“We’ve hit the bonanza, boys!” he declared. He looked up and met Trenton’s gaze.
“Where’s Robbie?” Trenton asked, his voice low and tight.
Jerry laughed and poured the sack of gold onto the table. “Burying his old man, for all I know.”
CHAPTER 13
Fort Laramie
MEASLES CLAIMED MANY MORE LIVES IN THE WAGON TRAIN, including two of the Showalter children. Griselda was an unmovable wall of self-composure as they gathered to bury her children.
“Do you suppose she doesn’t care?” Dianne whispered to Zane as they joined others for the funeral. “I haven’t seen her shed a single tear.”
“Everybody grieves differently. She’s probably in a state of shock,” her brother replied.
“Mama sure didn’t act like that and she had more reason to be shocked than Mrs. Showalter.” Dianne watched as Griselda ordered her weepy husband and children to sit and be silent. The woman’s attitude was almost disturbing. She was a rotund general with her little army— barking orders, frowning her displeasure.
Zane leaned over closer. “Mama sought her solace in a bottle of laudanum. Mrs. Showalter seems to find hers in running things.”
As if to offer further proof, the large woman grabbed hold of Reverend Hammond and seemed to be instructing him on something— probably how she expected the eulogy to be delivered. Dianne thought it all very strange.
The funeral was a sad state of affairs, and Dianne would be glad when it was over and she could escape back to their camp. The Showalter children weren’t the only ones to die, although they were among the youngest. Little Brian was only four and Laurabelle was only five. The growing number of mourners put a heavy spirit of despair on the camp. Every day the travelers gathered to bury someone. Dianne figured that with today’s count, the number of dead had reached at least fifty, and folks continued to get sick.
Even Daniel Keefer had contracted some form of summer complaint. He stayed in his bed for more than a week before the weakness finally passed. Someone thought he was afflicted with the ague, others said it was nothing more than a cold. Either way, it changed his plans for a quick departure.
Dianne was actually glad for the delay. The area around the fort was pleasant and the summer weather was enjoyable. And, in spite of the rampant sickness, she felt safe here. Safe from the Indians and safe from the dangers of the trail. She almost wished they could stay here forever instead of pressing into the vast unknown.
Reverend Hammond and his wife had their hands full with tending to the sick. Even Levi worked faithfully at their side, leaving him little time to visit Dianne. The Hammonds were a great comfort to those whose loved ones were suffering. The pastor would pray with people and encourage them, while Charity tended them with her nursing skills and tender love. Even Daniel Keefer benefited from their ministerings and asked the reverend to conduct a regular Sunday service for the entire wagon train.
Dianne wasn’t sure what to think of the frontier style of worship. It wasn’t like the quiet, reverent worship of their church back in New Madrid. Here on the plains, the need and enthusiasm of the pioneers gave church a spirit of anticipation. They sang hymns and prayed with great gusto, and some even offered up comments about how God had seen them through. After this was concluded and everyone ran out of things to share, Reverend Hammond would step up onto the back of a wagon and open his large black Bible.
Now Betsy snuggled close to Dianne, yawning in indifference. Dianne had no doubt Betsy would rather be off running in the fields or playing with puppies.
“The good Lord has a plan for your life,” the pastor began. “He sees His people in their suffering, just as we are now. Some of you are mourning the loss of loved ones. Some of you are sick and feel too poorly to go on. Some of you are just discouraged and want to head back where you came from.”
Dianne definitely knew those who felt that way. She’d heard them grumbling for the last few days, and it was more than the routine complaints. Many of her fellow travelers were losing hope—losing sight of the goal. Hopelessness spread over the camp. Hopelessness that was fed on the worries and fears of the travelers.
“The good Lord has a plan for your life,” Reverend Hammond again reiterated. “Some of you don’t think much of the trip so far—you even doubt that God cares. I’m here today to tell you that He does and that He hears the cries of His people.”
