The Traherns #1

by Nancy Radke

  The men got out the shovels and started the graves right then. There was no time to waste; everyone wanted to get the burial over and move out of the area and I didn't blame them.

  I felt all hollow inside, with an emptiness that grief had created and only time could heal. Mr. Hayes read the words and the train started up again, with Barney Ashley riding beside me.

  We were running short on men and no longer had one to a wagon. Calvert Smith was driving his own rig after Joe Peters had dropped the wagon on himself trying to change a wheel. It had busted up his foot and he had to keep it up high to keep infection from setting in.

  Owen Madison had been drowned crossing the Kansas River although he had two boys, Gavin and Gareth, to keep their family going. Gavin was married to Kate, a nice girl, eight months pregnant, who seemed to get on well with her mother-in-law, Glenda. Gareth was twenty years old, a hard worker and a good shot.

  And during this attack Uncle Dem and Aunt Edith had been killed and Duncan Ashley was injured when his horse stepped in a hole and threw him as the wagons were racing for the knoll. Barney was with me now, but I knew I couldn't ask him to do Uncle Dem's work; with his father injured he wouldn't even be able to give much help to Axel.

  I was going to have to do my own work somehow. The years of working Pa's farm would help. I was as strong as you could expect out of a girl, but not brawny and there was only so much I could lift. Given time, I could do most anything; using ropes and tackles I had always managed at the farm. But these folks wouldn't want to wait for me. And I had no money to hire a man to help me even if there had been a man for hire in the wagons.

  Watching the four mules pulling the wagon, I realized that I had to do what Aunt Edith wouldn't...empty out excess weight. They were pulling fine now, but the road was smooth and hard. That oak wagon was sturdy, but heavy all by itself. It could be used as a freight wagon if need be, and Uncle Dem had mentioned earning himself some spending money in Oregon hauling freight.

  If I wanted both wagon and mules to make the rest of the trip, I'd have to lighten the load. The heavy furniture would have to go. And I'd give those baby clothes to Kate Madison if she wanted them.

  Mr. Hayes rode up on his large bay gelding and motioned for Barney to leave. "Your Pa needs you," he said, and waited for Barney to run forward before moving his horse in close to where I sat.

  I waited for him to speak; by the looks on his face it wasn't anything I wanted to hear. "Barney's going to be busy enough without helping you, Miss Buchanan. You're going to have to take care of yourself, best you can. I don't want you calling on the other menfolk for help either, their wives won't like it."

  "I've been trying to think what to do—"

  "Be best if you got married. That way there'd be no problems, no hard feelings."

  "Oh, but—" That was a drastic solution. And not one I cared for. I didn't even know the young men on this train very well. None of them had paid me no notice, wrapped up in Pa's blue coat as I'd been with that old hat and scarf on...they probably hadn't even noticed I was young.

  "You think about it. Out here, a woman without a man don't last long. Country's too hard."

  "I'll make it. I can do the work myself." I was determined to stay independent.

  "See that you do. I want no trouble on this train."

  He rode off and I watched him go, riding away with his back ramrod straight. I wouldn't get any help from him and I wouldn't put it past him to keep others from helping me.

  My words had scarcely left my lips when we arrived at another river crossing. They were all deep with the spring rains still in them. A few were wide and shallow, but most were swift and dangerous. I was still in the end position which gave me time to get ready for the crossing.

  Before, with Uncle Dem, Aunt Edith and myself working together, it took us no time at all since each of us had certain jobs we would do. Now I had to do it all and it took time to figure out the things Uncle Dem had done. I had trouble blocking up the wagon bed to the top of the standard, but made it unaided.

  It looked like I was going to make this journey at the tail end of the line, because there was no way the rest were going to wait for me every time we had to cross a river.

  Of the four mules the new leaders were small and when they hit swimming depth all I could see were their heads. I felt the wagon pulling them sideways downstream and urged them onwards. They were giving their all, but not going to make it, when Cordell Knast swam his horse up close and tossed me a rope to tie onto the wagon's side.

