by Carol Henry
“I’m Emily Carmichael. I have children and a young baby back home in New York. You look to be worn out. Why don’t you let me hold your baby while you get a bit of rest?”
“I’m Elizabeth Young. Thanks for your offer, Mrs. Carmichael, but I’m fine.”
“My dear, you won’t do your child any good if you pass out. Let me help.”
The young mother’s face changed from concern to resignation.
“If you’re sure you don’t mind, I am feeling a bit fatigued.”
Emily took the baby from Elizabeth. The darling baby girl reminded her of little Sarah. She had the same hair coloring. Tufts of dark black stuck up and curled at the very ends. Large dark brown eyes, just like Sarah’s, gazed up at Emily. Her smooth, pink complexion was identical to her own sweet baby’s. Emily’s heart ached. She nuzzled the baby, placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, and rocked her in her arms. The baby quieted. Emily spread the hand-crocheted blanket on the ground and gently laid the baby down in her own shadow. Still too hot, the child whimpered, her arms and legs kicking in protest. Emily removed unnecessary pieces of clothing from the baby with infinite care. She soaked her handkerchief in the cool water the men furnished from the river. She sponged the baby down to cool her off. The baby finally relaxed and lay limp, exhausted from the heat. Only then did Emily proceed to cool her own brow.
Tears trickled from the corner of Emily’s eyes. She blinked them back, but they rolled down her dust covered cheeks. She rinsed the hanky out and wiped her own face and neck again to remove some of the dust. She sighed and sat back, making sure the baby lay within the cover of her shadow. She hadn’t wanted to leave her children. Mrs. Aderley might be having a hard time of it with her two boys on this trip, but she was fortunate to have them near. Her boys would have enjoyed the adventure. Just like Jason and Jonathan. And, Mrs. Young. Oh, to have Sarah in her arms again. She missed them so much.
A rumble shook the ground. Small pebbles in the desert sand jumped up and down. A hush fell over the stranded group as the sound of thundering hooves drew in from every direction. Alert, everyone stood, circling together to peer in between the stranded cars to see what the ruckus was all about.
In the far distance, a cloud of dust met the clear blue skies. For what seemed like miles, a screen of brown obliterated the cause of the sand storm. Emily grabbed the baby from the blanket and held her close to her bosom. Mrs. Young, frantic, ran toward Emily, yelling, her arms outstretched.
“My baby. My baby. Give me my baby.”
Emily handed the baby to Elizabeth who clutched her baby and ran up into the train.
Others ran for the safety of the train as well. Emily, too transfixed to do anything, stood by and stared in awe at what looked like a sandstorm blowing across the plains. A shrill, piercing scream filled the air as Marian Aderley called for her boys.
“Jonathan. Jason. Where are you? Jonathan! Jason! Come here. Quick. Get inside the train.”
But there was no answer. Marian called again, her voice strained. Emily sympathized with the alarmed mother and ran to her side.
“Help,” Marian screamed. “I can’t find my boys. My boys are missing. I can’t find my boys.”
Emily couldn’t see them either. They had been exploring and had, more likely than not, wandered to the other side of the observation car.
“Around the back side,” Emily yelled, and motioned with her hand. “Check round the back.”
No time for modesty, both women lifted their skirts high, simultaneously, mindless of the show of their stockings. There was no telling what was headed their way.
Marian was already around the back of the train just as Emily approached the glistening, hot rails.
“Buffalo. A dang herd of buffalo coming our way,” a man shouted.
“Get back inside the train,” the conductor yelled to those still standing, gaping at the bizarre scene in front of them. He blew his whistle to get their attention. Everyone milling about rushed toward the train.
Emily screamed to Marian to get back inside, but the herd of shaggy buffalo’s hooves hitting the desert floor grew louder the closer they approached.
The boys were nowhere to be seen.
Marian disappeared in the brown haze obliterating everything including the train. The dry, gritty sand flew everywhere for miles. Emily covered her eyes to keep the sharp, prickling, stinging sand out, but the tiny granules clung to her hair and penetrated right through her clothing into her skin. Dust blew up her nose, making breathing difficult. She covered her face with her hands and bowed her head, turning away.
