Land of My Heart

by Tracie Peterson

  “Mama?” She spoke softly, hoping not to startle her. “I’ve brought you some breakfast.”

  Her mother moaned softly and opened her eyes. “Why are you here?”

  “I have breakfast. You need to eat.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “But, Mama, the baby needs for you to eat.” Dianne worried about the unborn child as much as she did her mother. The excitement of another sibling helped her keep her mind off of losing Ardith.

  The statement seemed to do the trick. Susannah sat up in the bed, yawning and wiping the sleep from her eyes. “I’m too tired to get up.”

  “Mrs. Hammond said you should get up and move around. She said it would help you get your strength back,” Dianne suggested. She handed her mother the bowl of cereal and waited for her to begin eating.

  For several moments, Susannah did nothing but stare at the bowl. “I can’t believe she’s gone. When I think about it, my heart hurts so much that I’m sure I’ll die too.”

  “Oh, Mama,” Dianne said, tears coming to her eyes.

  “It was my fault. If I hadn’t snapped at her …” Her mother pushed the bowl back into Dianne’s hands. “How do I live with the guilt?” She looked at Dianne with such an expression of pain that Dianne burst into tears.

  “It wasn’t your fault, Mama. It was an accident.”

  “Just like with your father?”

  Dianne looked into her mother’s eyes and knew this was as close to an apology as she would get for all the blame her mother had heaped on her. Slowly, Dianne nodded. “Yes. Just like Papa.”

  For several minutes neither one said a word. Dianne dried her tears and composed herself. There was no sense in crying every time she remembered their losses. It served no purpose. She told herself this over and over, but for reasons beyond her understanding, her heart failed to listen to her. Maybe that’s why she couldn’t hear God either. Her heart had simply stopped listening to anyone.

  “It’s such a hard life out here. People die and get hurt. We should never have come. I should have stayed in Missouri. I should have kept the store.” Susannah fell silent, her gaze glassing over.

  Dianne stiffened. She hoped this wouldn’t become something else her mother might blame her for. “Please eat, Mama. For the baby.”

  “Leave it here and go. I want to be alone.” Gone was all sign of any softening or vulnerability. Her mother had firmly put her defenses back in place.

  Dianne left the wagon wishing she could say something more. It was amazing that her mother had offered her what little she had. It comforted Dianne to know her mother didn’t blame her anymore for Papa’s death. Now, if Dianne could only forgive herself.

  Dianne spent the morning washing dishes and tidying up their camp. She put together a dried beef stew and left it to cook in the Dutch oven while she went to work mending the boys’ socks. It wasn’t until an hour later that she realized Betsy had never returned from feeding Dolly.

  A feeling of dread washed over Dianne as she cast the sewing aside. “Betsy!” she called out. Rushing to where the boys had staked Dolly and their other horses, she found no sign of Betsy. Dianne breathed a little easier. Maybe she had gone to see one of her friends. Betsy knew she wasn’t supposed to go anywhere without permission, but maybe she’d forgotten in the excitement of feeding Dolly.

  Dianne made her way back to camp, passing by their oxen and milk cows. Of late, Zane and Morgan had been helping her with the morning milking, leaving the evening session for Dianne to tend to on her own. She appreciated their help more than she could say. It allowed her to get a bit of extra rest before beginning the breakfast and other chores.

  Up ahead, Charity Hammond waved and Dianne couldn’t help but smile. “The meeting broke up a few minutes ago. We leave day after tomorrow.” Charity seemed quite excited about this news. “So what has you out here, child?”

  “I’m looking for my sister. Have you seen her?”

  Charity frowned and shook her head. “She knows better than to wander off, doesn’t she?”

  Dianne nodded, but the look on Charity’s face brought all her apprehensive feelings rushing back. “I’m not sure where else to look. I thought she might have gone to see one of her friends. What with the measles epidemic, we haven’t let her be around other people for a while. I let her go feed Dolly some apple this morning, hoping it would help ease her boredom.”

