by Carré White
The Chandlers were waiting by the wagon with a small cooking fire ablaze. A heavy skillet fried bacon, the aroma filling the air.
“Paulina.” Mary motioned for me to come nearer. “Can you watch this?”
“Of course.”
“We’re going to have to buy provisions this morning. They’re leaving by midday.”
“I can stay and mind the wagon, if you want.”
“Yes, my dear, but we’ll be taking it with us. We need the tents and things looked after.”
“Oh, how stupid. Of course.”
Abner approached, his expression good-natured. “It’s settled then. I think I can find a good price for the china cabinet. We can’t take it with us. I’m sorry.”
“I know. I’ve been preparing myself for this eventuality.”
“Your mother would be proud of you for bringing it this far.” His eyes shone with humor. “The porters nearly dropped it on the platform in Michigan. That should’ve been an omen.”
“I remember.”
“I’ll get my billfold, and we’ll be on our way.”
“Let’s eat first, Abner. My goodness. The bacon’s almost done.”
We sat on crates, with metal dishes in our laps. Then we bowed our heads briefly, while Abner said grace. The bacon was served with cold soda biscuits dipped in grease. The breeze brought over the smell of coffee and tobacco, as the miners nearby settled in for the first meal of the day.
After the Chandlers left, I washed out the pan with water. The area was littered with fragments of tents, water kegs, blankets, and luggage. The wagon had been emptied completely. They had brought the china cabinet to town. Some lucky woman would soon own the finely crafted piece of furniture.
It was more than two hours later when I glimpsed their return. Four oxen, instead of two, drew the wagon now. I got to my feet, squinting in the morning sun to catch a better glimpse.
When they drew near, Abner called to me. “We’ve got an hour to pack it all up.”
I rushed over. “Did you get everything?” I eyed them expectantly.
“Yes,” murmured Mary. “More than enough.” She stepped from the wagon, her cheeks ruddy. “Help me with the packages. I need to make sure the perishables are at the front.”
“Yes, Mrs. Chandler.”
She smiled kindly. “You’re such a good girl, Paulina.”
“Oh, you haven’t seen me tired and cross yet,” I giggled. “I’m just as ill-mannered as anyone then.”
“Aren’t we all.”
The wagon carried a load of 2,500 pounds, most of which was food: flour, lard, bacon, and beans. They had bought fruit, coffee, salt, and kegs of fresh water, but this would all run out eventually. A case of wine and several bottles of whiskey were stowed with the luggage.
When we were nearly finished, shouts rang out, catching our attention. Someone banged a pot and pan, and we went to see what the commotion was. A group of men stood on a wagon, it’s canvas top taken down. I glimpsed Helen at a distance; her baby fussed again, crying distractingly.
“I’ll be back.”
“Don’t go far, my dear,” said Mary. “They want to speak to us before we set out.”
“Helen needs help. I won’t be long.” I approached the frazzled looking mother, her hair untidy. “Hello.”
“Oh, goodness.”
“How are you?”
“I’m waiting for Jason. He’s still in town getting things. I’ve not been able to pack anything yet, because Laura’s so fussy.”
I held out my hands. “Give her to me. I’ll take her so you can finish your chores.”
Her look betrayed relief. “You’re an angel.”
The baby wore a white bonnet, her cheeks adorably puffy. She stared at me, blue eyes focusing on my face. “You remember me, don’t you?” Her pink lips were wet with drool. “Let’s go for a walk, all right?”
My voice was soft and at a higher pitch, as I intuitively knew babies would like this. Laura seemed mesmerized by me, her gaze never wavering. I strolled towards Abner and Mary. The homesteaders had gathered to hear what the announcement would be. There were three men standing before them, the first being the tallest. He wore dark trousers with a gray sack coat. A calico shirt was beneath, tucked in and secured by a thick leather belt. A revolver was secured in a holster at his thigh. A wide-brimmed hat completed the look, although it hid his face. The other two were shorter, one especially stocky, his belly protruding. The third was thin and short, his clothing mis-matched. They also sported weapons at their sides.
“Listen up, folks!” said the taller of the men. “Gather around, please! You need to hear what I have to say.”
I held Laura, who remained quiet; her tiny hand clung to the satin sash of my bonnet. This had captured her attention completely. The throng had gathered around; the scent of unwashed bodies mixed with the odor of manure, as the animals had soiled the site.
“I’m Samuel Tucker. I’ll be your wagon master. I have a list of participating families, and I’ll need to check everybody off before we go. I know some folks weren’t able to make it.” He glanced at the crowd. “I hope you got everything you needed. I can’t stress how important water is. If you think you have enough, you don’t. You’ll run out before Fort Kearny, trust me. I’ll be your guide along with Tom Meek and William Baker.” He indicated the men standing next to him. “In case you’re wonderin’, I’ve done the route five time before, Tom’s done it six, and Will’s the baby, with only two.” He grinned, flashing white teeth.
I had wandered amongst the settlers finding a spot near the wagon, staring up at the men, who held our fate in their hands. It was well known how dangerous such a mission was, especially the journey over the mountains. I’d read the article in the New York Tribune warning about the “palpable homicide” of such an endeavor, yet I would not be swayed, because I was determined to see my sister.
