THE Prairie DREAMS Trilogy

by Susan Page Davis

  “Yes. I won’t be sorry to see him leave the company.” Anne threw her a worried glance. “You don’t think he’ll bother us again, will he? Out of spite, I mean?”

  “I hope not. We shall miss him when it’s time to lug water.”

  “Perhaps someone else will help us.”

  Elise shrugged and reached into the wagon for her crate of pans and utensils. “We can survive on our own. We’ve proven that. But I shan’t say no if Wilbur or one of the Adams brothers offers to help us.”

  “I wouldn’t look for Daniel to come around,” Anne said.

  “Oh? Why’s that?”

  “I turned him down last night.”

  Elise paused with the crate in her arms. “Do you mean…for a dance, or…”

  “He asked me to marry him.”

  As the sun sent its first rays over the prairie, the other travelers began to stir. Oxen lowed, and a man called to his son. Elise couldn’t move. She just stared at Anne.

  “When did this happen?”

  “While we waltzed.” Anne chuckled. “Oh Elise, don’t look so stricken. I told him that I had no plans beyond finding Uncle David and returning to England. He asked if there was anything he could do to change my mind. I tried to let him down gently.”

  Elise sighed and set the crate on the ground. “Well, he’s been pining over you for a month. I suppose I should have expected it. We’re usually right ahead of them in line, except when we change to the back, and we see more of him and Hector than we do of a lot of others. And, Anne dear, he is a nice young man.”

  “But I don’t think I wish to spend the rest of my life on a wheat farm. That’s what he hopes to do, you know—raise wheat.”

  “It does sound a bit bland, yet—don’t you think there’s something appealing about it? A secure place with a man who adores you? Of course he wouldn’t be able to afford a cook or a housemaid, I’m sure.”

  “I don’t know if I’d care, if I met the right man,” Anne said.

  “Dan Adams isn’t the one though?”

  “That’s right.” Anne took the tinderbox from the crate.

  The livestock in the wagon circle stirred and shifted. A horse snorted, and Elise looked toward the sound. Eb Bentley was slipping a headstall over his paint gelding’s poll.

  “Odd how the idea of marrying a commoner isn’t nearly as repulsive as it was three months ago.” Anne bunched up a handful of wood shavings and dry grass.

  “It’s because you’re not in England now,” Elise said.

  Anne shook her head. “I even feel a bit guilty nowadays, knowing I would have thought of people like Rebecca Harkness and the Adams boys as beneath my notice.” She hit the flint and steel together and blew on the sparks.

  “I agree with you,” Elise said. “When you get to know some of these folks, you realize they’ve a bit of regality about them.”

  Anne reached for the small store of kindling Thomas had left by the fireplace last night.

  Elise ruminated on their change of perspective as she got out her butcher knife and sliced off a small bit of bacon fat to grease the spider with. Anyone in England who knew Lady Anne would be shocked to learn she would even consider marrying a plain American and living in what they would call obscure poverty. She tried to picture Anne visiting someone like the Blithes or the Cranfords and taking Dan Adams along to a dinner party. It wouldn’t do at all. Anne would be snubbed in rare form. Yet she could picture Anne and Daniel living in quiet contentment if only Anne were bitten by love. If I fell truly in love, class wouldn’t matter one whit.

  Eb led his paint out of the corral between their wagon and Abe Leonard’s and stopped to give the saddle’s cinch strap one last tug. He looked over and nodded at them.

  “Morning, ladies.”

  “Good morning, Mr. Bentley,” Elise said. She couldn’t seem to look away from him. His dusty hat, so worn and comfortable looking, was the perfect complement to his rugged features. It was an honest hat. And she believed he’d shaved this morning. How had he managed that before the sun was fully up? A man of unexpected talents.

  “Lovely day,” Anne sang out.

  “Yes, it is.” He hesitated a moment then led his horse closer to Elise. “I have to admit, you ladies have surprised me. I know you’re going to have it rougher in some ways without Costigan, but I think you can make it.”

  “Why thank you, sir.” Elise marveled at the warmth in her heart. “Coming from you, that is praise indeed.”

