THE Prairie DREAMS Trilogy

by Susan Page Davis

  “Yes, he did,” Elise said. “In St. Louis.”

  “Well, I guess he thought he was a better shopkeeper than he was a farmer.”

  “I don’t suppose you know where in Oregon he planned to settle?”

  “No, I don’t, ma’am. Sorry.”

  “That’s all right. You’ve been very helpful.”

  Elise rushed out to the wagon and called to Anne, “You’ll never guess! I’ve got some solid word on your uncle at last.”

  Anne rose to her knees and clutched the wagon’s sideboard. “No! Really?”

  Elise nodded and lifted her skirt in preparation for climbing in at the back of the wagon. Abby and Ben, the brother between Wilbur and Lavinia in age, reached for her arms and hoisted her up.

  “This gentleman is another wagon master, and he says David went with him on a train five years ago, headed for Oregon. We’re on the right trail, Anne!”

  “Well now,” Rebecca said with a nod. “Your persistence paid off.”

  “Finally.” Anne sank back and stared at Elise with wide eyes. “But…five years ago?”

  “That’s what the gentleman said, and he seemed quite certain. He thought David had been farming for a few years before he joined the wagon train.”

  “Well, think of that,” said Rebecca.

  “Are you staying here tonight?” Mr. Harkness asked.

  “Oh. No, we’re not. I’m sorry—I should have told you that at once. The hotel is full.” Elise smoothed her skirt as the wagon lurched forward. Somehow beds and baths didn’t matter anymore. They’d had word of David, and they would find him.

  The night was still inky black when a piercing horn sounded across the field, signaling that it was time to rise and prepare to move out.

  Eb was already poking at the embers in the rock fireplace where he and Rob cooked their meals when they weren’t invited to share with one of the emigrant families. Rob came back from the center of the camp, where he’d blown the alert, smiling and polishing the bugle with his sleeve.

  “You like that thing entirely too much,” Eb said.

  “It is a beauty. Traded a pair of beaded Blackfoot moccasins for it.”

  “You’ve told me that story a thousand times.”

  Rob sighed and stooped to tuck the bugle into one of his saddlebags. “It feels good to be getting onto the trail again.”

  Eb grunted and reached for the battered coffeepot. He’d feel a lot better when they reached Oregon. “I’ll fetch some water.”

  “Got some yonder.” Rob nodded toward where a galvanized bucket stood with a feed sack draped over it.

  By the time Eb had the coffee on, Rob had four eggs, a slab of bacon, a frying pan, and some stale johnnycake laid out.

  “May as well use the last of the eggs.”

  Eb frowned. “Guess we forgot to get more. Only a couple of people have laying hens along.”

  “We’ll live.” Rob squatted before the fire and fed two more sticks onto it. “I can tend breakfast if you want to make sure the drovers are rounding up the mules and oxen.”

  Eb walked out to the corral where they’d penned the animals the night before. Farmers and hired hands were sorting out the teams for each wagon. On the trail, they’d have to use the wagons themselves to form an enclosure for the stock, but here at the departure place they had the luxury of a separate fenced area. Mules neighed and shifted about inside. A horse nickered, and oxen lowed. The sprinkling of cows mooed to let their owners know they were ready to be milked. The men dodged about among the animals.

  “Everything going all right?” Eb called to Abe Leonard.

  “We’ll figure it out.”

  Eb smiled and went back to the campfire.

  “That was quick,” Rob said. “I haven’t even cooked the eggs yet.”

  “I’ll go back in a few minutes if they haven’t started to bring the teams in and hitch up. Looked like they had enough men out there in the dark.”

  “The sun’ll be up before you know it,” Rob said.

  Eb squinted eastward, toward the river. He could discern a lighter gray band of sky on the horizon. “Wonder how Miss Finster and her young friend are doing.”

  As soon as he’d spoken, he wished he hadn’t. Rob already ragged him mercilessly about the Englishwomen, teasing him about what he perceived as Eb’s regard for Miss Finster.

