Uncivilized

by Laura Stapleton

  “I mean, you could, yes, but not all of us could. He didn’t rescue us.” Jenny laughed. “He couldn’t carry all of us back here on his horse.”

  “No, I suppose not.” She glanced over at Jenny’s washing, hoping the other girl finished up and left soon. The woman needed a change of subject before truly angering Ellen with her prejudice. “Enough about my drama. How about your family? How is everyone?”

  Her friend began a monologue that lasted until Ellen’s last dish was clean and nearly dry, yet she didn’t interrupt Jenny for fear of another rant against Del and his people. She just couldn’t bear hearing another bad thing said about him right now. When Jenny made a comment about seeing her later, Ellen nodded and said something appropriate. She waved and took the long way back to camp only to find everyone still awake. The two adults talked, heads close together, while the boys played with rocks like they were toy soldiers.

  Bedrolls had already been laid out despite the early hour. They’d been going into the late afternoon for so long, she’d forgotten what it was like to bed down before twilight. The waning day gave her enough light to write in the journal without squinting and maybe enough time to sew Del’s pocket onto her dress. She climbed into the wagon and put away the dishes before retrieving the little book and a threaded needle. Back on solid ground, Ellen sat on her bedroll, giving a nod to Skeeter for setting it out for her. He returned her smile and she settled in. She made quick work of sewing on the pocket before starting to write the day’s events.

  “You better put in how I scared away that redskin.”

  She glanced up at Pa. “I will.”

  “It’s the best part of this whole mess so far.”

  “Of course.” She gave him a wan smile before finding the last page. Counting the dates on her fingers, Ellen wrote the date and stopped. How to write down losing your heart and soul without specifically saying such a thing? She shook her head, deciding to transcribe the events in anyone else’s point of view but her own or her father’s. Pa wouldn’t get his heroic tale of running off an Indian.

  “You done yet?”

  She noted with a start that he was reading over her shoulder. “Almost.”

  His lips moved as he read the words until at last he straightened with a scowl. “I don’t like it. You’re not telling how I scared him off.”

  “No.” Temper rose in her and she gripped the pencil hard. She’d transcribed the facts to the best of her ability and didn’t like him second-guessing her. Before Ellen could rethink her words, she blurted, “You didn’t scare Mr. Du Boise off so much as just scare him. I think Mr. Granville had to tell him to go.”

  “Huh. Well, he wouldn’t have left if I’d not shot him.”

  Remembering the pain in Del’s eyes before they parted fueled her anger. She had to admit Pa was correct. “You’re right. It took your prank to do it.”

  “Ha! Wouldn’t have been a prank if my powder hadn’t gotten dunked in the Green that day.”

  “Ah, that day Mr. Du Boise saved me and the boys from drowning? That day, specifically?”

  “Yeah, that’s the one.”

  Lacy clung to Pa’s arm. “Jack! You didn’t say anything to me about this. Ellen, you must tell me what happened.”

  With a look at Pa first, and seeing his nod, she gave him the journal to inspect. “Our wagon tipped over in the Green River and washed everyone overboard. Pa had the top down that day, or I suppose we’d have been trapped and drown.”

  “Thank Providence he’d removed it!”

  Jack looked up from the journal. “Yes, and I do thank God every day.”

  “Then, the boys and I were swept away until Del, I mean, Mr. Du Boise and Mr. Granville saved us.”

  “How romantic! He rescued you three then brought you back from being kidnapped? Jack, how could you not like the man? He’s saved your daughter’s life twice and your sons’ once.”

  “I hate him and his people for killing Lucy.”

  “He killed her?”

  “Not directly, no.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, he’s half French but he’s also half red. You know what that means. We can’t trust those animals as far as we can throw them.” Pa stood, tossing the journal back at Ellen. “Fill in those days you were too lazy to write down, and we’re done talking about that red bastard, done.”

  She recognized the signs of an impending temper tantrum and stayed quiet. A glance at the boys told her they were already asleep. She soon had the journal updated as Pa had demanded. With her movements slow and deliberate, she slid down into her covers for the night.

