by Carré White
Later that evening, the atmosphere at camp was jovial, as the settlers had purchased things they needed and some extras. The violinist played a happy, upbeat tune, while campfires blazed, the aroma of meat lingering in the air. People had gone to the river, washing and scrubbing clothing, as pants and shirts hung from lines across the wagons, drying. I considered the same thing, but Mary wanted to wait another day and wash things tomorrow night. I craved a bath, but I had to make due with a bowl of water and the abrasive quality of lye soap.
I’d emerged from the tent in time to see Samuel, who had appeared at our site. “Howdy.” He grinned good-naturedly. “How are you all on this fine evenin’?”
He seemed happier than I had ever seen him. “I’m fine, and you?”
“Fair to drunk, but otherwise perfect.”
His hair looked wet. “Did someone spill their drink on you?”
“No ma’am. I flung myself into the river.”
“I’d do that too, if I could.”
“It was a mighty-fine time.”
“I’m sure it was.”
He leaned in slightly. “You’ve got nothin’ to worry about. You’re just as pretty filthy.”
That compliment stunned me, as I gaped at him.
“I mean, er…I shouldn’t have said that.”
My smile would not be contained. “I don’t mind, Mr. Tucker. You can offer up all the compliments you want. I have a few of my own as well.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Like what?”
“I better keep it to myself.”
“Aw…where’s the fun in that?”
“It would be impolite to say anything else.”
“Now you’ll have me wondering all night. Is it my good looks or my charm?”
“So humble.”
“Not after a coupla whiskeys.”
“No,” I giggled. “Not at all.”
“Mr. Tucker.” Mrs. Chandler’s stern voice resonated. “Your singular attention to Ms. Hoffman has been duly noted, sir.” He turned towards her, as she stood nearby with her hands on her hips. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were sweet on Paulina…either that or a hopeless flirt.” She mumbled, “Which is more than likely the case.”
“Nah. I’m just half seas over, ma’am. Celebrating with the boys. The eating’s good tonight. The drink’s not bad either.” He glanced at me. “Or the company.” He continued to stare, his attention steady. He’d never been this playful, and I adored the attention.
“Well, as much as I hate to break up this little tête-à-tête, but I need Paulina’s help with supper, if you don’t mind. You can socialize later.”
“Surely. I’m sorry about that. Didn’t mean to interrupt.” He tipped his hat. “Evenin’ ma’am.”
“Good evening, Samuel.” He seemed reluctant to leave, his gaze lingering on my face. “I’d best help Mary.” I brushed by him, feeling a heady buzz from the interaction and hating that we had been interrupted.
When Samuel was out of earshot, Mary murmured, “That man is smitten with you.”
“He is?”
“Oh, certainly.” She produced a heavy-looking skillet, placing it over the fire. “I must say, you could do worse. He clearly wants to improve himself or why else would he be out here? He’s made the trip five times now. That’s a testament to either stubbornness or endurance. I’m thinking the latter might apply best. Either that or he’s plain crazy.”
“It’s a combination of all three.”
“Surely,” she laughed. “I can’t wait to eat fresh chicken. I’ll need the molasses for the skillet bread.”
I helped her with dinner, while the observations she had made swirled around inside my head, teasing me with the possibility that perhaps Mr. Tucker and I might have a future together, although it was a bit far-fetched. He was on his way to California, and I would go no further than Denver City, but…he would return east at some point. Maybe I would see him again?
We ate like kings that night, listening to music, while children scampered about and the miners drank. I didn’t see Samuel or Mr. Carter again, although, in the morning, I glimpsed Quincy leaving a tent that did not belong to him. I’d gotten up early with a bad belly, feeling as if I would be sick. He had been inside Clara Goldman’s tent! I had caught him in a compromising position, although he hadn’t seen me. Mrs. Goldman’s husband had been absent, joining a hunting party, and he wasn’t due to return until later in the morning. My illusions of Mr. Carter had just been shattered.