  “Well, if you need anything, you tell me or Rob. We’ll see that you’re taken care of.”

  “We’ll do our best not to call on you too often.”

  He nodded, gazing at her with thoughtful brown eyes. “I reckon you will.”

  Elise resolved anew to prove that his faith in her and Anne was not misplaced.

  Eb smiled and swung into the saddle. “Up, Speck.” He touched his hat brim and trotted off to the west.

  “Nothing common about that man,” Anne said.

  The next morning Rob Whistler blew his horn from the center of the wagon circle before it was light enough to see more than the snowy wagon covers. Elise and Anne were already dressed. They hurried out into the central corral to separate their mules from the other livestock. Elise nearly bumped into Nick Foster.

  “I’ve got one of your wheelers here, ma’am.”

  “Thank you, Nick!” Elise took Challenger’s halter from him and tugged the big mule toward her wagon. She tied him up and went back for another mule. Anne passed her, leading Chick, one of their leaders.

  “Get the harness out,” Elise called to her. “I’ll bring Bumper and Blackie.”

  They had come nine hundred miles from Independence, Missouri, but the mules looked to be in good flesh to her untrained eye. The two days of leisure at Independence Rock had left them well rested. The men had taken the stock out of the camp during the day to let them graze along the river, and all of the animals seemed to have benefited from it. Bumper, at least, exhibited high spirits this morning, kicking out at another mule they passed.

  They were ready to move out when the horn sounded again, and Elise took the reins. Anne sat beside her on the seat. They’d used enough provisions to more than offset her weight. Elise directed the four mules to move into line behind Mr. Leonard’s wagon, with the Adams brothers behind them. She felt rather powerful, sitting up on the seat. An hour of staring at the mules’ hindquarters and the water barrel fixed on the back of Mr. Leonard’s wagon lessened that impression. After two hours, Anne climbed down to walk for a while with some of the other women and gather buffalo chips for their evening fire. Toward noon, she returned and clambered up beside Elise again.

  “Would you like me to drive for a while?”

  “That would be nice. My shoulders are tired.”

  Anne stood and braced herself while Elise slid over on the seat.

  “The clouds look ominous,” Anne observed as she took the reins.

  Now that she was on the other side, Elise could see farther westward beyond the wagon ahead. The overcast sky had gone nearly black, and the clouds were low enough to obscure the distant mountains.

  “I’d say we’re in for a storm.”

  Experience as they’d crossed the Nebraska prairie had taught them how violent a thunderstorm could be out here, with no trees to break the wind.

  The wind picked up, tossing whirlwinds of dust high. Some of the drivers took their wagons to one side of the rutted trail so they wouldn’t breathe so much of the roiling dust. Gusts tore at Elise’s skirt and made the canvas wagon cover pop. The tall prairie grasses rippled like sea waves. Thunder rumbled over them, and lightning crackled in the distance.

  Rob cantered his chestnut along the line as the first raindrops spattered down.

  “Circle the wagons,” he shouted. “Hobble your teams if you can and turn them loose in the middle. Circle now so the drovers can drive the loose herd inside. Storm’s a-coming!” Elise’s heart caught then raced. They’d never hobbled t
he mules without Thomas. She doubted they could unhitch and hobble them all in time. Anne thrust the reins into her hands, slapping them against the wheelers’ haunches. “Get up, Bumper! Up, Challenger!”

  Anne clung to the edge of the wagon seat, but Elise had to brace herself with her feet as the mules followed Mr. Leonard’s wagon. They lurched out of the rutted trail into the tall grass, plowing it down as they went.

  As the rain increased to a downpour, the wagon ahead stopped. Others had lumbered into a lopsided oval. Elise hauled back on the reins, and the mules stopped just behind Abe’s water barrel.

  “Quick, Anne! The hobbles.”

  Elise leaped down into the wet grass as Anne dove into the wagon. Every traveler dreaded a stampede, and the storm could be more than enough to set one off.

  Elise’s fingers fumbled as she worked to unhitch the leather traces from the whiffletrees near the wagon tongue. Anne appeared, carrying an armful of short leather straps. Her calico dress was already soaked and clung to her frame. Elise decided to try to hobble the mules first then unhitch them.