  He was using a western saddle and wrapped the rope around the horn and swam upstream enough to help my mules make it across. Even then we missed the main landing area, but fortunately came out at a spot with enough slope we could get the wagon out. For sure I had to off load some of Aunt Edith's things.

  Nothing was lost by anyone, but that was one of the smaller, tamer rivers and I pondered how I was to cross anything larger. We made camp fairly late that night and I had my next challenge. The men usually unhitched the mules and then pulled the wagons close together by hand. There was no way I was going to be able to pull that wagon even a few feet.

  Knowing this, I'd thought it out, how to do it, earlier. I stopped as close as I could and unhitched the onside leader and the offside wheeler. That way there were still two mules left to help pull and I could lead them sharply to the side and forward into the slot. It worked slick and I could see some of the men figuring out that that weren't too bad an idea.

  By the time the mules were unhitched and led out to be herded onto the tall grass, I was all in. There was still supper to make; it would have to be cornmeal mush, something quick and easy...maybe start some beans to soaking for tomorrow. But first I climbed into the back of the wagon and looked at the furniture.

  Uncle Dem had wanted to leave many of the pieces of furniture behind, but Aunt Edith wouldn't do it. I didn't have a sentimental attachment to any of it, however, and decided to take the heavy dining room table and leave it behind. It took up the most space and it would be easier to build another table than a dresser. Of course it would not be a beautiful one like this one, with it's dark polished wood, smooth as velvet to the touch, but it was important to make room for food and water barrels and lighten the load for the mules.

  The chairs I kept, the dresser and rug, also, but the heavy four-poster bed had to go. The large feather mattress would make a good bed by itself as it was light and could be easily moved around, so it stayed.

  Stepping down from the wagon, I walked over to Axel's wagon and explained what I wanted to do. Hedda shook her head at the decision, her woman's heart—like mine—saddened by the loss of such beauty; but Axel agreed. "It's too heavy, Mama, you know that. Mallory's only doing what Edith should 'a done."

  You could see it brought Hedda sorrow, but she hadn't been in that overloaded wagon today, watching the mules fight gallantly to pull against the current. He accompanied me over to the wagon and helped me lift the pieces out and replace what I had decided to keep.

  "What should I do with their clothing?" I asked. "Aunt Edith was smaller than I am; none of her things will fit me."

  "They might fit Hedda. I'll ask her. And your Uncle Dem was a tall man, taller than any of us here, but we could always cut it shorter. Most of us are well kitted out, but you could see if some of his stuff might fit that there wounded man Web brought in. He hadn't a stitch to his name when Web found him."

  I'd forgotten about him. "What happened exactly?"

  "Injins stripped him and staked him out in an ant hill. They were sitting around, watching, cutting him up some to help the ants along when Web got there. He wasn't very pretty when Web brought him in. We threw a blanket over him so as you women folk wouldn't see."

  "D'you think it was the same group that attacked us?"

  "Could've been. Don't rightly know."

  "He's still alive, though?"

  "Yeah. Web's got him in Cordell's wagon. He was shot a couple of times. Web’s been fixin
’ him up. Said it'll take more'n that to kill that gent."

  "Then if he can use Uncle Dem's things, let him have 'em."

  "I'll mention it. When he's well enough, he can try 'em on."

  "Thanks, Axel. I want to do this while I still can."

  "What does that mean?"

  "As we were pulling out today, I had to get Barney to help me re-hitch the mules. They'd gotten tangled during the attack and I couldn't untangle them. I delayed the whole train. Later Mr. Hayes stopped by and told me that with us being short-handed and all, he expected me to handle my own affairs and not be calling on the men for help. Said the women folk wouldn't like it, their husbands always running off to help me, and that Barney's mother needed him now that Duncan was hurt."

  "He told you that, huh?"

  "Yes. I can see why. Already I've had to ask you to help unload my wagon."

  "I don't mind."

  "No, but Hedda might, if I keep asking you. And I don't really dare ask anyone else."