  The next morning, Ellen caught herself searching for Del out of habit. Each time she remembered he was gone hurt a little more than the time before. The cold metal pail handle dug into her hand as she went for water. Everyone she saw looked the same, chilled through and miserable. Only once beside the campfire did she look at the clear sky as it brightened overhead. No clouds reflected the brilliance of dawn and she shivered.

  Pa slurped his coffee and nodded at Lacy. “Ellen, you’d better watch Mrs. Benson fix breakfast. See how she makes the best biscuits this side of the Mississippi.”

  “Oh, pshaw, Jack. It’s just a little cornmeal and sugar added to the mix. Helps make it taste a little different is all.”

  Buster woke up and crawled into Ellen’s lap. She lifted her coffee out of his way and quietly asked, “Do you need to potty?” He shook his head, still rubbing his eyes, giving her hope he could go later and not mess himself.

  The coffee sat heavy on her stomach and the cooking smells turned her insides further. Food sounded both good and bad, and she debated on skipping breakfast. Hunger soon won out over nausea as she passed a biscuit to her baby brother and kept one for herself. Pa was right; the cornmeal and sugar added a lot to the usual meal. Ellen smiled when Lacy set aside more for noon. The woman must be feeling more a part of the family from the way she corralled the boys, having them help Buster with his bathroom tasks. “Ellen, would you mind washing up while your father and I tend to the animals?”

  “I’ll be glad to, ma’am.” She took the cook pan, now cooled, and the coffee pot for cleaning. Again, she searched for Del out of habit, and again, he wasn’t there.

  Before long, the bugle sounded and they rolled on over a hilly stretch of land. She tried to imagine Del and Pomme going this way. How far did the rolling plain stretch to the west, Ellen wondered? Were they through this flat or in another part of the country entirely? She both didn’t want and wanted to think about nothing but him. Taking the handkerchief he’d given her, she unfolded and refolded it before putting it in her new dress pocket. He’d been right. The small token worked like a talisman and reassured her.

  They rolled on for what seemed like forever. The sun shone overhead before casting longer shadows to the east. Mrs. Benson had taken Buster under her wing, helping him with his bathroom breaks and keeping him dry. Ellen questioned her motives in being nice all of a sudden, but didn’t object. She enjoyed the reprieve from her brother’s toilet habits.

  The only creek they crossed had been more of a wide dry bed with patches of mud. Everyone went without a drink. For lunch, her biscuit from breakfast hung in Ellen’s throat. The party rolled on after the meal, not reaching a good creek until near dark. The spring water satisfied everyone. Most people, including Pa and Lacy, decided to stake out the animals and just head to bed.

  Ellen dreamed about Pa shooting Del again, each gunfire sounding oddly like Buster saying “Sis!” She opened her eyes to find her little brother doing just that while shaking her awake. “What, Bus? Do you need to go potty?”

  “Yeah, I needa help.”

  She sat up to see and sure enough, they were alone. A glance over showed the water pail was gone too. No fire burned just yet in the stone circle either Pa or Lacy had made. “All right. You can help me gather firewood and I’ll help you potty.”

  While giving her brother his privacy, she glanced over the sage. It’d been dry enough l
ong enough that she could burn it. The stink of the weed while burning didn’t appeal. She’d rather scavenge from broken down carts along the road. Buster chattered while they walked along the ruts. Wondering what Del was doing at the moment kept her mind more occupied. She stopped every so often to pry apart a broken wheel. Spokes were the perfect size and if old enough, didn’t have splinters. She thought about Del having to build a fire the same way. Unless he rode straight through to his home? She’d have to ask if Sam knew where he lived.

  They soon had enough for a decent fire and Ellen turned them back to camp. She felt a little guilty for not paying attention to Buster’s stories. “Thank you for helping me. You’re such a good boy.”

  “Caleb stupid. I not pottying pants like a baby.”

  “Buster!” She almost started arguing with him. “Bus, is he teasing you and calling you a baby?”

  “Yeah. I not.”