  “Well, maybe she’s gone to see the puppies. Mrs. Delbert’s camp is just up the way. Why don’t we walk over there and ask?”

  It seemed like the perfect solution. Dianne knew her sister’s love of the little dogs. No doubt she’d gone there. The two women walked side by side past the herds of camp animals. Two hundred wagons generated a lot of livestock, and the army had required they post them on the far side of camp. No doubt they’d need to push on soon or they’d have to stake the animals out even farther away from safety in order to see them properly fed.

  “Mrs. Delbert!” Charity greeted. “Have you seen young Betsy Chadwick?”

  The rosy-faced woman smiled and slapped a piece of wet laundry over her shoulder. “She was here about a half hour ago. She came to see the pups and then told me she was going to feed one of the horses. My boy Joseph told her he’d go with her and give our mules a treat. The mules are down over that way. They might still be together.”

  “Thank you,” Dianne called as Charity turned in the direction of the animals.

  “Your sister sure loves being with the little creatures. She’ll probably be a good one to have on a ranch.”

  “She does love animals. She always has,” Dianne said, smiling. “She was forever bringing home one stray or another. Mama used to get so vexed with her. At one time we had at least eight cats.”

  Charity laughed. “Well now, cats can be a great benefit. They eat the mice and make great lap warmers.”

  Dianne looked out across the field but could see nothing of Joseph or Betsy. “Where could she have gotten off to?”

  Charity put her hand to her forehead to shield the brilliant sun. “I couldn’t say. Maybe she’s made her way back to your horses.”

  Dianne broke out in a cold sweat. She felt suddenly light-headed. “I’m scared, Charity.” She looked to the older woman. “I think she’s hurt.”

  Dianne rushed across the field to where a string of mules were stationed. She didn’t know if these were the Delberts’ mules or not, but she searched among them for any sign that Betsy had been there. Not finding any clue, she hurried on, checking here and there, still finding no sign of her sister.

  She saw several men down by the river and for a moment she feared Betsy might have strayed too close to the water. But the men were laughing and seemed to be discussing something of great humor. They certainly weren’t concerned about anything.

  By now, Dianne had outdistanced Charity. The older woman had slowed considerably and was now making her way to where the men stood. Maybe she would get their help in searching for Betsy. Dianne welcomed the idea. The more people looking, the sooner they would find her.

  But within a few more steps, Dianne had no need of other searchers. She had found Betsy. The child lay on her side, her eyes open, staring blankly. For just a moment, a very brief moment, Dianne thought her sister was playing a joke.

  “Betsy?” she called sternly, but there was a tremor in her voice.

  The child didn’t move—didn’t so much as blink. That’s when Dianne knew the truth of it. She shook her head and began to scream. Rational thought left her mind. “Help me! Someone help me!” She couldn’t even touch Betsy’s still body.

  The men came running, along with Charity Hammond. Two of the men reached Dianne first. They immediately saw the situation and one of them lifted Betsy into his arms. Blood marked the grass where her head had rested.

  “She’s dead,” someone said.

  Charity came forward and examined the little girl. She looked to Dianne with tears in her eyes. “I’m so sorry. It looks like she’s been k
icked in the side of the head.”

  It was impossible to breathe. Dianne’s entire body began to shake so violently that her knees gave out. Someone took hold of her and lifted her into his arms. Looking up, Dianne met the pained expression of Cole Selby. Moments later, she lost consciousness.

  CHAPTER 14

  CHARITY HAMMOND HELPED DIANNE PREPARE BETSY’S BODY FOR burial. Dianne had initially balked at the idea of washing and dressing a dead body. It seemed almost unnatural … gruesome. Still, it was her sister—her Betsy. A tenderness within Dianne’s heart pushed away all thoughts of the macabre. This is my baby sister—she deserves my loving care, Dianne told herself as she arranged Betsy’s hair.

  Their mother couldn’t even comprehend the situation. Reverend Hammond had come to give her the news while Charity had cared for a hysterical Dianne. The life Dianne thought could surely get no worse had suddenly gone completely mad.