  "I'll speak to Hedda. And to Mr. Hayes."

  "Don't, Axel, please. Let's see how I get along first. Having the wagon lighter will mean I can ride in it and save some strength that way. I won't have to help push it across gullies the way Uncle Dem was doing and it should take the rivers better. I might not have to call upon anyone very often."

  "Alright, but you be careful. Some things a woman just can't handle alone. Now come and have some supper with us."

  "Oh, Axel, I shouldn't."

  "Hedda always fixes more than we can eat. I usually get it again the next day, so come along and have some. You don't eat much and you haven't even had time to get a fire going, much less fix anything."

  Hedda had some stew in the pot and I ate hungrily. I thanked her and would've helped clean up but she told me to hasten back to my own work. I filled a bucket with water and poured in lots of dried beans. They could soak all night and I would cook them tomorrow evening.

  I might have to live on beans for the rest of the trip, but at least I would eat. I could reheat them in the pot each time until they were a mash, then I would start frying them. Any meat or vegetables I come by could be thrown in the pot. It would still be more food that I'd had on my long walk out of the Tennessee hills.

  The funeral had been quick and short. I had removed my uncle's knife and gun and both their shoes, knowing that the living could use them more. Other than that, I had buried them as they lived, side by side.

  The shock of loss was still in me and I didn't cry until that evening, as I put away some of my uncle's things. If that stranger could wear them, he was right welcome to help himself. I made up a large bundle and set it aside and sure enough, Web came around, asking how I was doing.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “We’ll see how well I do as we git further on,” I told him, and handed him the bundle of clothes. “Here’s some things for that there wounded man.”

  "Thanks, Mallory. He'll appreciate this. We tried to put some of Cordell's things on him and got a good laugh."

  "The rest is here for him. He's welcome to all of Uncle Dem's things." I had no use for a razor or any of Uncle Dem's personal items, come to that. I had my Pa's knife and guns, although my uncle's rifle was better than Pa's.

  "Wait a bit," I said and reached over to where the weapons lay. I had never shot Uncle Dem's rifle and wasn't about to give it up without trying it out first, but a man needs to be armed in this land and a pistol and knife would see him until I had decided which rifle I wanted. I added these to the pile.

  "That's right generous of you."

  "He can have a rifle, too, soon as I try Uncle Dem's out and see which one I'd want to keep myself."

  "That was a fine piece of shooting you did back there. Necessary."

  "Thanks." Web wasn't a man to be loose with his praise, so I knew he meant it and it pleased me to have this frontiersman say that. It hadn't been difficult—men are larger than squirrels—but I'd never shot a man before and shooting them had brought an additional, sick feeling of loss that added to the empty loss of my uncle and aunt. It had been them or me, but it still bothered me that I'd taken lives.

  Women were born to give life, not to take it; to heal not to hurt.

  Right now I felt like I had been born tired. As soon as Web left, I flopped down on that feather mattress, pulled a blanket over me and passed out.

  Mr. Hayes called me at daybreak to ride out with Elliot and him to guard the stock being herded out on the grass again. I grabbed my rifle, pistol and hat and climbed out, realizing this was one of Uncle Dem's jobs that I'd forgotten about. I wasn't even going to have time to fix breakfast if this kept up. And for sure there'd be no chance to fix a bait of lunch to eat as I went along.

  I saddled Uncle Dem's horse, Comfort, and swung on, having a harder time getting my leg over the horn but knowing it'd be easier to stay on than it had been on Elliot's flat saddle. It was almost as good as a sidesaddle, for the horn gave me something to grip with my right leg. The stirrup was too long and I had to dismount to unlace it and move it shorter. I didn't bother with the other stirrup, for the men were untying the stock and I had to untie my mules and take them out, too. And all the time Comfort was doing a skittish dance of his own, having never carried a woman with skirts.