  “I’m sure the ladies will be fine,” Rob said. “I haven’t talked much with the man they hired, but he seems capable.”

  “I’ll go by their wagon later,” Eb said. He thought about shaving. He usually let his beard grow while they were on the trail. Maybe he’d start it today. Or maybe not.

  He walked over to his pile of gear and pulled out his soap and razor.

  “You can handle it,” Peterson said. He passed Costigan a handful of bills. “You know people all the way along the trail from here to Oregon. I’m sure you can get word of this man. Just make sure you know where he is before his relatives do, and get the job done.”

  Thomas tried to count the money in the semidarkness.

  “That’s all you’ll get until you report something definite,” Peterson said. “Send word as quick as you can, so the boss knows.”

  Thomas gave up trying to see the denominations. It looked like enough, seeing as how his food and a small salary were being paid by the ladies. He’d never before heard of a job where you got paid twice. He shoved the money in his pocket and looked anxiously toward the road.

  “I’ve got to get back there. Whistler’s horn blew ten minutes ago. If I don’t get the mule team up, he’ll be suspicious and the ladies will be out of sorts.”

  “Go. Just don’t forget to send word along the way, as often as you can without making it noticeable.”

  Peterson mounted his horse and trotted off toward Independence.

  “What shall we do?” Anne wrung her hands as she paced beside the wagon, looking toward the corral.

  The men of the company had driven most of the pulling teams into the encampment and were busy hitching them to their wagons.

  Anne and Elise had eaten and cleaned up afterward. Elise had held back a plate for Thomas and couldn’t pack the dish box away until his cup, plate, and fork were in it. The coffeepot still steamed over the dying fire, and the grate was cooling so they could pack it.

  But Thomas Costigan had not shown his face that morning. The sun was rising, and everyone else seemed nearly ready to pull out, but their mule team was still in the corral with the extra livestock.

  “I suppose we’d better go find those mules.” Elise made the decision as she spoke. She hitched up her skirt. “We can’t let everyone else be ready before us. We told Mr. Whistler and Mr. Bentley we wouldn’t slow them down.”

  “That’s true. And we wanted to come without hiring a man, so even without Thomas, we should be ready when the others are.” Anne tied her shawl about her shoulders so she could use both hands to work. “Let’s go.”

  They set off briskly to the corral. Nick Foster, the fifteen-year-old son of a farmer, was milking his family’s cow just inside the gate.

  “Good morning, Nicholas,” Elise said. “We need to get our mules. I wonder if you could tend the gate for us.”

  “Surely, ma’am. One moment while I finish here.”

  “Perhaps we can go locate the team while you do that,” Anne said.

  Elise walked to the gate. It was fastened with a simple loop of twine over both the gatepost and an upright pole on the gate. She lifted the loop and swung the gate open.

  “Careful,” Nick called. “Don’t let the other cattle out.”

  Elise quickly drew the gate back until it was open only far enough for her to step inside. She and Anne squeezed into the corral, and she turned to replace the twine.

  Anne’s sharp intake of breath made her whirl around. A huge ox ambled toward them, his head wagging from side to side. Anne clutched Elise’s arm.

  “Will he hurt us?”

  “I don’t think so.” Elise’s
pulse roared as the ox came closer. Her mouth went dry, and her stomach flipped. “Nicholas?”

  Nick called, “Oh, don’t worry about him. That’s just Bright. He’s one of my father’s extra oxen.”

  Even though all the other teams had been removed, a large herd of animals remained in the pen. Elise tried to ignore Bright, who now stood solidly a yard in front of her.

  “Do you see our mules?”

  “I’m not sure I’d know them from anyone else’s.” Anne’s voice had a pronounced tremor.

  “I believe Mr. Costigan marked the straps on their halters,” Elise ventured. She should have paid more attention to the livestock question, but she’d gladly given the matter over to Thomas.

  She grasped Anne’s hand and led her cautiously around Bright. The big ox lowered his head and let out a thunderous bellow. Anne yelped.