  She stifled a smile over his adorable little pout. “You’re right. Caleb is just having fun. You’re not a baby anymore, I promise.” As soon as she promised, Ellen realized she’d left him no room for mistakes. “Although, you might have accidents. Even big boys have accidents. They won’t tell you so, but they do.”

  “Caleb too?”

  “Even him.”

  “Mr. Granville or Pa?”

  “Oh, goodness, no!” She ruffled his hair. “They’re men, not boys, and once you’re a man, you’re finished with accidents too.” They reached camp as she finished explaining. Ellen so hoped this discussion was over. Next they would be discussing the differences between boys and men, a topic for Pa to address. Not her.

  “Well, look at you!” said Lacy. “Such a young man helping your sister.”

  Buster gave Ellen a worried look, and she knew what he was thinking. “He is a big boy, for sure. Let’s put the wood in here, Bus, and you can go play until breakfast.” She loved the relieved look on his little face before he ran off to find his brother.

  “I love cooking in the mornings when it’s so cold. I hope you don’t mind.” Lacy already had biscuits cooking in bacon grease. “You can wash up after and we can switch chores this evening for dinner.”

  “I’d like that, thank you.” Ellen liked breakfast for the same reason Mrs. Benson did. Most times, evening was still hot enough to make fixing dinner unpleasant. Still, with the other woman to share chores with, she’d suffer through just fine. When the meal was finished and Lacy began plating up the food, everyone arrived as if given a silent signal. Ellen smiled. Maybe the aroma of breakfast was the reason. She sipped her coffee, taking her plate last.

  “So, seems your man done left after all.” Pa settled in to eat. “Granville says he’s gone for good, not skulking around in the bushes. Also said to bring extra water because there’s a long dry day ahead of us.”

  “Yes, Pa.” His reminder of Del’s absence crushed her appetite. She’d not realized how much hope she’d had of him leading or trailing them. Ellen glanced around at her family, glad they were too wrapped up in their meals to be watching her. The food didn’t appeal at all, but she ate anyway, finishing first. Putting her dishes in the wash pail, she set it by her bedroll and climbed in the wagon.

  “Ellen? You’re washing up, aren’t you, dear?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Benson,” she called from inside. “I’m finding a water jar for later.”

  “Very well, I’ll make sure our plates are ready for you.”

  “Thank you.” She hopped down with the biggest canning jar they had. Washing up and getting today’s water meant two trips to the muddy creek. The dishes took up less time to clean than did straining silt from the water. She wasn’t quite done when Lucky played the signal to go. She hurried, getting to the wagon with the jar just before it started rolling.

  They rolled over ten miles of rolling hills. The landscape had a yellow cast from dried grass, broken up by the infernal sage. A stiff wind kept her cool, drying sweat almost before it formed. Buster walked with her, let her carry him, or played with the bigger kids until noon when they all stopped for a lunch and drink from the water jar. Jostling kept the silt stirred up and Ellen hated the grit.

  Another ten miles passed and they rolled on into the evening before they stopped at last. She knew Lacy would rely on her to cook tonight. After the day’s dusty wind, Ellen’s stomach protested. The usual routine of chores after the wagons were circled, the smell of fires started in the cool twilight air, and none of it helped. She’d not seen wood, even discarded or broken, in the last five miles walking.

  She shrugged off her lethargy. Laziness never finished anything, so Ellen grabbed the water pail for something to drink and followed a line of people down a long gully to a river. It flowed faster than some she’d seen in a while. Blue and orange from the last of the sunset reflected from the waves, giving them a target. A few had thought to bring lanterns. She shook her head. They’d run out of kerosene a while back, something she missed in times like this. She followed Mr. Nelson out by staying close to him and his wife as they walked back up the crevice.

  Pa saw her first. “Good! You weren’t sitting around mooning over that man.” He took the water pail from her. “Lacy is waiting for you to start supper. I got a fire going from some of the scrub and she’s wanting tea.”

