Dreams and Nightmares

by Shirley A. Roe

  Supper of venison, fresh baked bread and garden vegetables took place without incident but Isaac's glare never left her. Perhaps he had not seen her with the ledger, perhaps he had already told Jebediah or perhaps for reasons of his own he had decided not to tell his father yet. She was unsure how the final scenario would play out. The food caught in her throat as she nervously tried to finish her meal. She rose to move her half eaten plate from the table, but Jebediah ordered her to sit down. “Finish that food before you leave the table. The Lord provides and we will gratefully consume all we are given. Now sit down and eat.” He barked at her as if she was a child. Eyes down, she returned to her chair and picked at her food.

  The evening progressed and it soon became obvious that Jebediah did not know, but what could she do with this information? No one would believe her. The homesteaders worshipped Jebediah and there was nothing she could do that would convince them he was trying to take their land. If Isaac had seen her, when would he tell? Well one thing was for sure, Martha knew what her husband was up to and she would find a way to use it to her best advantage. She sat mending the boy's shirts, her mind filled with possibilities. Finally a small glimmer of hope, a tiny flame of empowerment was growing in her soul. She also knew she could trust no one but herself, remembering the deception of both her father and the seaman Richard. The cruel beating on the ship that resulted had taught her a very grave lesson. Never trust anyone. Perhaps God had given her a long awaited sign today in the church.

  Jebediah sat in his office enjoying the solitude, being Pastor was certainly more than he could have asked for. The simple sheep had fallen into his trap and then made him the leader of the flock. Amazing how really trusting and gullible they were. Now he didn't even have to use his own money for the loans, but would simply use the Church funds, of which he had full control. He would put all of the liens in his name and that way when it came time to foreclose the properties would be his. The west was definitely the land of gold and Jebediah Whittaker had struck pay dirt with these homesteaders.

  Isaac appeared at the door. “Isaac my boy, come and sit by me.” Jebediah was very proud of Isaac. Physically similar to himself, the boy was tall and thin with dark hair and sharp features. Characteristics inherited from Jebediah's maternal grandfather, which he and Isaac shared. The boy kept a close eye on Martha and the young ones and could be counted on to tell him everything that went on in the house. Jebediah had great plans for Isaac, shaping him in his own mold. Isaac was becoming an able marksman and this western life seemed to suit him. Mama would love Isaac, like she loved him. Too bad she wasn't here to see him for herself but that was father's fault. Jebediah scowled and returned his thoughts to his eldest son. “Are you looking forward to your first buffalo kill, Isaac?” He and Isaac chatted about the upcoming buffalo hunt and the shops that were springing up in the new town. As the sun set father and son, locked the church and left for home. The church had been built close to the Whittaker's home, so the walk took no time at all.

  The storm started just after midnight. Ear splitting thunder shook the walls of the log cabin and lightning turned night into day. Martha rose from her bed and went to check on the boys; a deafening crack of thunder startled her as she covered Ezekiel. From the window a bright orange glow appeared. Martha rushed to the door, looking in the direction of the golden brilliance. Over the treetops, flames leaped from the corner of the church roof. Abraham's dream instantly came to her mind.

  “Jebediah, the church is on fire! Hurry,” she screamed. Jebediah leapt from his bed and still clad only in his long underwear, ran from the house followed by Isaac. Abraham and Ezekiel crawled from their beds and stood with Martha staring wide-eyed at the burning church. Abraham and Martha exchanged a frightened knowing look, pulled on some clothes and then ran for the water buckets. Ezekiel followed with a shovel and blanket to smother the small fire bursts on the ground. People appeared from everywhere at the first sign of fire. The community sprang into action. Rakes and shovels pounded the burning earth and buckets of water were toted from the river. The wood shed beside the church had been hit by lightning, quickly turning into a blazing inferno. Flames leaped onto the Church roof. The searing heat from the blaze was unbearable. Black smoke filled their noses and stung their eyes but they did not quit. Luckily, torrents of rain fell that night helping to extinguish the flames and soaking the tired and dirty fire brigade. Thanks to the rain, the fire was extinguished before much damage to the actual church was done. A new roof would be built and the community would return to normal but Martha and Abraham would never be the same. After that night as they stood with the flames of hell reflecting on their sweaty faces, they both believed that God was angry.