  “Nicholas,” Elise shouted.

  He strode quickly into the pen with something that looked suspiciously like a smirk on his lips.

  “I’m here, ma’am. How can I help you?”

  “We…need to locate our mules.”

  “Yes’m. How many you got?”

  “Six,” Elise said, “but we only want to hitch up four of them.”

  Nick nodded and set off across the corral.

  Elise held her skirt up and followed. “Watch your step, Anne.”

  “This one’s yours,” Nick called, and Elise hurried toward him.

  “Can you take two at a time?” he asked.

  “Umm…”

  The young man shook his head as though she were helpless. Elise hated the feeling of inadequacy. They hadn’t even started the journey, and already she’d proven incompetent.

  “Take this one. I’ll bring two. Miss Stone, can you take one?”

  “I think so.” Anne sounded hesitant.

  “Lead him over to the gate,” Nick said to Elise. “If you don’t think you can get him to your wagon, I’ll come back. You didn’t bring any lead ropes, did you?”

  “No,” Elise said.

  “All right. I’ll grab those two mules over there. Let’s go.”

  Leading the mule to the camp was terrifying yet exhilarating. Elise flinched every time the beast moved his head, afraid she’d lose her hold on the halter. The path seemed much longer than it had when they’d approached the corral, but at last she and the mule, whom she’d mentally nicknamed Challenger, arrived at the wagon.

  “You present a challenge,” she said softly to the big mule. “If I can’t meet it, I shall have failed Anne and debased the purpose of our journey. Therefore, I shall face this challenge, and I shall win.”

  There were the lead ropes she and Anne should have taken, hanging from the back of the wagon. She held firmly to Challenger’s halter. Anne had fallen back about ten yards and seemed to be struggling with the mule she led. Elise grabbed a rope, hooked it to Challenger’s halter, tied the other end to an iron ring on the frame of the wagon, and grabbed a second rope. She hurried back to help Anne.

  “Here we go.” She clipped the rope to the smaller brown mule’s halter. “I’ll take him.”

  Anne let go of the strap and stepped back with a sigh. “Thank you. He stepped on my foot twice.”

  Nick passed her, leading two more mules.

  “There are ropes at the back of the wagon,” Elise called.

  “Where’s your harness?”

  “Oh. In the wagon.”

  “Best get it out,” Nick said.

  Grateful beyond words, Elise decided the best way to thank him would be to secure Anne’s beast and get the harness ready. She found it easily, in a large wooden crate inside the wagon, near the back opening.

  “Anne,” she called out through the gap in the canvas.

  “I’m here.” Anne stepped up close to the tailboard.

  “Let me hand down the collars to you, and I’ll try to get the harness.”

  Elise passed two of the padded leather collars out.

  “Wait,” Anne said. “I don’t think I can carry any more.” She disappeared.

  Elise set the others out, ready to pass down on Anne’s return. She reached into the crate for the huge mass of straps and buckles that was the harness. Long sticks with brass knobs on the end seemed to be a part of it. What were those things called? Perhaps Nick could tell her. She tugged at a wide leather strap, but it all seemed connected.

  “Ready for more,” Anne called from outside.

  “Oh, here.” Elise handed her the other two collars. “I’m not sure I can get the harness out by myself.”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  A minute later, Anne clambered in at the front of the wagon and crawled over their trunks, sacks, and bundles to where Elise was working. Together they managed to haul the harness out of the crate and tip it out the back of the wagon into a heap on the trampled grass.

  “Which two mules are the wheelers?” Nick yelled from the front of the wagon.

  “I…have no idea,” Elise confessed.

  “We’ll put the biggest ones at the back, then.”

  “Nicholas!” The strident female voice reached them from halfway across the bustling encampment.

  Nick turned toward it, shielding his eyes. “Yeah, Ma?”

  “Where’s the milk?”

  “Down to the corral. I had to help these ladies get their team up.”

  “Well, you go get it, young man! The idea! You need to do for your own family this morning, not those fancy ladies.”