  “Work on Blackie first,” she yelled over the wind. Blackie, the near leader, was the most placid of their mules and would probably allow Anne to work on his legs without a fuss. Challenger, on the other hand, pawed at the ground, throwing his head and snorting. “Oh, you’d love to get loose, wouldn’t you?” Elise muttered.

  Each rawhide strap had a loop in one end. This had to be slipped over the mule’s elevated foot and pulled tight. The other end was then buckled around the other front leg. With great difficulty, she got the loop around his right cannon. She wasn’t sure she could hook the other end around his left leg. Still in harness, Challenger was bound to Bumper, and she couldn’t get between them.

  “Let me help.”

  She looked up into Eb Bentley’s brown eyes. His hat was pulled low over his brow, and his clothes were drenched, too. The rain pummeled them mercilessly.

  Elise surrendered the end of the hobble to him.

  “Unhook him from the wagon,” Eb yelled.

  She managed it at last. Eb had the strap in place by the time she released the toggle. Eb unbuckled him from the rest of the team. Still in his collar and harness, Challenger crow-hopped away from his teammates into the center of the circle.

  Out of nowhere, Dan Adams appeared. “Give me some of the hobbles. Get under the wagon.”

  She’d expected him to say “in the wagon,” but as she processed his command and handed over the remaining hobbles, she realized that hailstones the size of peas, and some as large as grapes, now pelted them. She ran to the side of the wagon and threw herself down, rolling the grass flat as she gained the shelter beneath the wagon bed. She stretched out, parallel to the box above her. If the mules still hitched should begin to move, she didn’t want to be run over.

  A moment later, Anne joined her, wild eyed and shivering. “The cattle are panicking. The men are trying to close the gaps between the wagons.”

  Elise crawled to the front of the wagon and peered out. All of their mules were unhitched. She could see the wheels of Abe Leonard’s wagon thirty feet away. Over the wind, the noise of hailstones hitting the ground rivaled the thunder. She could hear the screams of mules and urgent lowing of the oxen. Animals shifted about and bumped the side of the wagon. Outside their shelter, everything moved and roared.

  Anne lay on the ground and covered her head with her arms. Elise moved closer and wrapped an arm around her. Anne’s body convulsed with shivering.

  “So c–cold,” she cried.

  Between the rear wheels, Elise saw someone’s feet. A big wooden box plopped down on the sodden grass and accumulation of ice balls. Still the man kept working. He’s tying ropes between the wagons to keep the animals in, she thought. Dear God, help them!

  A fearsome ripping came from above them. Anne jerked her chin up and stared at Elise.

  “The wagon cover,” Elise said. Everything in the wagon would get soaked.

  Anne threw her arms around Elise’s neck and clung to her. Elise held her and stroked her back and shoulders. It reminded her of the night Anne’s mother had died. The girl had wept for hours, inconsolable.

  At last the roaring lessened. Elise relaxed her hold on Anne and crept to the edge of the wagon. Rain still fell, but softly now. The hail had collected in rows along the ground beside the wagons. Some of the stones were as large as eggs. Many of the canvas tops had split or shredded. Men moved slowly among the herd of livestock, speaking quietly to the animals. Others stood in gaps between wagons with sticks or guns in their hands, ready to drive back a mule or ox that wanted to escape.

  How badly damaged was their own wagon? They had a spare cover. If only she could get at it now and spread it over the bows before all their foodstuffs were ruined.

  Eb Bentley came and hunkered down next to the wagon. “You ladies all right?”

  “Yes. But our wagon top is torn, isn’t it?”

  “Not as bad as some,” Eb said. “And we’ve lost a few animals.”

  “Lost them?”

  “Two are dead from the hailstones. Half a dozen more got past us and ran off.”

  “Are any people hurt?” she asked.

  “Nothing serious. I think all your mules are safe, but I’m not sure. We’ll stay here until tomorrow. The stock needs to calm down and warm up again. Some of them were so shocked by the storm and the cold that they could die just from that.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded. “I’ve seen it before. We’ll build fires as soon as we can, just to take the chill off. If I hitch your mules to the side of your wagon, can you rub them all over with a sack or something?”