  Chapter Eleven - The Search Continues

  Finally the weather had improved enough for the stagecoach to leave St. Louis. Jeremy and Austin found the trip to be back breaking. The ride was bumpy and erratic. The coach was either filled with dust or bogged down in the mud and once they left St. Louis all signs of civilization disappeared. The only stops were tiny shack like buildings where passengers could get a cool drink and the horses were changed. Whenever a small town with a hotel appeared they were thankful. Hotels were primitive to say the least and bar room brawls, dirt and tiny rooms coated in dust were the most they could hope for. Both of them were beginning to wonder just what on earth they were doing here. Austin found that he missed Loretta's funny giggle. Often he would be reminded of her by the scent of her Lily of the Valley perfume, which hung on his clothing. She was a charming creature, full of life. Hopefully he would see her again someday, but now he had to go and find Martha.

  Jeremy, although an adventure lover at heart, thought that the western territories were most primitive and even he wished he were back in London or at least St. Louis.

  “Fort Laramie will be weeks away. I hope we'll make it in one piece,” stated Jeremy. What they would do then, neither of them knew.

  “All I know is we must find Martha and Jebediah. Hopefully we'll have a plan before we do.” Austin wrote in his journal of a particularly interesting site they witnessed from the stage:

  As we traveled in the stage today, a long band of red light was observed against the distant horizon. It appeared to be moving towards us. Awed by the spectacle of it we were not aware of its sinister significance. Jeremy commented that the dull red glow in the distance was brightening and widening. Stage driver and shotgun stopped the stage and the four of us stood mesmerized. The burning prairie grass crackled, and the wind sweeping the fire made a roaring noise, still faint in the distance but unmistakably menacing. My first impressions of the grandiose beauty of the towering wall of fire were mingled with a sense of terror at the fire's uncontrolled destruction. We watched the fire for hours, unable to travel ahead until the wind carried it from our path. The air was thick with the smell of smoke. Afterwards, the prairie's deep carpet of luscious green grass was only a black and barren wasteland, as far as the eye could see. I had heard the pioneers in St. Louis talk of prairie fires but nothing could have prepared me for this.

  As the stagecoach traveled mile after dusty mile, Austin and Jeremy tried to decide exactly what they were walking into. Jebediah was not the kind of person who would take kindly to an intrusion and he definitely would not release Martha to Austin without a fight. What were Martha's feelings for Jebediah? They had to consider that although she obviously would have fought the idea of the marriage, she might have been taken in by Jebediah. She may actually be fond of him. Austin thought this idea to be utterly absurd, but the two were taking nothing for granted. Plans were discussed and plots were laid out but nothing would be settled until they arrived and found out what they were dealing with.

  Stops were made, horses changed and the journey continued mile after tedious mile. Meals were eaten at the stage stops and many nights were spent on cots in tiny shacks. Primitive outdoor toilet facilities were the norm and baths were nonexistent.

  “Well we are beginning to smell lik
e we belong in the west.” Austin turned up his nose at the strong body odors emanating from them both.

  “I never want to see bear meat again and a good glass of brandy would certainly be welcome, although right now even a glass of gut-rot whisky would suffice.” Jeremy replied. He took his watch from his pocket, checking the time more from habit than any real need.

  “Why don't you get that watch face fixed man?” Austin laughed as Jeremy stuffed the broken watch back in his pocket.

  “Because I don't want to forget the day you saved my life,” Jeremy patted Austin on the back. “No seriously, this broken face keeps me on guard. This is not England and there are dangers around every corner.” Austin just laughed at Jeremy. He knew the watch had been Jeremy's fathers, but why he insisted on looking at it through a cracked face, he could not imagine.