The thundering noise grew loud, closer. Emily turned her back, but not before she got a mouthful of the gritty, earthy, salty desert. Tumbleweed blew up against her back and almost knocked her over. She leaned into the train and hung on to the side rail for support.
The buffalo kept coming. On and on they thundered past as the passengers stared from inside the train through the dusty windows. The train swayed with the vibration of the herd and the wind their stampeding created. Emily didn’t know what had become of Marian Aderley and her boys. But right now, she had to think of her own safety. She let go of the rails and dove underneath the train. She inched her way over the track to the opposite side. Her dust-ridden skirt slid up around her waist, and her once white cotton petticoat caught on the rails and tore. She couldn’t see the entrance to the train; the sand storm was so thick. A welcomed hand grabbed hers, lifting her up into the coach as if she were nothing more than a flimsy rag doll. Her legs scraped against the iron steps. Her stockings tore.
A pair of strong arms held her steady as she was ushered toward the center of the car just as someone yelled, “Indians! Heaven help us! Indians!”
An empty seat appeared. Emily sank down with a sigh. She rested her head against the windowpane and shut her eyes tight. Her strength spent, she wanted nothing more than to sleep for a long time. Indians, or no Indians, buffalo, or no buffalo, she wanted to be anywhere but in the middle of the desert, in the middle of a wild Indian hunt where buffalo were being hunted. And slaughtered.
She wanted to be anywhere but stranded on a train going nowhere.
She was weak, shaky; she wished she were back home. The vision of those Indians riding like the wind across the desert floor and slaughtering buffalo, one after the other, remained no matter how tight she shut her eyes. She opened them, her curiosity getting the better of her. They were full of sand. The large dark-skinned, bare-chested Indians carrying guns and bows and arrows were a sight she could have lived without seeing again. Such carnage. They yelled and screamed in a strange tongue. The thudding of the horses and buffalo continued in a deadly chase.
Emily sagged against the seat and gave in to the fatigue. Men lined up along the windows, squeezing their faces against the dirty panes in an effort to see what was happening. Women crouched along the opposite side of the aisle, covering their faces in fright.
The sandstorm settled. Indians tended to the dead buffalo as if the train and passengers didn’t exist. Buffalo lay slaughtered on the dusty, desert floor. Indians stood over the large beasts, concentrating on their kill. Several of them rode their great white and chocolate colored pintos at a canter now the killing was over. Chests puffed up in pride, the Indians pranced around the outside of the killing area as if to keep hungry wild beasts at bay. They sat bareback, their own backs ram-rod straight.
Emily couldn’t take her eyes off them.
The desert sand soaked up the blood as the animals were cut and gutted. More Indians rode in with long logs tied with ropes and wrapped in canvas behind their horses. Their kill was hoisted onto a litter and carted away. They were an intense lot, and before long, they had slaughtered, gutted, and taken almost every scrap of the beasts.
Emily didn’t realize she held her breath until she released a long, deep sigh, and sat back, exhausted.
“We’re lucky,” the bearded Mr. O’Leary said. “Those Injuns are too busy gutting their kill to come afte
r us. I suspect, depending on how far away their village is, they’ll be back to get what they can from us. Most likely during the night.”
Emily shivered. Did Mr. O’Leary know what he was talking about? She was afraid to find out.
“Don’t let them fool ya,” a gentleman on her left said to the tall conductor who was walking down the aisle to check on everyone. “They’ll be back, they will. They’ll be waiting ’til after dark and come to find what they can aboard. They know we have supplies. Could be they’re the ones who put that big hole in the trestle so’s we couldn’t cross.”
Emily took heart when the conductor spoke up.
“We’ll be one step ahead of them, sir. We’ve telegraphed ahead and told the authorities at Silver Springs we’re in a bit of a fix and need reinforcements tonight. We won’t be waiting for no measly “grasshopper” to be pumped up and down by hand to come tomorrow to take a few of us at a time. We’ll cross the ravine tonight and make our way to the town up ahead.”