  “Yes, I can do that.”

  “That’ll help warm them up. Tell me where your coat is in the wagon, and I’ll try to get it out for you.”

  Anne poked her head out beside Elise. Her face was streaked with tears. “I can help, too, Mr. Bentley.”

  He eyed her for a moment then nodded. “We can use you.”

  Elise thought her arms would drop off before she stopped rubbing the mules. Eb and Daniel found all six of their team—the four they’d released and their two spares in the loose herd. They rotated the ones they rested, and this morning Prince and Zee had been left in the drovers’ care. Those two seemed less traumatized than the others. Chick and Blackie were the worst. They stood trembling while Elise and Anne brushed them and rubbed them with the sacks.

  At last the sun peeked through holes in the clouds. When the mules’ hair was dry, Elise threw down her gunnysack. Eb had used the dry chips they’d collected yesterday and started a fire. She filled the coffeepot from the small rain barrel on the side of the wagon.

  “There’s still a little ice inside the wagon,” Anne said. “If you think the mules are all right now, I’ll toss the ice in a bucket and see what needs to be aired.”

  “Good. I expect some of those men could use a cup of coffee.”

  Elise found on a quick inspection that their food containers were unharmed. Some of their bedding was sodden with rainwater and melted hailstones, and the extra harnesses should probably be taken out and oiled. Most other things would survive the wetting.

  A half hour later, when Dan Adams came over and asked if they had an extra wagon cover to replace their torn one, she held up the steaming coffeepot.

  “We do, sir, and we have hot coffee. Are you interested?”

  “Oh Miss Finster.” Dan grinned at her, his teeth gleaming in his mud-streaked face. “If you give me a cup of hot brew, I reckon I’ll feel fit enough to put your new wagon cover on all by myself.”

  “That’s impressive, sir, but you needn’t. Miss Stone and I will be happy to help. But drink your coffee first.”

  Other men appeared as if by magic—Dan’s brother Hector, Abe Leonard, and even young Nick Foster. Elise kept an eye on Anne as she moved among them, smiling equally on them all. No trace of tears remained on her flushed cheeks. Dan watched the lovely dark-haired girl with
a mournful gaze but managed a smile when Anne offered him a cold biscuit.

  Eb arrived at last, trudging slowly with his chin low on his chest. Elise went to the fire and lifted the coffeepot.

  “I’ve about one cup of coffee left in this pot, Mr. Bentley,” she called to him. “I can’t guarantee you won’t get some grounds.”

  “I don’t care if I have to chew it to swallow it,” he said.

  She smiled and poured the dregs into the tin cup Nick had emptied.

  Anne took the pot from her. “I’ll start a new batch.”

  Eb took a long sip and sighed. “Thank you kindly, ma’am. That hits the spot.” He eyed her over the rim as he took another drink. “I’ve got some news for you,” he said a moment later.

  Elise’s stomach clenched. “What sort of news?”

  “Costigan’s gone.”

  “Gone?” She stared at him. “How do you mean?”

  “He lit out this morning, shortly after we broke camp. One of the drovers told me. He took Rob’s extra saddle horse.”

  Elise had to concentrate to keep her jaw from dropping. “He stole Mr. Whistler’s horse?”

  “That’s the word. Ralph Libby saw him leading the mare out. He said Costigan claimed Rob told him he could use the mare today to do some hunting. But he had his bedroll with him.”

  “And Mr. Whistler knew nothing of it.”

  Eb shook his head.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Not your fault.”

  “Perhaps not, but Anne will feel responsible. If she hadn’t told you about the letter—”

  “We’re better off without him,” Eb said.

  “Anne will want to reimburse Mr. Whistler for the horse.”

  Eb shook his head. “Don’t even suggest it. Rob wouldn’t hear of it, and there’s no need to cause Miss Stone more distress. I’m just surprised he didn’t take my other mount. Anyway, we’ll report him as a horse thief to the authorities the next time we have a chance. If some troopers pass us, Rob will send a letter back to Fort Laramie to alert them.”