  The day was uneventful until the afternoon. Austin and Jeremy watched the landscape for interesting sites as the miles continued on. All of a sudden, gunshots were heard and the horses increased speed. The stage bumped and thrashed feeling as if it would break in two. The sound of the speeding horses’ hooves was like thunder pounding the earth. More shots filled the air around the coach and dust choked the two young passengers.

  “Stage robbers, start shooting.” The coach driver shouted as he tried to control the runaway horses. Jeremy and Austin gave each other an alarmed, confused look and started shooting out the windows of the coach. Two riders with scarves over their faces were following the stage, firing on the driver and his guard. Austin shot towards one of the men and thought he hit him but the two kept coming. Jeremy, who was not as good with a gun as young Wells, did his best to aim at the robbers but to no avail. His shots flew haphazardly into the air. Finally his gun was empty and he had to reload. The stage driver, Austin and the fellow, riding shotgun, fired on the two robbers as the stage careened across the plains. Shot after shot pierced the dusty air. One of the robbers finally fell. The second robber's horse was abruptly pulled to a halt, the rider veering to the right and back towards the fallen rider. The relieved passengers holstered their guns and held on for dear life as the runaway stage continued to bounce and jolt them from their seats. The harness leather strained as the four powerful horses ran out of control. The driver yelled, “Halt, Ho,” over and over but to no avail. Equine muscles strained, their breath coming in gasps as their hooves continued to pound the earth. After several tense minutes the tiring horses were pulled back under the control of the driver. Finally the sweat covered and exhausted horses were hauled to a stop, the driver jumped down and opened the doors to the stagecoach. The two rumpled male passengers stared shocked and dismayed at the driver.

  “What the hell is going on?” Jeremy shouted. “Is this normal for the stagecoach to be chased by robbers and paying passengers required to shoot for their lives?” The usually calm and cool Jeremy had finally reached the breaking point. He leapt from the stage as if he expected the horses to bolt any minute.

  “Yep, sure is.” The driver replied sarcastically. “You fellers OK?” The grizzly stage driver and the fellow, riding shotgun seemed to be taking this all in his stride but Austin and Jeremy had enough for one day. The harness and horses were thoroughly checked while the shotgun rider stood on guard. He scanned the horizon for any movement.

  “How far is the next town? We need a night in a hotel and a good stiff drink.” The shaken, Jeremy waited while the driver scratched his head and thought a bit. He was enjoying the agony on their faces and tried to prolong the moment. Laughing, he finally said they would reach a town by nightfall, then he informed them triumphantly that Fort Laramie was only a day or two away. Relieved and anxious to get going, Jeremy and Austin returned to the dust filled stage. The stage driver expelled a spit of tobacco, chuckled to himself and climbed aboard the stage.

  The town was small but Jeremy was able to find a washerwoman to take care of their neglected laundry and for an extra half dollar they both had a long hot bath in the back of the woman's cabin. Clean and feeling more civilized they returned to the hotel. The facilities were acceptable and Jeremy and Austin were relaxing in the lobby. The shoot out with the stage robbers was almost laughable now that it was over and the whisky warmed their spirits.

  “Tell me a little about your nephews, Jeremy. They will be affected by whatever we do and I would like to know a little about them. I guess Martha is their step mother now and if Jebediah goes to jail, she will be responsible for the boys.” Austin swirled the cheap whiskey in the glass and tried to picture the impulsive, pampered Martha as anyone's mother.

  “I think you are getting ahead of yourself, Austin. Jebediah is going to be our biggest problem and he certainly can't be charged with any crime here. He would have to go back to England to be convicted and that is highly unlikely. Getting Martha away from him will be a challenge in itself but that has to be our first priority. After all that is what John McGuire hired us to do, Jebediah is secondary.” Jeremy reached for the decanter and poured himself another whisky. In his mind, revenge on Jebediah was first and foremost but he would have to handle that himself.

  “The boys, how old are they?” inquired Austin attempting to bring the conversation back to his original question.

  “Isaac is eleven, Abraham eight and little Ezekiel would be about six. I haven't seen them for years, not since my father died and I left for India. I remember trying to spend time with them after their mother died, at least the middle boy. The youngest was only a babe and Isaac had some serious problems.”