“Now listen up! Every wagon should have an extra axle. If you don’t, go back to town and get one.” He glanced at me, while I stood with the baby in my arms. His lips curved slightly into a grin. “I want to warn all the mothers with children to keep an eye on ‘em, especially around the wagon wheels. We’ve fatalities every season from someone gettin’ run over. I’d like to avoid that this year. Also, please be mindful when you clean your weapons. Accidental discharge of firearms can be fatal.” He placed his hands on lean hips. “I’m in charge of law and order. My brand of justice is quick and to the point.” His look was stern now. “I won’t tolerate abusive behavior towards women and children. They’ll be no fighting. I don’t cotton to stealing either. If you get caught doing these things…you will be punished accordingly.”
I transferred Laura to my other hip, while staring at Samuel Tucker, finding him perplexingly appealing. From this angle, his face was revealed, and I was treated to a view of perfectly proportioned features, high cheekbones, and a determined chin, although he needed to shave. His nose was slightly crooked, preventing him from being too handsome. He glanced at me.
“We had one of the worst seasons for cholera last year. This is a serious illness. I’ve seen people die within twenty-four hours of the onset of symptoms. I can’t stress enough the importance of building a functional latrine at every stop. Do not do your business in the river. We gotta drink from that river. Filter the water first by using a clean cloth. Then boil it. Don’t drink nothin’ unless it’s boiled.” He held a piece of paper. “Now I gotta check names. Then we can go. Form an orderly line, please.” He jumped from the wagon, landing no more than three feet before me. “Hello,” he said. “Who might you be?”
“Paulina.”
“Mrs?” he waited for a reply.
I shook my head. “No, just Paulina Hoffman.” He looked confused, glancing at the baby. “Oh, this is Laura. She’s Helen Stuart’s child.”
“I see.” He glanced at the paper. “I got you now.”
Our eyes met. His were a light shade of brown surrounded by thick lashes. Mr. Tucker’s
appraisal was interested, yet cautious, the polite smile never wavering. My belly flipped over, tingling with strange after-effects. I wasn’t able to make sense out of this odd reaction, because he turned his attention to the people standing next to him, checking off names on the list. Effectively dismissed, I wandered amongst the homesteaders, seeing the eagerness in their expressions. Several wagons had ambled towards the town; I assumed to buy more supplies.
“Oh, there you are,” said Helen. “You’re such a dear to watch her.”
“She’s no trouble at all.”
“She sure seems to like you. She’s so quiet.”
“I brought some sewing with me. I’m going to make her a doll later. I can use the stuffing from my pillow.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“It’ll keep me busy when I’m not walking. It’s no bother at all. It’ll help pass the time.”
Helen took Laura. “I need to change her before we go.”
“I’ll see you on the trail then.”
“Most certainly.”
“Did Jason come back?”
“Yes, but he forgot something. You’d think after six months of planning we would have it all in order.” She sighed. “It’s always something.”
I walked away, waving. “See you at supper.”
“We should follow your wagon.”
“I’ll tell Mr. Chandler to wait for you.”
“Thank you.”
Once everyone had returned and the wagon master had gone over the passenger manifest, we began the arduous task of maneuvering the animals towards the road, the first teams leaving slowly. When each wagon was ready, they followed the one before, until there was a long line of wagons with riders on either side. The first day would be relatively short, because we had to obtain provisions and wait for others to join us—the last of the stragglers.
By the time we were well and truly on the trail, a sense of excitement rushed through me. I sat with Mary, while Abner walked, talking with a man from another wagon. Their laughter mingled with the clanging of harnesses, and the creaking of the wooden wheels, the hind ones substantially larger than the front. Our canvas top provided ample shade, enough to cover my feet. Mary had purchased rock candy, and she shared some of it with me.
I set to work on the doll I promised Laura, finding a small kit of sewing supplies in my bag. I was able to maneuver around inside the wagon, although the space was limited. The packages in the back reached to the roof. When we stopped for supper, the sun had just begun to set, casting a reddish tinge against the clouds in the distance. Fields of green fanned out on either side of the path, the land nearly barren of trees.
The arduous task of erecting the tents began, after the wagons had been placed in a large circle, effectively trapping the animals. The oxen ate copious amounts of grass, finding water in a small creek. Fires were lit, while people prepared dinner. Ours consisted of beefsteak and onions with fried cakes. It was served beneath brown gravy and was surprisingly delicious. Mary was skilled at cooking, having had plenty of experience in this area. I helped her where I was able, bringing water and finding the seasonings we needed to improve the taste.
The atmosphere was festive, as music from a neighboring campsite drifted over. Someone had a harmonica, while a flute played as well. I strolled the perimeter after dinner, searching for the latrine and finding it on the far end. This was my least favorite aspect of the journey. I noticed that there were quite a few people who wandered off into the prairie to do their business, not wanting to use the facilities. Within the smelly latrine tent, there was a jug of water for hand washing. This had been mixed with yucca root. The soapy concoction smelled slightly acrid.