The conductor informed them the Sioux might be after supplies from the train, but they hadn’t hurt passengers in a long while. However, they all needed to be diligent and not tempt fate.
“Take only what’s necessary,” he said. “Just what you can carry. We’ll stow your items under the trestle until we can come back and fetch it later and hope the Sioux don’t find it first.”
The conductor stopped at Emily’s seat and looked down with concern. “Well, Mrs. Carmichael, how you doing, Ma’am? You were a might bit luckier than Mrs. Aderley and her two young’ens.”
Emily eyes shot opened wide. “What of Marian Aderley? Did she find her boys? What do you mean they weren’t lucky? They’re not dead are they?” Emily’s heart raced. She drew her hanky tight in her hands.
“The Missus found the one and lay atop him to keep him from getting trampled. She’s bruised up a bit. Her left leg is broken, and she has a few broken ribs, no doubt. The leg had to be splint. The older boy’s feeling mighty sorry for himself. He has a broken leg as well. Feels guilty, he does. The younger one wasn’t so lucky. He got kicked in the head. Not sure if he’s going to be okay.”
“Where is Mrs. Aderley? Can I see her?” Emily’s head buzzed. She wasn’t sure her legs could hold her, but she wanted to see how badly Marian was hurt.
Oh, dear Lord. What if her children had traveled with her? For the first time, she was glad they were home, safe. Her stomach lurched, and a hot, searing flush rose and heated her face. She gripped the seat ahead of her and took a couple of deep breaths.
“She’s up at the head of the car,” the conductor said, sounding as if he were far away. “We’ll have a devil’s own time getting her and the boys down the ravine and over the river. The men are in the process of making a sturdy hoist and raft to help everyone cross. Hope you’re feeling up to it, too, Miss, ’cause we have to get going real soon.”
The conductor made his way throughout the car telling everyone to shut the shades and start preparing for the crossing. They might not be bothered by the Indians at the moment, but they would surely be back sometime during the night or early morning to scavenge for anything of value on the train.
Emily ignored the rest of the conductor’s words as he wandered throughout the coach. Her own worries forgotten, Emily lifted her sand-soaked, tar-smeared petticoats and walked to the front of the car where Marian Aderley sat huddled in a corner with her oldest son, Jonathan. They sat with their broken legs propped up on a board that rested across the aisle on to the opposite seat. Marian’s arm was wrapped and tucked next to her ribs, which were also bandaged. Her beautiful day dress was covered with dirt, now ground into the delicate fabric. For sure it would never wash out. On closer inspection, washing wouldn’t help; the dress was torn, the left sleeve missing. Her son’s face was bruised, ashen, and tear-streaked. A far cry from the laughing, playful fellow who had been jumping up and down a few hours ago with his brother. Now sad and distraught, the boy hung his head in pain.
Jason lay on the floor unconscious, a folded blanket under his head. His body was swollen and distorted from being trampled. Emily looked away. She agreed with the conductor. Jason wasn’t going to survive the night. Her heart ached for Marian Aderley. She sent up a silent pray to help them all through this horrendous evening and get them to safety. And soon.
“Are they going to shoot us like they do horses because we broke our legs?” Jonathan cried, a low whimpering, agonizing plea from such a small child. “I saw Doc Hadley shoot Dad’s horse last year after it tumbled down a hillside and broke two legs. The buckboard rolled on top of the horse. Pa said if I ever broke my leg, he’d shoot me.” He hung his head, his hands shaking.
“They don’t shoot people when they break a leg,” Emily reassured him. “Your father was just concerned you take care not to do so. Already your leg has been put in a splint, just like your mother’s, until you can get proper attention in San Francisco. In the meantime, just try not to worry. Has anyone given either of you something for the pain?”
Marian shook her head, tears flowing down her ashen cheeks.
“I have some Dover’s powder in my bag. I’ll be right back.”
Emily rushed back to her seat in search of her carry bag. She rifled through it until she found the packet. The Aderley’s needed it more than she did at the moment. If nothing else, it would make the crossing less painful for them.