Dianne wished He’d hear her cries. Her fears weren’t based on the measles or the Indians or any other concern of the trail. No, she was afraid of what was happening to her mother’s mind and body. One minute her mother seemed perfectly normal and the next confusion overwhelmed her. Sometimes she forgot that Ardith was dead, like the night of the Independence Day celebration. Other times, she knew only too well and cried and sobbed, begging for more laudanum. The bottle supplied by the doctor had long since been used. Morgan and Zane had discussed the possibility of breaking into the case they’d brought. After all, what could it hurt to give her another bottle and ease her pain for a little longer?
Dianne thought it a bad idea, however. They’d already sold a portion of the laudanum to the fort doctor and also to some of the folks on the train. At this rate, they wouldn’t have much of anything left should one of their own party get hurt or sick. Their mother might be grieving and wish to escape from the truth of what had happened, but was that truly the best way to handle the situation? Laudanum was dangerous medicine. Dianne had heard the doctor’s warning as he instructed Charity in her care of the sick.
“Laudanum can be a tremendous benefit, but too much can also kill,” he had told Mrs. Hammond.
How much is too much? Dianne couldn’t help but wonder. After all, their mother had used an entire bottle. Would their mother now die from having taken so much of the medicine? Why hadn’t he been more specific? Dianne grew more fretful as she watched her mother’s health deteriorate. What would they do if their mother died? How would the family survive and find Uncle Bram?
The pastor’s voice broke through her thoughts. “I know some of you are tired and discouraged. I know you don’t want to go on. You’re afraid of what’s to come and you’re afraid of what’s behind. But you don’t have to be afraid. Your Father in heaven is watching over you. He has not forgotten you. He wants to offer you shelter from the storm and hope for tomorrow.
“Maybe you’re wondering how you might have that hope.” He opened the Bible and held it up for all to see. “The Good Book says, ‘If thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved.’ ” He closed the Bible and smiled down compassionately. “Coming to the Lord isn’t another difficult task to add on to your already overtaxed lives. Coming to the Lord requires only a confession of your heart. It requires that you believe in something bigger than yourself—that you believe in God and what He has done for you.”
Dianne tuned out the words again. She’d heard such things since she was small. She knew all about God and Jesus, and she didn’t want to hear the same thing over and over again. What she did want was an answer. An answer for what she was supposed to do in order to make things right again. An answer that seemed to elude her.
Later that afternoon, Charity Hammond stopped by to check on Susannah. Dianne and Betsy were seated on the ground beside the wagon when she arrived. Dianne had been showing Betsy how to sew a straight line and the little girl was quite pleased with herself.
“Look, Mrs. Hammond, I can sew!”
“I see that,” the older woman said, lifting up the piece of cloth. “What fine tiny stitches you’ve made.”
“Oh, and you know what else?” Betsy’s animated voice was a song on the air.
Dianne got to her feet and admonished her sister. “Now, don’t be bothering Mrs. Hammond.” No doubt Betsy wanted to tell her something about the puppies or the horses she’d gotten to be with earlier in the day.
“She’s never a bother,” Charity sai
d, leaning down. “Now, what do you want to tell me?”
“When Pastor Hammond was praying, I asked Jesus into my heart,” Betsy said matter-of-factly.
Dianne couldn’t have been more surprised. Betsy hadn’t even mentioned this detail until now. Dianne said nothing but watched as a huge smile spread across Mrs. Hammond’s face.
“Why, that’s wonderful news, Betsy Chadwick. I’m so glad you shared that with me.”
Betsy fairly glowed under Charity’s comments, but Dianne thought the whole thing rather silly. “Betsy, you’re only six years old. What do you know about such matters?” The child’s countenance immediately fell.
“Don’t be getting after her,” Charity admonished gently. She straightened to meet Dianne’s gaze. “Jesus said to let the little children come unto Him. She’s not too young to hear the voice of God in her heart. We’d all do well to listen for Him so intently—and to act on that voice.”