  Having some of her tasks done for her bolstered Ellen a bit. She stared at the wagon after letting down the tailgate. What could she fix that they’d not eaten a hundred times before? She remembered the fish Del caught and the meat he’d brought them. No wonder Pa hadn’t been hunting. She’d not known until his rotten prank that he’d been anything but indifferent to providing. The recollection of what Pa had done to Del sickened her. Her father deserved his never ending supply of bacon and biscuits. She soon gathered dinner’s ingredients and began cooking.

  Lacy and Pa talked quietly as Ellen wrote in her journal. The boys played a game of Caleb’s and she smiled proudly over how dry Buster had been all day. If she’d had wood and any sort of talent, she’d whittle him a horse. Just no more dolls or pretend little brothers.

  “Dinner’s ready,” she said after poking a biscuit to find it cooked through. They scrambled, hunger making them happy for anything. She settled in on her own blanket. “Would you want to wash up first thing in the morning?”

  “Of course, child. No need in wandering around in the dark. Dawn’ll be here soon enough.”

  “Wonder why Granville is grinding us so hard. Most people’s animals can’t take these twenty mile days.” Pa shook his head and took another bite.

  Lacy patted his arm. “I’ve no complaints, dear. The sooner we get there, the sooner we’re married.”

  “I reckon so.” Pa grinned at her and the boys. “You kids are getting a proper mother. Ellen’s been fine and all, but we needed a real lady who can cook and teach us manners.”

  She smiled at his words, hoping to hide her inner seething. He’d not starved despite his inability to bring food to the table since Lucy’s death. Ellen glanced at Buster and Skeeter. They didn’t seem too upset, though Skeeter didn’t look happy. If it’d been her in their place, she’d be furious at how quickly Pa and Mrs. Benson had replaced their mother. “That sounds lovely, Pa. You’re a lucky man. Mrs. Benson is a catch.”

  “Thank you, darlin’. That’s the first sensible thing you’ve said in a while.”

  His backhanded compliment made her smile, even if she didn’t quite like it. “If you don’t mind, I’m really tired for some reason.”

  “Certainly. I’ll look over your journal while you get some shuteye. Buster, have Caleb or Skeeter take you potty before bed.”

  She noticed her baby brother clung to Skeeter. Poor Skeeter, she thought, settling in and falling asleep.

  Ellen shivered herself awake. The cold air clung to her bones, the chilliest she’d felt since their trip started. She got up to get water for coffee and realized dinner dishes still needed washing. Dishes in the pail rattled a little when she picked it up. They made a little noise with ea
ch step as she crept down the crevasse to the river. Arnold caught up to her with his own bucket and she smiled at him. “Good morning. It’s nice to see you.”

  “Good to see you too, miss. I’ve been out at the back most times, keeping us safe.”

  “And doing a good job at that, sir.”

  “Thank you, miss.”

  She grinned at him as he held out his hand to help her over a rocky place. Ellen had tripped over it last night and liked how Arnold steadied her. “How much more do we have before reaching Oregon City? Does anyone know?”

  “Well, this here’s the John Day and it usually takes a good two weeks after this.”

  She scooped up some water. “That’s not very long at all, Mr. Arnold.”

  “It’s a long while considering the distance, miss. We’ve gone further faster. The Barlow Road just takes a while, more than most people expect. There’s been trouble with the Indians lately and with Mr. Du Boise gone—sorry again, miss—Mr. Granville decided to take the safer route.”

  Somehow, the canyon bathed in golden light from sunrise mirrored the happiness in her heart. “Do you suppose Mr. Du Boise would be safe going the more northern route?”

  Arnold dipped his bucket into the river and stepped aside to let a waiting Mr. Allen get water as well. “I don’t know for sure. I imagine so. Mr. Granville said Do Boise is like a cat, always landing on his feet no matter how far you throw him.”

  Ellen laughed. “I hope so. I’d like to be that way too.” She turned away from the river and its gleaming canyon with a lot of reluctance. “Thank you for telling me about the travel ahead.” She smiled at him as he helped her through the rocky spots again. “I’d not realized we were so close in distance to the finish.”

  “I understand, miss. We’ve been crossing a whole lot of flat in the past several days. Soon enough, you’ll be wishing our road was as flat as now.”