The engineers and trainmen prepared a wooden platform constructed with the timber from the broken trestle. Using twine and rope they found in the baggage car, they wove it around the lumber to create a good-sized hoist. As the evening shadows fell, the descent got underway. They tested the winch by loading food, blankets, and other necessary items onto the platform, swung it out over the edge of the ravine, then slowly hoisted it into the canyon below. Once they were sure it would hold the weight, they began conveying the Aderleys and more elderly passengers into the gully.
“Careful of your leg now, Mrs. Aderley. Lay still so’s we can lift ya onto the platform. ’Tis safe to be sure,” Mr. O’Leary cautioned. “Once ya settle, the men will help load the boys.”
Emily stood to the side as Mr. O’Leary helped the trainmen maneuver Marian onto the platform. She put her arms around Jonathan to comfort him while his limp and lifeless brother was carefully placed next to her. Only then did Emily let go and allow the men to swing the boy’s broken leg onto the wooden platform so he could be with his family. The Dover’s powder she’d given them had helped to ease their pain, but no way did it alleviate their mental agony.
Elizabeth Young and her infant were next. She clung to her baby and stepped onto the platform, then sat down in the center of the make-shift contraption.
“Mrs. Carmichael, I think you’re next.”
The two Weaver sisters stood huddled nearby, deep in worried conversation.
“Let the sisters go with Mrs. Young. I can wait.”
“That’s right kind of ya, Ma’am. Ladies,” he called to the elderly sisters. “’Tis time to be getting aboard.”
Pansy and Violet rushed forward. Violet stopped in front of Emily.
“Thank you, my dear. Pansy is in a snit, and it’d be best if we get her on the other side so she don’t fret about those Indians.”
“You’re more than welcome. We’ll all be down in no time.”
The women climbed aboard, sat close to Elizabeth Young, and gripped each other as the hoist was lifted and swung over the edge. They disappeared over the side and down into the ravine.
Those waiting their turn lent a helping-hand to others in need. When the family with two young ladies was taken care of, Emily allowed Mr. O’Leary to help her onto the lift. Once settled in the center, she clung to the ropes for support and closed her eyes tight as the apparatus swung out over the jagged rocks and down into the ravine far below.
As she neared the ravine floor, she heard others as they cried out in pain. Too anxious to get down below, many had refused to wait for the lift. They started down
on their own. One man lost his footing and slid over sharp jagged rocks, landing on his back. Stone and gravel gave way. Emily cringed, and at the same time breathed in the dirt and dust from the rock slides. Two other men ignored the man’s dilemma and started down over the side as well. The men slid to the bottom and landed with a heavy thud as they hit the hard basin floor, unhurt. The fear of staying behind in the event the Indians returned was far greater than a bruise or two, or even a broken bone like the Aderley’s. She didn’t blame any of them for not wanting to spend the night in the train not knowing what might happen come dawn.
The lift settled on the edge of the flowing river. Emily paused until her legs could support her shaking body. She sent up a silent prayer of thanks she’d landed safety on solid ground. After a steadying breath, she searched out the Aderleys and Elizabeth Young.
The others gathered next to the rushing current of the river. They stood in expectation as several men traversed the rapids in search of the shallowest spot in which to cross; away from the quick, churning rapids. Water rose above the knees of three of the men and up to the waist on the others. The men finally gained control, raised their arms in success, and gave a hearty cheer. It echoed across the ravine as others joined in the celebration.
Belongings were rafted across first in an attempt to make sure the passage would be safe to transport everyone across. At one point the raft tipped precariously.
“Dear Lord, they’re going to fall into the drink. Look,” someone yelled from the shore.
Two hefty men ran toward the river’s edge, mindless of their clothes, and rushed to help. The current held them back, but with effort they finally caught hold of the small raft. One of the men climbed up on the raft for extra weight, while the other grabbed the cable and helped the men steady the raft in the water before jumping up onto the small flat structure to maintain better control. In the meantime, several more ventured forward to assist but were met with the heavy rapids. They were dragged under, bobbed up and down several times, and then regained their foothold before they reached the raft and safety. With much care, the men crossed the river without further incident. The return trip was a bit trickier; there was no weight to hold the makeshift raft down and steady.