When I finished, I wandered around, eyeing the various wagons, as some of them were outfitted with more steel than others, making them heavier. There was a bit of a disparity between the miners and the other travelers; the miners were clearly of a lesser station in life and rough around the edges. As I passed their campsites, they called out to me; some of the men were drunk already. I had crossed the enclosure, nearing our wagon, when a hand shot out, grabbing my arm.
“Oh!” I jumped, gasping.
“Now there, honey,” jeered a toothless man, who reeked of whiskey. “Ain’t ya a purty one?”
“Please, let me go.” I pulled on my arm, but the grip was disturbingly strong. “I’ll scream.”
“I should introduce myself. I’m Buck McKinley. I’ll be rich soon enough. I’m headin’ for Pike’s Peak.”
“Good for you.” I grimaced at the smell of his breath. “If you’ll excuse me.” I meant to step away from him, but my boot caught on the bottom of my hem. Losing my balance, I fell forward, landing on my chest, which knocked the wind out of me. Gasping for breath, I thought I would lose consciousness all together.
“That’s enough, you mudsill!” barked a deep, angry voice. “Go back to your camp, and leave the women alone.” Strong hands gripped my arms, bringing me to my feet. I struggled to breathe, feeling like my lungs had collapsed. “There now, are you all right?”
I stared into the concerned eyes of Samuel Tucker. “Yes, sir.”
“Wind got knocked outta you?”
I nodded. “Tripped on my hem.”
“They’ll do it.”
“I’m fine, sir. You don’t have to make a fuss over me.”
“It’s dangerous wandering around alone at night.”
“I had to use…the privy.”
His look was solemn. “Next time you might want to take a companion.”
“I’ll remember that.”
“Your name is Paulina, right?”
“Yes.”
He held out a hand. “Samuel.”
“I know. You gave a speech earlier today.”
“I’ll escort you back to your campsite, if you’ll allow me.”
“That would be nice.”
Several sets of eyes watched us, as we wandered through the enclosure; the animals had been corralled towards the back. “You’ve been doing this for some time then?”
“Five years.”
“Where are you from?”
“Chicago.”
“Oh.”
“My family’s in banking. I’m the black sheep.” His eyes skimmed over me. “Why are you out here?”
“I’m going to see my sister in Denver City. She’s been living there since last year.”
“Is that where you’ll stay?”
“I think so. I don’t see any reason to go to California.”
“The land is verdant there, but it’s pleasant in the Kansas Territory as well. Where are you from?”
“New York.”
He seemed to consider that for a moment. “Been there once. Have family there.”
“Will you settle in California then?”
“Eventually.”
I couldn’t help wondering if he had a wife, although I didn’t see a wedding band. These questions remained unspoken, as we neared the wagon.
“Who are these people you’re traveling with?”
“Friends of the family.”
We faced one another, as he had stopped walking. “Are you a mail order bride?”
This was a shock. “Um…oh, no. Not at all. Why do you ask?”
“Last couple of seasons, I’ve seen a few.”
“They come out here alone?”
He shook his head. “No, they have companions. Sometimes they travel together. There’s a shortage of women in these parts.”
The way he grinned, the warm light in his eyes, made my belly tingle pleasurably. “I’m not a mail order bride. I prefer to know who I’m marrying, thank you very much.”
“It is better that way or maybe not,” he laughed. “There’s an argument for both sides of that story.”
“A-are you married?” I regretted that question the moment it left my lips. That had been far too forward, and I knew it.
His eyes seemed to darken, as they lingered on my face. “No, ma’am. I’
m not married.” He tipped his hat. “I’ll be bidding you a good night now. You have a restful sleep. Don’t let the noise from those miners keep you up. They like to kick up a row every now and then.”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Rescuing me from…those men.”
“Hardly. I’m sure you would’ve screamed loud enough to bring the house down.” He began to walk away.
“Good night, Mr. Tucker.”
“Samuel. It’s just Samuel.”
Chapter Three
I caught myself watching him, as he strolled leisurely through the campsites, until he disappeared behind a wagon. The encounter had left me feeling almost giddy, while nervous energy pinged in my stomach.
“There you are,” said Mary. “What took you so long?”
“I had to use the privy.”
“Good gracious, but I need to also.”
“I know where it is. I’ll take you.”
“Oh, thank you, my dear.”
“You shouldn’t go alone. There are horrible miners over there.”
Her look was concerned. “Did they cause you trouble?”
“Um…they were…rude.”
“My dear, they’d hardly notice me at all. An old woman wouldn’t interest them. But I can see why you’d garner their attention.”
“I doubt that matters. They’d behave poorly, no matter what. They’re very drunk.”
“Then we shall go together. There’s safety in numbers.”
“Yes, there is.”
When we returned, I crawled into the tent, finding the pillow to be flattened. I fluffed it up and lay upon it, staring at the canvas cloth around me. The sounds of the camp continued; there were voices murmuring, crockery clanging, and the occasional neigh of a horse. These disturbances began to drift together…while my eyes closed and an image of a tall, handsome man filled my mind.