to. Maybe the scum will just stay clear if he has any sense at all.”
“Sure.” Agatha rolled her eyes and opened the sack. “Ah, cheese. We can have it on biscuits for supper.”
The camp had settled for the night when Jesselynn heard a shout. Rolling to her feet, gun already in hand, she stood beside the wagon searching the blackness for the reason. She could feel the warmth from Meshach right beside her.
“Hold ‘im. He ain’t gonna get away this time!” came the shout.
“Let’s go,” Jesselynn said, and together the two of them headed across the circle at a run.
FORT LARAMIE
“Drop your guns.”
Jesselynn spun at the guttural command. Wolf stood slightly behind her and off to the right, rifle in one hand, Colt in the other. She lowered her gun, realizing he wasn’t even looking at her and Meshach. The men holding Jones stepped back from their captive, and those with guns holstered them.
“You can’t be sticking up for the scum, Wolf. You know McPhereson died because this lowlife was too tired to stand watch properlike.”
“He deserves a chance to say his piece to the military. They’re in charge of the peace around here.”
“I say let’s just string ‘im up.”
“I din’t sleep on watch. He hit me.” Rufus whined like the bully-turned-weakling he was.
One of the men gave him a shove. “Then why’d that Indian not slit your throat too?”
Jones shrugged. “How should I know? I was just coming to when Highwood and her nigger run up.”
“Then why’d ya run?”
“Reckoned they’d think I kilt Mac, that’s why.”
Jesselynn about choked on her rage. Meshach said he’d been lying on his bedroll or in it. Either way . . .”Don’t believe a word he says,” she hissed loudly enough for Wolf to hear.
“How’d you know Mac was dead?”
Silence.
&nbs
p; “He’s lyin’, the dirty cur.”
“Enough.” Wolf took two steps forward. “Get some rope and tie his hands behind his back, then to a wagon wheel. We’ll take him into the fort in the morning.”
The men muttered and grumbled, but they did as he ordered. As soon as Jones was tied to the wheel, they moved off. Thunder rumbled in the distance, the smell of rain sweet on the breeze.
Jesselynn turned to head back to her bedroll. So Jones might get a bit wet. Far as she could see, more than his clothes needed washing. And some starch in his backbone wouldn’t hurt neither. “You know he was lying.”
“I knows. But de officer be de one to say, not us.”
“I didn’t think he’d be stupid enough to try and sneak into camp. What if his brother lets him go?”
“With Wolf guardin’ ‘im?”
“Oh.”
A shadow by their wagon revealed a man as they neared. “Your turn on watch, Meshach.”
“I know. Be right dere.”
“You better get a slicker.” She lifted her face to feel the first drops of the coming rain. Thunder rumbled again. “You want some extra help in case the storm spooks the cattle?”
“I go wid ‘im.” Benjamin handed Meshach a slicker. “I got Roman cotched already.”
“Be careful.” When she closed her eyes she could still see the dark slash of death across McPhereson’s throat.
“Indians not come dis close to de fort.” Meshach settled his hat more firmly on his head.
“I wouldn’t want to bet your lives on it.” She handed Benjamin her gun and drew more bullets out of her pocket. “As I said, be careful.”
By morning everything not under canvas in camp was soaked, with water standing in puddles and the rain still sheeting down. The thunder and lightning had passed in the darkest hours without doing more than making the herd restless.
Jesselynn had heard Meshach singing during the night. The oxen seemed as comforted by it as she was.
With morning those assigned to the herd drove them down to water and then took them farther from camp for better grazing. Daniel made sure the Thoroughbreds stayed toward the center of the herd so as to be less visible to the officers at the fort.
A Secret Refuge [02] Sisters of the Confederacy Page 29