Bright Morning Star

by J. R. Biery

  “I like the change in you. But don’t let the old Claire disappear, I loved my cheerful little goose, too.” Bonnie said as she ladled a cup of broth off the boiling mutton. “I’m going to see if the smell of this might wake that lazy soldier. I’m getting tired of hearing his stomach growl.”

  “Aren’t you going to stay and eat? You know how rare it is to have fresh meat.” Claire lifted a piece of the meat she was trying to fry. They, like three other wagons, had bought sheep from the strange Indian boy who had walked up near their camp. Father had shot their small sheep and butchered it quickly. Tonight they would eat the meat they could slice off that she was cooking in the skillet. Tomorrow, they would eat the boiled mutton from the leg bones. In this weather, she had no choice but to cook it all at once. Luckily, most was buried in a pit they had dug under the fire. It was like the one Bonnie had watched the cavalry soldiers use to cook an ox.

  Bonnie’s stomach growled in answer.

  “Go on,” Claire said, “I’ll bring you a plate as soon as I get a chance.”

  As the tall woman left her, her Mother came forward to keep her company at the fire. In minutes, Mother had spoon bread mixed and baking in the firebox oven. Claire left her to tend the awful meat and the usual pot of beans as she went to get water and grind beans to make coffee. She had the pot filled and ready, looking at the somber men at the fire. At least the boys seemed happy. The Magee lads were showing Tom and Jim some trick to use with a forked stick and part of the sheep’s intestine.

  Claire shuddered at the thought of handling the disgusting innards. The sheep’s wool had been so packed with dirt and burrs, she still couldn’t believe Father bought it. Instead of looking like the wooly pillow with little black legs that had been in her nursery rhyme book, this animal had looked thin and nasty. She raised the lid and turned the braising meat before setting the coffee pot on top of the flat lid. Claire turned her head and held her breath until the air moved the stench away. She had never liked mutton.

  She was aware that the angry pair of men, Father and Henry, were both watching her. She knew Henry had ridden off to talk with Father. The question of what they had talked about was clear from their faces every time they looked at each other, then at her.

  Claire couldn’t think about that now. She tried to focus on the sheep again. Tonight’s meal would be a treat compared to what she was supposed to cook for breakfast. Father had saved the organ meat for the morning and it, the brain, and the spongy lungs were soaking in a deep bowl of salted water. The dogs, Tip and Tyler, had shared the thrill of gnawing on the unshorn head with its bulging yellow eyes after Father had split it in half to remove the brain. At least someone enjoyed mutton. Before he had dripped the blood of the butchered animal onto a rock and had laughed as the excited dogs eagerly lapped up the blood. Claire shuddered again.

  Claire looked at Henry Lambton where he sat all alone. Other than the angry looks Father kept giving him, no one seemed to be interested in talking to him. She felt the same strange flutter she had felt when she first saw him inside the shop in Boston. Then Bella had appeared.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Henry stared at the pretty girl cooking supper beside her Mother. It had been difficult, facing her father. But he had been trapped into one marriage on the demands of an outraged father. If and when he married again, it would be to a woman he could not live without, one that he had asked to be his wife.

  When Claire finally called “all come and get it,” he had lost his appetite. Somehow he needed to make up his mind. The last thing he wanted was to ruin another woman’s life.

  <><><>

  Bonnie set aside the smelly cup of broth. He still seemed asleep. She looked down at Calum and ran her fingers across his warm brow. The Sargent had told her he had lost a lot of blood, but she couldn’t remember it, just the sticky place where she had touched his chest in the dark.

  The thought of losing him crowded her mind, but she pushed it aside. Determinedly she dampened the cloth and squeezed the extra water away before wiping his face. This time she unbuttoned his uniform shirt, but he moaned when she started to free his arm from one sleeve. Carefully, she settled for lifting the uniform open enough to stare at his bandaged wound. There was a large pad on his shoulder and a winding cloth wrapped around his shoulder and back to hold it in place. The cloth had rusty looking stains where the blood had seeped through before. Since the doctor was with the other wagon train, she would need to change it soon.