Dianne felt thoroughly chastised. She looked at her little sister and nodded. “If Mrs. Hammond says it’s a good thing, then it is. I’m sorry I scolded you.”
Betsy smiled, appearing to be satisfied with this.
“I’ve come to see if your mama needs anything,” Charity announced. “I hope she’s feeling better.”
“Sometimes she is. She really misses Ardith. But I think a lot of times she forgets that Ardith is gone.”
“That’s probably natural, child. I wouldn’t let it worry you too much. It’s never easy for a mother to lose a child. It’s worse than losing her husband or parents or friends. She’ll get better by and by. Have faith.”
Dianne thought of Mrs. Hammond’s words later that night as she sat near the campfire with Zane and Morgan. “What did you think of the reverend’s sermon today?” she asked her brothers.
“Seemed good enough,” Morgan said, finishing off the last of the dried apple cobbler.
“Sure,” Zane agreed. “He seemed to know the right things to say.”
“Betsy said she asked Jesus into her heart. I was remembering when they made us pray that prayer in Sunday school.”
Zane nodded. “We had that one old teacher who was mean as an old bear. What was her name?”
“Mrs. Cane,” Dianne offered. “She told us we’d feel her wrath before God had a chance to take over if we didn’t get right with the Lord. I just never thought about it until Betsy mentioned it this afternoon. No one forced Betsy to ask Jesus to save her—she just wanted to do it. Mrs. Hammond said that Betsy heard God in her heart.”
Morgan shrugged. “Guess so.”
They fell silent for several moments. Zane finally spoke as he added fuel to the small fire, poking at it with a stick and stirring up the embers. “I’ve been talking with the soldiers. They’ve been telling me about fort life and how they operate out here. I think when we get to Virginia City and we get Ma and you girls settled in with Uncle Bram, I’m going to join up.”
“But why would you do that?” Dianne questioned. She watched Zane for any signs of his playful teasing. Maybe this was nothing more than a joke. “You know how Mama and Papa felt about such matters.
That’s why Mama wanted us to move west. She didn’t want you boys involved in the war.”
“This is different. Out here, the plan is to keep the peace—not make war. More and more settlers are moving through, and after the war, there will be an even greater number of folks. Anyway, my mind’s made up.”
Dianne shook her head and looked to Morgan. “I suppose you’ll join up too? Seems like you twins are always following each other into one thing or another.”
“Not me—not this time,” Morgan replied, getting to his feet. “I’m too independent to be told what to do all the time. I don’t want to be some dressed-up lackey. I’ve already told Zane I don’t think much of soldiering. I’d hate for him to get himself killed by some warring Sioux or Cheyenne, but he doesn’t listen much to me anymore.”
“I’m a God-fearing man and I’m ready to do my duty to God and country. Besides, like the major in the fort told me, it’s better to die on the field of battle as a Christian should die than to die as one careless of his relations to the great hereafter.”
“What nonsense. Why should a Christian have to die on the field of battle?” Dianne protested.
“It says that in the Military Handbook,” Zane offered, as if that explained everything.
“And you believe it—just because some soldier said it’s true?”
“Well, we take the word of pastors as Gospel truth. Why not believe the army might have a good understanding of things as well?”
Morgan shook his head. “I think it’s all nonsense. I don’t plan on trying to die for God or anyone else. I plan to stay alive and enjoy this great world.” Just then a young woman with long blond hair walked by. Dianne had seen her making eyes at Morgan earlier in the day. She smiled over her shoulder and walked on. Morgan grinned and handed Dianne his plate. “And I plan to start right now.” He walked away, hurrying to catch up with the pretty miss.
Dianne thought it rather funny that her very independent brother would want to attach himself to someone of the opposite sex. Did he not realize that a girl like that wouldn’t be looking for a good time as much as she would be for a husband?
Zane yawned. “I’m going to bed. Will you be all right?”