Once we had taken a seat in the wagon, Abner encouraged the oxen forward; the other wagons had already formed a long line. It was a shame to leave Fort Kearny, as I had enjoyed the merriment of the night before, although something I had eaten had not agreed with me. I refrained from being ill, but my stomach hurt all the same. Poor Abner had suffered from bowel troubles most of the journey, his constipation sometimes leaving him horribly bloated. There were others in similar conditions, with complaints of fever, nausea and diarrhea, but they had to make due the best they could.
We plodded on, crossing a bridge, the road winding around the base of a mountain, the wind bringing up dust, which seemed to coat everything in a layer of filth. Two days later, it became so bad, that I was forced to wear a bandana around my face, as dust swirled over our heads, the wheels lifting it from the ground. Samuel and the others on horseback road with their faces covered. The children were the worse off, as they were closer to the ground, where the dirt seemed to be almost knee-deep in places. Only their eyes were visible, as filth hid their skin.
“Oh, the saints have forsaken us,” grumbled Mary. “How much longer must we go on like this?” She sat further inside the wagon, desperately trying to shield herself from the air.
“I don’t know. It’s awful,” I agreed.
Anything that had once been white was gray or brown now. The canvas on the wagons had deepened to a brownish shade, some appearing as dark as the charcoal from the fire. There was filth inside my nose, in my ears, and within my clothing, itching my skin. The heat wasn’t helpful in the least, the perspiration mixing with the dust, adding to the prickly discomfort I was already suffering. Nothing was spared from the filth, not even our bedding, which was coated as well. I slept with dirt beneath my head, as I could not clean my pillow enough.
After another day of this, we found ourselves at Barrel Spring, a watering hole that sported an abundance of clean water. I’d not remembered ever being this eager, this happy, at the sight of the water, knowing that I would fling myself into it at the first opportunity. Once the wagon had been secured for the night and the tents made, Mary and I wandered down through the brambles and rocks, finding an area that had not been used yet by bathers. I would wear my shift; although once wet, it would be entirely transparent. Wanting desperately to be clean, I threw caution to the wind, not caring about the dictates of propriety. I would hardly be naked, and my chaperone was with me.
“Oh, praise be!” Mary lowered herself into the water, submerging her head.
“I can’t wait to do that.” I pulled my stocking off, exposing blistered feet. I cleaned them at night and applied a healing balm, but my shoes had been responsible for the sores, that and walking for miles each day. Stepping into the water, I felt a sandy bottom. “Oh, yes.” I joined Mary, submerging completely; the feeling was divine. Not a moment later, I began to scrub my scalp, finally being able to clean myself thoroughly.
Splashing indicated that others had entered, although they were some distance away. A woman stood on the edge, having walked down the embankment. “Oh, I’m doing that.” She left a moment later, presumably to get her things.
I soaped thoroughly, cleaning areas that had not touched water for weeks. Mary floated on her back, looking peaceful.
“This is heaven.”
“It is.” I was determined to stay submerged for as long as possible.
The other woman joined us a moment later, carrying a towel and a bar of soap. �
��I can’t tell you how wonderful that looks.”
“It’s heavenly,” I said.
When I had finished bathing, I climbed from the spring, wringing out my hair, while eyeing Mary and the stranger, who had begun to lather her hair. It felt marvelous to be clean, the wet shift clinging to every curve of my body, although I had lost quite a bit of weight. How I longed to wash my clothes, and I would do so later, after I’d eaten supper.
Movement caught my attention, as something stirred within the bushes. A man appeared then, his hat hiding his eyes, but I knew who it was. I stared at Samuel, not quite believing he had come upon me in this manner, his gaze skimming over me, missing nothing.
“Sir!”
“You’re a sight for sore eyes.” His grin revealed interest and appreciation. “Sorry to disturb.”