  “All right, Ma.”

  Nick turned back to Elise with gritted teeth. “Sorry.”

  “It’s all right,” Elise said. “You go and do as your mother says. We can do the rest.”

  It was a gross overstatement, as Elise knew, but Nick hurried away toward the pen.

  Anne’s lips trembled, and Elise wondered if they had the same thought. The way Mrs. Foster said “fancy ladies” sounded vulgar. Could she possibly be casting aspersions on their morals? The American women didn’t seem to know what to make of them. Their accents and clothing set them apart. Mrs. Foster and the other forty or so women on the wagon train were trying to classify them.

  She drew in a deep breath. “All right, Anne. Let’s see if we can separate the harnesses and lay them out in one pile for each mule.”

  Anne seemed relieved to be given a task that didn’t involve touching the animals again. It took them ten minutes to figure out that they had six sets of harness in the mound, not four.

  “That’s right,” Anne said meekly. “Mr. Pottle insisted we might need to harness all six when we reach the mountains.”

  Elise removed two complete sets—as nearly as she could tell—and put them back in the crate. They laid out one set on the ground. Elise looked from Challenger to the harness and back.

  “I think this is the front,” she said at last.

  “Need some help, ma’am?”

  Elise’s heart sank. Of all the people she did not want to see her in this weak position, Eb Bentley had to come along. On the other hand, just seeing the man’s rugged face at this trying moment sent a wave of relief cascading over her.

  Anne jumped in and saved Elise the embarrassment of admitting their predicament.

  “Oh Mr. Bentley, that’s very kind of you. I’m afraid our hired man has been delayed…somewhere. Miss Finster and I are trying to make sense of all this harness. Perhaps you would be so kind…” She smiled up at the scout.

  Apparently her hopeful face was enough to sway Eb. “Sure, I’ll help you. We need to get this train moving. But you know you need your man along.”

  Elise cleared her throat. “Yes, sir, we understand. We’re hoping he’ll arrive at any moment. I can’t understand why he’s not here this morning.”

  “Perhaps he mistook the day,” Anne said.

  “Perhaps.” Elise was certain Thomas knew what day it was and that the wagon train was supposed to have moved out at daybreak. What if he’d decided to take the small advance payment they’d given him and
desert them?

  Across the field, Rob Whistler yelled, “Put your wagon next in line, Mr. Clark. Then you, Binchley.”

  “Here,” Eb said. “This set of harness looks to be adjusted the longest on the sides. We’ll put it on the big fella there.”

  He set about tossing the bundle of leather over Challenger’s back, and miraculously, the straps fell into place on the mule’s body. Eb quickly fastened a couple of buckles.

  “Ever harnessed a horse?” he asked.

  “No, but I’ll try,” Elise said.

  He pointed to another mule, almost as large as Challenger. “Do him next.”

  Elise picked up another set of harness. She could barely lift it as high as the mule’s back.

  Anne came and stood beside her. “How can I help?”

  “Let’s see…” Elise looked over at the harness on Challenger to see how Eb had positioned it. “I’m not sure where this buckle goes. Can you go around and look on the other side and try to find where Mr. Bentley put it?”

  Anne was gone for a minute, and Elise struggled to find a spot to attach every free end of leather. Anne came back carrying two of the wooden pieces with round brass balls on the ends.

  “He says these are hames and they go on each side of the collar. The tugs hitch to them.”

  Elise hadn’t expected that. She looked under her mule’s neck and over at Challenger. Did she need to remove the collar? By this time Eb was putting on the big mule’s bridle.

  She tiptoed over and peered closely at the collar and hames.

  “Got it?” Eb asked.

  “I think so.” She went back to Challenger and fumbled about until she felt that part was right. Now to fix the straps of the harness to the hames. By the time she had most of it done, Eb had harnessed mule number three and positioned him in front of Challenger.

  “What’s this?” Anne held up a rounded piece of leather. Straps with buckles hung from it, but Elise couldn’t imagine where it should go.