  He would get used to them and I spoke to him constantly, assuring him that all that cloth wasn't going to hurt him none. Uncle Dem had used a slicker in the rain, so cloth things weren't totally foreign to him, but it did make the ride out more interesting, with him rolling his eyes around until the whites showed.

  The stock had already put their heads down and were making the most of the tall grass when I rode up. Comfort started eating as soon as I stopped him and I sat there, rifle in hand, watching the grass around us. I had found out the day before how little cover an Indian needs to hide in and this tall grass could've hid a whole tribe. The animals weren't paying no mind and they usually would raise their heads and look if they were aware of anything unusual.

  Elliot Hayes rode up and wanted to talk, but I motioned him away. If he wanted to sit here, in this spot, then he could and I'd go back to the wagons. He gave me a cheerful "Good Morning" in spite of the grumpy look I gave him and made me feel right ashamed before he rode off.

  We let them eat for two hours before bringing them back in. By the time I'd separated out my four mules, hitched two of them to the wagon, and got the other two in harness and ready to be hitched up when the other wagons pulled away and left me room, there wasn't time left for me to fix anything to eat. Mr. Hayes was rushing everyone through their chores and out onto the trail as if pursued by a swarm of bees.

  I was hungry and my stomach growling. Today was my day to lead, but I told the family behind me to pull out and go first, putting me at the end again. There was no way I could move until the others moved and when they did, I got the tongue straightened out and those two mules hitched up right quick. It didn't take me long to close the gap.

  It was a lovely day, not too hot or too cold right then and I got to feeling if I could figure out how to eat on the fly I might make it. I left those mules to follow on their own accord and climbed back into the wagon to check what food I had. The beans were soaked and ready to cook; I'd fix them tonight regardless of how tired I was.

  For now I fixed up a mixture of uncooked corn meal, water and sorghum molasses and drank it. It wasn't too bad and made my stomach happy. I climbed back up front to see my mules were still following the train but they had lagged quite a bit and had to be urged to close up ranks again. I had brought my comb up with me and combed out that long mane of hair I had before covering it over again with my hat and scarf.

  People came by to visit on and off all day and to offer their sympathy, so I didn't get much rest. To some folks, visiting is relaxing, but I've never been that big on words and they don't come that easy to me. But it was thoughtful of them to make the effort and I thanked them for their words.

  Even better, when Hedda came by at the n
oon rest, she brought me a hunk of bread and cheese. And a message.

  It seemed the word was out not to help me any more than they would help another man. Thus I could expect help if my wagon wheel busted and another needed to be put on, but I would have to pull my own weight and lift my own burdens as I had claimed I could.

  I would also have to hunt my own meat and gather my own fuel. Axel and Hedda figured Mr. Hayes was planning to force me into marriage, preferably with his son, Elliot, and they were very upset.

  Doing double work was wearing me down already and I remembered how hard it had been on the mountain farm with Pa gone and Ma sick. This was worse, for then at least there was time to eat. I wolfed down Hedda's food, pondering the situation, and didn't like it at all.

  "You could leave this wagon and come with us, Mallory," she suggested. It was kind of her, but she and Axel were overly crowded the way it was. I had learned that during our long journey to the Missouri River.

  Back then, with nothing, I had been able to help them and them me. But now that I had possessions, I was tied to them. I could give up the wagon and Uncle Dem's plow and seed and food, but then I'd be right back to where I started.

  A woman alone had a hard time of it in the west, but a woman without any assets whatsoever would find it impossible. I would be a constant burden to them that way. This way...well if I had to, I could always trade or sell Uncle Dem's outfit for enough money to get me started somewhere.

  It would even buy me a husband, I thought. There were several young men in that train driving beat-up wagons that would marry me instantly to get their hands on that outfit. The wagon alone was a prime possession, better than Mr. Hayes' and better than Calvert Smith's and they were both well off.

  Uncle Dem had been an artist with tools and his work reflected it. He had built the wagon himself, over a period of a year, making something that would last for years. I wasn't about to leave it on the plains, and the man I sold it to would have to come up with enough money to persuade me to part with it.