  “Why did this happen?” she asked, glancing up from the bow she tied around Betsy’s pigtail. “Why didn’t that mule kick Joseph instead of Betsy?”

  “Child, death and dying are a mystery to us all. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.”

  Dianne stiffened. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  Charity smiled in a sympathetic manner. “It means that all of life is in the hands of God. The things He allows to happen are often beyond our comprehension. Still, we have to allow that He knows what He’s doing and that there is a purpose in it. We have to bless His name in spite of our pain.”

  “That makes no sense,” Dianne replied. She looked at Betsy, now dressed and prepared for burial. She looked unnaturally pale but otherwise seemed only to sleep. “How can I bless His name for this?”

  “Oh, child, your grief is fierce—your pain overwhelming—but God understands that. He knows how you feel. He loves you, and He wants to share your burden.”

  “He gave me this burden,” Dianne said angrily. “I don’t see anything loving about that. He could have helped in this. He could have made Betsy feel the need to come home when little Joseph left her. He could have allowed Joseph to be there when the accident happened so that he could have come and got me. We might have saved her. God could have done so much, but He didn’t.”

  Charity’s expression irritated Dianne. She seemed to be at complete peace with everything. With Dianne’s anger—even with Betsy lying dead before them—Charity could bless the name of the Lord.

  Coming around the makeshift table, Charity put her arm around Dianne’s shoulders. “Being mad at God won’t change matters. It’ll only make you feel worse. Then not only will you be mourning the loss of your sisters, you’ll mourn the loss of His comfort. And, Dianne, the comfort you need in the wake of these tragedies is found only in Him. No person can offer it. Nothing can provide it.”

  “He seems so cruel,” Dianne murmured. “How can I turn to Him for comfort when He seems to be the very source of my pain?”

  Charity hugged her close. “It’s that pain that is keeping you from seeing things clearly. I want you to think for just a minute.” She pulled away and drew Dianne to face her. “You talked of the love you held for your father. You told me how much he loved you and how special he always made you feel.” Dianne nodded but said nothing.

  “Still, you told me about other times in your life when problems came. Didn’t you tell me that you got hurt when you fell on the ice at Christmas one year?”

  “Yes, but what does that have to do with this?”

  “Did your father still love you even though you got hurt?”

  “Of course he still loved me—he might even have loved me more.” Dianne suddenly realized what Charity was trying to say. “My father had no control over the ice. He couldn’t keep me from falling. But God could have stopped this. He could have prevented Ardith from drowning. He could have kept Betsy from being kicked.”

  Charity nodded. “Yes. Yes, He had the power to do that.”

  “But He didn’t,” Dianne stated, as though Charity might have forgotten.

  “No, He didn’t.” She reached up and gently touched Dianne’s cheek. “And you have todecide for yourself what you will do with that knowledge.”

  Dianne pondered those words long after the funeral and into the following days when they were once again on the trail headed west. She walked alongside the oxen team, keeping them in line and contemplating all that Charity had said. Faith would no doubt have said something similar. Her ability to accept God’s will and ways were a marvel to Dianne. But how did these women live with the horrors of life—the frailty of the human body and mind—and continue to bless the name of the Lord?

  Still the days wore on with no real answers. The wagon train had been reduced by nearly seventy wagons. The train Daniel Keefer had said was two weeks behind them had shown up at the fort on the day they were to cross the river and head west. A man named John Bozeman was leading a train north through Sioux Indian country, and many of Keefer’s people chose to leave Daniel’s company and head north with Bozeman.

  Morgan and Zane had discussed the situation with Dianne and had concluded that they were better off to stay with Mr. Keefer. When Cole Selby came by to find out if they would move out with the Keefer train or head north with the Bozeman party, Dianne had listened as her brothers confirmed they would stay.

  “It’s probably for the best,” Cole had told them. “The Indians up north are not friendly to the wagons crossing their territory. Bozeman will be lucky if he doesn’t get the entire party killed.”

  “What about our party?” Dianne had asked.