  Bonnie held the damp cloth, then reminded herself that she had volunteered to nurse him. She held the cloth over him, then turned to rinse and wring it out again. Ready, she stared at the swirls of dark hair on his chest over the heavy wall of muscles. She reminded herself that she was his nurse and this was her duty. Trembling, she traced the strong column of his throat, watched his Adam’s apple bob. Gently, she leaned down to carefully wipe away the dried blood, careful to not disturb the bandage or the binding holding it in place.

  When he was clean, she bent to rinse the cloth again. This time she was poised to trail the cloth down over his ribs and flat stomach, when her gaze was captured by the dark line of hair disappearing beneath his waist band. It was suddenly so hot beneath the canvas that she could barely breathe. When she heard Claire’s loud voice, she jumped.

  Calum moaned in pain and Bonnie folded her hands to pray, feeling guilty for all her impure thoughts. When she looked down again, she saw his hand was over the same area where she had been looking. He groaned and Bonnie dropped the rag into the basin and fled to find help.

  <><><>

  Henry stood over the wounded man, uncertain how to proceed. Bonnie had rushed to the camp side, not looking at the line getting their dinner, but clutching Henry’s arm to whisper into his ear.

  He had been happy for an excuse to leave where he wasn’t wanted. Although Father Wimberley was the only one who seemed angry now, he had no doubt when the others learned what had been said, he would be getting dirty looks from the rest. For now, he only felt sad about how it would make Claire feel. She was so sweet and innocent – she didn’t deserve to go through all this gossip and hurt.

  “Hey, are you going to hold the bedpan or not?”

  Henry jumped.

  Minutes later, emergency over, he passed the wounded man the cup of broth. “Do you think you can hold this to drink, or do you need me to feed it to you?”

  “I don’t know. You did empty the bedpan outside didn’t you? This smells about the same.”

  “Claire’s boiling mutton. I think it has some wild onions and carrot weed in it too,” Henry answered, agreeing with Calum’s opinion of the smell. He still held the mug of broth over the soldier.

  Calum tried to reach for it, but collapsed against the mattress instead. Sighing, he rolled his eyes. “My head and shoulder are throbbing. Where’s Bonnie?”

  Henry set the mug down, reached out to feel the feverish brow. “Told her to go ahead and eat, I’d take care of everything. You’re hot all right. I better ride to get the doctor.”

  “That quack. He got the bullet, and my brass button, but he didn’t clean the wound. Have you got any whiskey?”

  “It’s for medicinal purposes only. Right.” Minutes later he poured a shot and held it to the sleeping soldier’s mouth. “Swallow.” Henry said.

  Calum brushed at it and it sloshed onto his chest. Bonnie walked slowly toward the tailgate and called, “safe to return?” Henry answered and she peered over at the two men inside.

  Henry explained to her and she was quickly inside, squeezing beneath Calum’s head on the bed to raise him up despite his protest. With her holding his head, Henry was able to get him to drink. Calum moaned, but swallowed. “Clean the wound with it. A new bandage. Kill infection.” Then he was out again.

  This time with Henry’s help, Bonnie was able to remove the shirt completely. Henry brought Bella’s sewing basket up onto the bed.

  “What have you got to use for bandages?” she asked.


  For just a minute, Henry looked sad. “There are Barney’s little shirts, or Bella’s cotton slips.”

  Bonnie touched his hand, then said. “A slip would be fine.”

  When she removed the bandage, there was a smell, only a little less terrible than the soup’s. Remembering watching her mother clean a wound on her Da’s leg, Bonnie stared at Henry. “We need a flame and a sharp knife. Bring Father Wimberley to help.”

  Henry nodded before disappearing. Once again, Bonnie spread her fingers from the shoulder where he was wounded to the center of his chest. God had spared him with that shot. Now, all they had to do was get him to survive his doctor.