“I’ll be fine,” Dianne murmured, not entirely sure it was the truth. So many questions rose in her mind. She wanted to know the truth of it, but no one seemed to have answers. Her brothers couldn’t even offer her insight into the situation. It seemed strange to Dianne that a six-year-old could be so deeply touched by God. Didn’t God speak only to white-haired old men?
She pondered these things all night long. In restless sleep she even dreamed of such matters. Who was she to say what was right or wrong in how God did business? If He could speak to Betsy, then maybe He could also speak to her. Hadn’t Faith even suggested the same? Thoughts of Faith caused a deep longing for a friend. Her friends back home had one another, but out here, there was no one for Dianne to confide in. She didn’t even have Trenton. Trenton would have understood her worries. He would have had answers.
Before morning light the soldiers in the fort were up and preparing for the day. Dianne couldn’t help but snuggle down deeper in the covers with Betsy. They wouldn’t need to rise for at least another hour. The wagon train wouldn’t be moving out today—that much she was sure of. Daniel Keefer had called a mandatory meeting for the men—probably to announce when they would head out and leave the fort behind. But it wouldn’t be today, so there was no rush to get up.
The night had turned chilly and a misty rain fell, making everything damp and miserable. The days could be quite warm, but as they neared the Rockies, the air had turned drier and the nights cooler. It was much more bearable than summer nights in New Madrid.
Thoughts of the town brought Dianne back to wonder how her friends were doing. Had the war intensified in New Madrid?Were there actual battles raging around them? So many people had suggested the fighting would soon come to Missouri in a major confrontation. Were there battlefields littered with the mortally wounded right there in New Madrid? Would Trenton be among the dead or dying?
Trenton came to mind more times than not. Often she would see something or hear a story and wish she could share it with her brother. When opportunity presented itself, she would write him a letter and share the details there. She’d been working on the same letter for the past three weeks, in fact. She’d had to share news of Ardith’s death and of their mother’s illness. It had taken a long time to figure out a way to put that information on paper without the facts just seeming cold and indifferent.
No matter how difficult, however, she would have to finish the letter today. Dianne figured Mr. Keefer would tell them they were leaving tomorrow—maybe the day after. She wanted to mail the letter before leaving and figured to make one more walk across the river to the sutler’s store before they headed out.
&nb
sp; “Is it time to get up?” Betsy asked, her voice groggy with sleep.
“Just about.”
“When will we be in Virginia?”
Dianne chuckled. “Silly goose, it’s Virginia City. Virginia is a state back East where the war is being fought.”
“I keep forgetting. When will we be there?”
“I hope in another month—maybe less. We have to wait until the wagon train can travel again. I think Mr. Keefer plans for us to leave in a day or two, however.”
Betsy yawned. “I’m glad. I want my puppy, and Mama says I can’t have him until we get to Virginia City.”
“Well, for now,” Dianne said, reluctantly pulling back the covers, “we need to get breakfast. Let me help you with your hair and we’ll get a fire going and start the oatmeal.”
In spite of the night’s misty rain, the morning brought clear skies and warmth. Dianne soon forgot her chill as breakfast was concluded and her brothers headed off for the meeting with Daniel Keefer.
“I need to try to get Mama to eat,” Dianne told Betsy. She dished up the last of the oatmeal. “Can you stay here and play nice?”
“Can’t I have a piece of apple for Dolly? She likes it so much when I feed her apple.”
“We can go see Dolly later,” Dianne said, pouring a bit of milk in with her mother’s hot cereal. “It’s not safe for you to go alone.”
“Please. She’s not far away and Morgan was going there before the meeting. I can just catch up with him. Please.”
Dianne hated to deny Betsy anything. “Oh, all right. Just take one piece of dried apple. That’s our food supply, you know. Dolly can eat the grass, but we can’t.”
Betsy danced around and clapped her hands. “I’ll just give her one piece.”
Betsy disappeared with the treat for Dolly while Dianne took up the bowl and climbed into the wagon, praying as she went that God might make things better for her mother.
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