  “What kind of problems, he must have been a small child. Was he ill?”

  “After his mother fell to her death, Isaac didn't speak for months. He sat silent and pensive, staring out the window. Doctors said he was in shock and although he had been asleep when his mother fell, he did see her lying at the bottom of the stairs before they took her body away.” Jeremy stopped to sip his whiskey. “He had been such a happy bubbly child but after Alicia died his entire personality changed. He eventually started to talk again but he was spiteful and angry. Jebediah was no help at all and my father and I tried to amuse and care for the boys. The younger ones were too young to realize what had happened. Then father died, I left and I don't know what ever happened to Isaac. Hopefully he recovered.”

  Austin remembered the terrible grief when he was very young after the loss of his father and it saddened him to know that these young boys had lost their mother. He could not imagine what role Martha might now play in their lives. Although Jebediah had been the cause of their troubles, the boys were innocent victims. If it came to it, could he kill the father of these motherless boys?

  “Our first course of action when we arrive in Fort Laramie will be to locate Jebediah and since I'm his brother, we should receive some co-operation. Once we locate them, we'll have to devise a plan to inform Martha of your presence without raising alarm. We'll look the situation over and ensure that her safety is not being threatened first. Then we'll decide on a plan of action. I must warn you that Jebediah is very dangerous so don't get any ideas about taking him on yourself. Leave him to me. Martha will be your responsibility but we must be very careful.” Jeremy lowered his voice as several people passed the settee where they were enjoying their whisky. “Remember, we trust no one.”

  “Tomorrow, you and I'll practice our marksmanship while the stage is serviced. I don't think you would be much good if we ran into a band of savage Indians and after today, I'm beginning to believe anything is possible.” Austin punched his friend's arm jokingly. “Now, pass the decanter and let's enjoy this soft settee and soothing chamber music.” Austin facetiously referred to the sound of an out of tune piano and the warbling off key voice of the saloon singer pounding in their ears. The two travelers sat back and laughed while the noise engulfed them and the whisky helped soothe their travel weary nerves.

  Fort Laramie was bustling with activity when the stagecoach arrived. Military personnel, homesteaders, fur traders and Indians crowded the large fort. Austin a
nd Jeremy stood surveying their new destination. Fort Laramie's main purpose was to maintain peace between the Indians and the settlers and at the moment, seemed successful.

  Colonel Watson was happy to meet with them and gave them directions to the new town where Jebediah and Martha lived. Jeremy introduced himself but Austin's identity remained secret. The last thing they wanted was for Austin's name to reach Martha's ears before they were ready. “You just missed Pastor Whittaker. He was here yesterday for supplies. He's not expected to return for several weeks so you had best go and find him. The town is about a half day's ride.” The Colonel turned and walked away leaving the two confused men staring after him. Jeremy found it strange that Col. Watson referred to Jebediah as Pastor Whittaker. Religion and his brother were strange bedfellows indeed. Austin's curiosity was definitely aroused now. Was there no end to Jebediah's trickery? A haggard man appeared from the shadows and approached the pair.

  “Did I hear you say you were looking for Pastor Whittaker?” the man's clothes were tattered and his face bore a long scar on one cheek. “Why you looking for him? Did he steal your land too, rotten bastard?” The man was obviously agitated but his words peeked the curiosity of the two young men. Austin saw a window of opportunity present itself.

  “My good man, you look like you could use a stiff drink. Please come with us to the mess tent and let us buy you an ale.” Austin reluctantly put his hand on the dirty man's shoulder and urged him towards the tent on the far side of the fort, away from prying eyes and ears. The three men walked in silence. Ale was ordered and Jeremy led the others to a table at the back of the room. “I didn't catch you name sir.”

  “Name's Swartz -Arnold Swartz. I don't think you answered my question either. Did that bastard steal something from you too?” Swartz tipped his glass back and savored the cool liquid. Jeremy knew they had to handle this situation carefully.