  <><><>

  When he approached the fire, the last thing Henry wanted was to ask Robert Wimberley for a favor. But he had been in this position before and would be again. Sometimes a man had to ignore his own pride to do what was right for others. They were still three weeks from Junction City, Utah and he would have to work with this man every day. He needed to make a new beginning.

  Walking on the edge of the fire, avoiding the target practice the boys were having with the new slingshot Ian had made, he watched each lad take a turn trying to flip over their empty coffee cups. When the last lad fired and one of the tin cups actually fell, Henry bent to set it back into place before walking up to Claire’s Father.

  “Sir, I need a sharp knife and your help for a minute,” he whispered.

  Father stared at him with contempt, then nodded. Without a word to anyone the two men slipped into the darkness. Claire took the last clean metal plate from Mary Anne. Relieved to see Henry and her Father leave together, Claire smiled and relaxed again. Whatever they had said to each other before, was now over. She knew Father was unhappy about all the gossip, but at least Henry had come to talk to him again. It had to be a good sign.

  <><><>

  Bonnie stood over Calum holding the hot knife, the compass in its handle spinning to taunt her as she leaned closer. This would hurt, but it would be less if she did it quickly and carefully. Using the knife edge, she ran it over the red part of his shoulder, slicing the hair away. She put the blade back in the flame, then a minute later, she motioned to the men on either side of the big man, holding him down. Calmly she ran the sharp edge over his left breast again, this time pulling as she went. The crusted scab pulled away and Calum moved in a reflect action. The trio repeated the process, this time provoking a yell.

  Before he could become even more agitated, Bonnie leaned forward to pour the good bonded whiskey into the bleeding wound. She waited until the men had recovered control of the thrashing soldier, and she poured it again.

  Finally, she soaked the thick square of clean cotton in whiskey, before pressing it onto the wound. Calum screamed and Bonnie leaned to push him back down as she pressed against the festering wound. Tears standing in the corners of her eyes, she poured more alcohol onto the back of another new bandage and replaced the soiled one. When Calum relaxed back into the black unconscious state, she sighed. Together the three quickly secured the bandage into place.

  <><><>

  “I should have noticed, I was sitting beside him all day,” Bonnie cried. Claire stood, leaning against the seated girl to turn her head onto her shoulder. Father had stayed with Calum this time as Henry had walked the crying woman back to the deserted fire. Like Bonnie had done for her in the past, Claire patted the taller girl’s back and made shushing sounds. “It will be all right. You did what had to be done. You are so brave, Bonnie.”

  Bonnie leaned her head back to cry again. “You don’t understand. Mum had to do it to Da’s leg, again and again, before it finally started to heal. I can’t do it, I can’t hurt him again.”

  Claire laughed and hugged her even tighter. “Now who is being a silly goose? You don’t trust anyone else to do it, so if it needs doing again, you will do it. Besides, maybe this is the only time it will take. Calum is so big and strong. I wouldn’t be surprised to see him on his feet tomorrow.”

  Bonnie snuffled and Henry passed her his handkerchief, grateful that it had nothing more than a little sweat from the back of his neck. Folded and dry, it would do for her purpose. Claire took the printed cloth and held it out to her friend, “Now blow, and get to bed. Henry and Father will take turns sitting up with him tonight, but you need your rest to do it all day tomorrow.”

  Bonnie rose, gave them each a weak smile. “I’m good, you’re right.” But Claire held onto her as she walked her toward the tent. The girls took a discrete turn behind the Wimberley wagon and Henry stood with his back to the wagon. The fire was banked over the hot coals. Beneath, he could smell the roasting lamb. Carefully, he lifted the lid on the pot of boiled mutton. Cautiously he cut a small piece of the meat which had grown more appetizing as it boiled for three hours. He ate one small bite, then opened the lid again and took a larger one.

  When Claire returned from seeing her friend settled in the tent with the twins, she came back to watch Henry taking another bite from the kettle of mutton. He looked like a little boy, the way he was standing, sneaking food. She had put a plate aside for him, but this had to be better than the hard, chewy meat they had eaten with more beans. Someday she would be a rich married lady. Then she would never cook another meal, especially not dried soup beans.