  Cole had met her gaze with an expression that softened the hard edges of Dianne’s heart. “We could still run into some hostiles, but Mr. Keefer feels the biggest dangers are behind us. He has friends among the tribes to the west. Hopefully that will keep us from trouble.”

  Now, walking with the oxen, passing by a fresh grave with a crude board marker, Dianne couldn’t help but wonder if Mr. Selby’s words would be true. Were the dangers really behind them? People were still dying periodically. A stillborn baby had been delivered only two nights ago. Death was their constant companion.

  Dianne looked to the cloudless sky and then to the trail. The air was thick with dirt. She had long learned to wear a scarf around her mouth and nose and to pull her sunbonnet down tight against the dust, but today it seemed to offer little help. She coughed violently and slowed the oxen so that she could put a little more distance between her wagon and Zane’s.

  Would this journey ever end? Discouraged by the endlessness of it all, Dianne could well understand her mother’s desire to do nothing but sleep. Dianne longed for it herself. The adventure had lost its attraction. She’d heard tales of people who went mad in the wilderness. She feared her mother might well be one of their number … but then again, perhaps Dianne would be too. The thought startled her. Was it possible she was losing her grip on reality—on life?

  “I don’t want to lose my mind.” The very thought firmed up her resolve. I have to be strong. Mama needs me to be strong. The baby needs me to be strong.

  “How are you holding up?”

  Dianne startled out of her thoughts and met Cole Selby’s gaze. He rode his horse at a slow, steady walk to keep even with her. “I guess I’m doing as best I can.”

  Cole nodded. “You’ve had to bear more than most.”

  Dianne noted sympathy in his words. Maybe Mr. Selby wasn’t such a bad fellow after all. Maybe her pride had been the problem from the beginning. Now after losing so much, Dianne felt she had no pride left.

  “I appreciate all that you’ve done for us. I guess I should have never encouraged my family to come west. If I hadn’t, maybe my sisters would be alive now.” She shook her head and pulled the handkerchief from her face. After wiping her brow, she shook the cloth in hopes of clearing some of the dust.

  “Sometimes things happen,” Cole replied, “things that we wish we could take back or keep from happening.” He l
ooked ahead down the trail, and Dianne got the distinct impression that he knew exactly what she was feeling.

  “Well,” Cole said, shaking off his contemplation, “we’ll be stopping pretty soon for the nooning. Be sure to get the animals well watered. There’ll be less water as we head out this afternoon.”

  Dianne nodded and repositioned her handkerchief as Cole rode away. He was such a complicated man, appearing to be helpful and knowledgeable but at the same time distant and aloof. Surely there was much more to him than met the eye.

  The nooning offered little relief. The heat of the day bore down on them and with little in the way of shade, they were forced to endure the sun’s punishment. Dianne’s misery was further increased by Griselda Showalter’s sudden appearance.

  “I’ve come to see your mother,” she announced.

  “Mama hasn’t been receiving visitors—” Dianne began to explain.

  Griselda quickly interrupted her. “Never mind that. She’ll be glad to see me.”

  “Well … I don’t know… .”

  “Child, you know nothing of a mother’s grief. She needs another woman to bare her soul to. Now stop fretting and help me into the back of the wagon.”

  Dianne studied the determined look of Mrs. Showalter and decided to do as she’d instructed. The last thing Dianne wanted was to have an argument with the woman. She’d seen firsthand how Mrs. Showalter treated her children.

  Half pushing, half supporting, Dianne helped Griselda up through the canvas entryway. Immediately the older woman began talking to Dianne’s mother. Maybe she was right. Maybe her mother needed the comfort and shoulder of another woman who’d suffered the loss of a child.

  When the nooning was nearly over, Dianne went to retrieve Griselda. She opened the back of the wagon just in time to see Griselda help Susannah take a long drink of something in a bottle.

  “What are you doing? What are you giving her?”

  Griselda put a cork in the bottle and helped Susannah lie back down before turning to Dianne. “I’m simply helping her deal with her grief. Be off. I’ll see myself out.”