I had crossed my arms over my chest, my throat having constricted. I didn’t know what to say, but I’d be a liar if I denied that I wasn’t flattered at having been caught like this. Out of all the men in the camp, his attention was the only one I craved. With one last look, he disappeared into the bushes. The women in the water had been oblivious to the fact that we had been seen.
Chapter Six
Several days’ worth of rain seemed to dampen more than just our bedrolls. The clouds lingered, sometimes releasing drizzle and, at other times, a downpour. On the fourth day of living in perpetually damp clothing, we had all had enough, and Helen, especially, sat glumly on her wagon, staring at nothing in particular.
“How are you?” I’d been walking for the better part of an hour, my bonnet dripping with wetness.
“I’m not good, Paulina.”
“No one is.”
She held the reins, while her husband rode on a horse. He glanced at us, his face a mask of unhappiness. “I’ll let you talk.” Encouraging his horse forward, he trotted on ahead.
While the wagon moved, I grasped the edge of the seat, hauling myself up. I’d grown quiet adept at this maneuver, only falling once. I’d nearly been run over by the front wheel, which would have been catastrophic.
I sat beneath the protection of the canvas. “It’s a hardship for everyone.”
“I’m beyond that, Paulina.”
I touched her back, rubbing it gently. “You’re doing so well. The baby’s growing, and she’s sleeping better.” I glanced into the wagon, seeing Laura snuggled up with a blanket. “Did you have a quarrel with Jason?”
“I refuse to speak to him.”
“Why? I know it’s none of my business. I’m sorry I’m prying.”
“I’m beyond caring about any of it.” We were silent for a moment; only the sound of the wheels turning and the harnesses jangling filled the void. Then she said, “Jason wanted to live somewhere less settled-up. He hated how the politicians would come around, sending out the tax collector. He was tired of having everybody in his business. We came out west to get away from all of that.”
“A lot of folks feel the same.”
“But I can’t imagine it’s worth it. I look around, and all I see is grass and dust. How can this be the promised land?”
“We haven’t gotten there yet.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to do this anymore. I can’t sit here day after day watching the back of a wagon.” Her hands covered her face. “I want to go home. I don’t care about the stupid taxes.”
“You’re just road weary. It’ll pass.”
“I’m pregnant again.”
“What?” I hadn’t been expecting that.
“I’m with child.” The tone in her voice betrayed the fact that she found this condition less than appealing.
“I’m happy for you. Congratulations.”
“This isn’t something to celebrate. Having Laura nearly killed me. I was so sick in the beginning, and then I nearly bled to death when I was in labor.”
“You’ll be in Oregon long before the baby comes.”
“Don’t you understand? I’ll be going through the mountains in this condition.” She wiped away tears. “I didn’t want another baby so soon. I can barely take care of the one I have now.”
“You could always wait in Denver City until it’s born.”
“Jason won’t let us stop. We’re to keep going until we reach Oregon.”
“Is that why you’re mad at him?”
“I’m mad because he put me in this condition!” she declared hotly. “I told him I didn’t want relations, but he insisted on taking them. He’s squarely to blame for this.”
“Maybe this pregnancy will be easier? Maybe the mountains won’t be so bad. You have to have more faith, Helen. If you’re meant to have this baby, then you will. Laura would love a little brother or sister.”
“Not now,” she grated. “Now’s the worst possible time for this.”
“If there’s anything I can do for you, please let me know. I’d be happy to watch Laura when she wakes.”
“This was hard enough. It’s like when you’re down, that’s when it really gets bad. Being cold and wet’s not enough. I have to be cold, wet, tired, and pregnant.”
“There’s a woman a few wagons up who’s pregnant. She’s far along too. I suspect she’s going into labor any day now.”
“That was something I was trying to avoid.”
“I’d love to have a baby. I can’t wait to get married. I want a little girl and a little boy and then maybe one or two more, just in case.”
“Wait till you have the first. You won’t be singing for joy when you’re in labor. Those stars in your eyes will dull soon enough. Then when you’re up all night for weeks on end, walking around like a dead person during the day, it won’t be all that much fun.”