  She cleared her throat and Henry stood, backing away from the kettle. The look in her eyes, so tender, and what, what did he see in her face? What did it matter? He had promised Robert Wimberley that he would not talk to her or do anything else to confuse her about his intentions. There were over ninety people on this train, all of them watching him and Claire, waiting for just one more slip. Now, instead of apologizing or explaining about helping himself to the meat, he merely bowed and backed to his own wagon without a single word.

  He didn’t have the courage to look back and see if she now looked hurt or sad instead. He wanted to talk to her, to explain what he had told her father before the man or worse, one of the others in their group, took the time to explain it and the look became one of hate.

  Sighing, Henry climbed into his wagon from the front. He looked back at Robert Wimberley, who sat grimly keeping watch over the wounded soldier. Henry looked at the impossible arrangement and spent a minute making up another bed. When he lay down on the thin, narrow cot that had been Barneys, thoughts of the poor boy brought even more guilt. Henry felt the weight of all his crimes, but finally slipped into sleep while the older man sat watching, glaring back at him.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Claire sat on the padded bench, her hands on the reins and the big handled driving whip beside her. She had never used it, with one of the twins always walking beside to prod the team into motion, there was no need to whip the lumbering beasts. As soon as the lead oxen in that day’s wagon train started walking, the others moved along at the same grinding pace. If an ox wanted to turn off the road to graze or balked and slowed down, then the boys would switch it or more often, just pelt the reluctant oxen back into motion with small pebbles.

  It really was nice for Bonnie to have her brothers here. Regardless of what she said, being kidnapped and forced to wait on a very sick woman hadn’t been easy. Claire knew she would have been in hysterics all the time. The few Indians she had seen were frightening. Although the old Indian chief who had taken Bonnie had looked at her with such wisdom and then smiled at her as though he had read her mind and heart. Maybe the ordeal was the exciting adventure Bonnie had said.

  Claire wished she could just get down and run along beside the oxen again. A month ago, she would have laughed at the ridiculous idea. But now that she had tried being someone else, she found she liked being busier even more than sitting and reading her fashion magazines. She knew she could never go back to being so idle again.

  Behind her, she heard Bonnie’s happy voice. Yesterday, when Henry had helped the man to sit up and actually get up to walk into the bushes with a little help, Claire and Bonnie had moved onto the wagon bed and rearranged the mattresses on top
of the storage boxes. Now Calum’s big mattress was near the front so Bonnie could take a break to visit with Claire whenever he slept. The small cot-size mattress was near the tailgate, so when the man on night duty needed to rest, he could but he was also handy to check outside and leave when he needed.

  Curious, Claire looked through the canvas to where Bonnie was attentively bent over the sleeping soldier. When she sat back, she was smiling. Claire knew that meant he was better. This morning Bonnie had told her how relieved she was that his fever was almost gone, but more importantly, the shoulder wasn’t red and sore. Claire was as relieved as her friend seemed to be. She had seldom seen her friend cry, the girl always seemed invincible to her.

  Less than a year ago, the abusive Tarn Michaels had made her cry. Then the loss of the unborn child had nearly broken her. But Bonnie had risen out of the ashes to be stronger than ever.

  As she watched, Bonnie removed the man’s hand from her breast. Shocked, Claire turned to look the other way, but she sat up straight so it was easier to listen.

  “You sir, are incorrigible.”

  “Please, kiss me, I’m dying.”

  Claire had no trouble hearing what Bonnie said, but Calum’s voice was low and rumbling. Claire knew it was wrong to listen, but she couldn’t move away. This was probably as close as she would ever get to hearing sweet love words. Henry hadn’t even spoken to her the last two days. Whenever she drew near, he moved away. She prayed that it was just his way of guarding her reputation. But oh what it must be like to have a man look at you the way Calum looked at Bonnie. Her friend was just as bad, mooning over the tall soldier as though he was the most wonderful. Claire stopped musing and almost dropped the reins as she heard.