Speaking with Helen had explained a few things. I had sensed trouble was brewing between her and Jason, and now I knew why. Laura had exhausted her, and now she had another baby on the way. This gave me quite a bit to think about, as the day progressed and the rain began to lessen. By the time we had stopped for the night, a low bank of clouds lingered, threatening rain, but it had ceased. Enjoying our first night in days without the wetness, campfires were lit, as wood that had been bundled in wagons was thrown onto burning embers. The smell of roasting meat had my mouth watering, my belly demanding to be fed.
Someone nearby shouted, “By mighty! I found it. I found my fiddle. It was buried in the back of the wagon.”
“Play something joyful!”
“Thank God. If I had to listen to that violin one more night, I would’ve dug my own grave and jumped in.” This was met with laughter.
The refrains of “The Old Gray Mare, She Ain’t What She Used To Be” filled the air, adding to the sense of celebration. Mary began to sing along, while preparing supper, as Abner tended to the animals. She seared cut buffalo, rendered in fat, while adding flour to the drippings after the meat had been cooked. A cup of milk and salt to taste produced brown gravy, which we dunked fried cakes into.
Abner brought out a bottle of wine, pouring the fluid into several cups. He handed one to me. “Thank you.” It was a treat to sip the beverage, my body tingling from the effects of the alcohol.
The music continued to play; the tempo had picked up, while the melody of an Irish jig had people clapping. I sat on a crate, tapping my toe, keeping time with the music. A thick shawl was around my shoulders, because my clothing was still damp, and the material wouldn’t dry until the sun appeared in the morning. It had rained quite thoroughly, the earth a muddy mess; my boots were caked with dirt.
It was right before bed when I heard a commotion, the sound of voices raised in anger. Mary and I were heading for the latrine, wandering through the campsite, as we did every night. Most of the fires had been put out, and the travelers were snug in their tents or in the bed of wagons.
“You’re to stay away from my wife!” yelled a man.
Mary and I were some distance off, standing by several horses, which ate grass, heedless of the brewing storm. I recognized the man who had spoken. He was Clara Goldm
an’s husband.
“I’ve done nothing to warrant this censure!” Quincy Carter had spoken.
“You’ve been sniffin’ around Clara like a bull in heat. I won’t stand for it a moment longer.”
“Stop it, John,” said Clara. “You’re making a scene.”
“Don’t think I don’t know what goes on when I’m out hunting.” He pointed a finger in her face. “You must think me stupid to carry on with him the way you do. I’ve a dozen eyewitnesses that’ll attest to the fact that they’ve seen him leaving our tent more than once.”
“It’s nobody’s business what people do in their tents.” She stood her ground, her bonnet bobbing up and down with her anger. “It’s all a lie anyhow. You’ve no right to be throwing accusations around.”
“The heck I say! You’ve been cavorting with this good for nothin’, spineless rascal. I knew I smelled a rat the first time he came sniffin’ around. I’m ashamed of you, Clara, for making me look like a fool.”
Someone came beside me, and I turned to find Samuel, who looked like he had woken from sleep. His eyes were bleary. “What’s the fuss about?”
“I think there might be trouble.”
He ran fingers through his hair. “Yeah? I say you might be right.”
“This camp is too small for extramarital shenanigans,” said Mary. “That woman’s getting exactly what she deserves for being so…brazen.”
“She wouldn’t be the first who was romanced by the likes of Quincy Carter,” said Samuel. “He comes across aces-high, but we all know he’s swindlin’ people outta more than just money.”
The bitterness in his tone was unexpected. “How do you mean?”
His look hardened. “I forgot how fond you are of the man. My apologies.”
“I’m not fond of him. I’ve spoken to him on occasion, but that doesn’t mean I feel one way or the other about him. It’s a small camp, sir, and we’ve been together for weeks. I’ve probably spoken to everyone by now.”