by Jill Maguire
Many of the other men spent the afternoon outside of their corral of wagons looking over the wares that were available for trade from other travelers and some natives. Faith slept most of the day and Patience thought of her often and hoped she was okay.
“Would you like to walk around with me?” Warren asked after their lessons.
“Sure, I would love to,” Patience said brightly. Warren offered Patience his arm and together they ventured beyond the wagons. As Patience had noticed earlier, this outpost was large and bustling with hundreds of people heading west. Most people looked worn out and exhausted, as many of their own company did. There were many crudely built structures positioned around like the buildings of a tiny town.
“What are all these buildings?” Patience asked.
“Well, I’m not exactly sure,” Warren admitted. “Look, there’s Clive. Maybe he’ll show us around.” Clive stood nearby talking with an Indian. Patience had never seen such a person before, she had only heard stories.
The descriptions she had heard of the natives’ appearances proved to be true. This man was regaled with a crown full of feathers and bone made with an array of beautiful colors. His hair hung down long and black on one side of his head and yet was clean shaven on the other side. He wore just enough animal skins to maintain some semblance of decency and Patience felt very uncomfortable in his presence. She held Warren’s arm a little more tightly. As they approached, Clive concluded his conversation with the Indian and turned to greet Warren and Patience.
“Warren, Patience, this is a friend of mine, Hokum. He and his tribe come here often for protection from the more hostile tribes.” Clive addressed his friend and Patience realized that his words were strange, he wasn’t speaking English. Hokum turned to Warren and Patience and smiled and bowed slightly before walking away. Patience stared after him in amazement and then noticed the amusement on Clive’s face.
“Have you never met an Indian, Ma’am?” He ventured to ask. Patience smiled shyly and shook her head. “Well, Hokum is a good one to meet. He has led me through many treacherous lands and saved my life more than once. Not all tribes are as bad as people say. Hokum’s tribe is peaceable and yet neighboring tribes still threaten them on occasion. They often come to the post for protection and to trade with white men.”
“Clive, we were hoping you could show us around the post,” Warren said. Clive nodded and turned to point out the buildings around them.
“This here is the central trade building where they keep supplies. That’s where I got our food. They also receive and send mail from there. In fact, if you have anyone back home to write to, this is the only place to do it before you reach your destination.” Clive glanced at Warren and Patience before continuing. They walked slowly among the crowds while Clive pointed out the other structures.
“That is the hospital,” Clive said, motioning to a crude, low building, the look of which caused Patience to hope she would never have to enter it.
“That is the captain’s house. He lives there and takes in the soldiers who come through, and helps organize supplies and the comings and goings of the wagon trains.”
Patience was amazed yet again by the idea of anyone living out here in the middle of nowhere. Just before they could turn to the next building, a tall, foreboding man marched out of the house and looked around wildly before his eyes landed on Clive.
“Mr. Bandon!” The man barked. “I need to speak with you. It’s urgent!”
Chapter 13
“Well sure, captain.” Clive turned back to Warren and Patience. “Excuse me.” With that he walked to meet the man standing on his porch.
“What do you suppose that is all about?” Patience asked quietly.
“I don’t know Patience, and I think I’d rather not know. Now, shall we continue our tour on our own?” Warren smiled down at Patience who had not relinquished her grasp on his arm. Patience nodded. She was enjoying this lighter, fun side of Warren. A side she had rarely ever seen. They continued to walk slowly along, saying little, just observing the varied swarms of people around them.
Soon they reached the edge of the encampment and stood facing the desolation of a barren land. The plains lay stretched out flat, as far as Patience could see, with very little in the way of vegetation. The land which they had yet to travel looked more forsaken than the land which they had already conquered. At least, Patience thought, there were no more hills in sight.
“Come on, let’s head back. It’s nearing supper time.” Warren carefully led Patience back through the crowds.
“Warren, I think we should send a letter to your mother. I’m sure she would be happy to know we’re safe.”
“You’re right, she would very much like to hear from us.” Warren again grinned down at Patience. She looked up at him with a smile of her own that took his breath away. A strange, warm feeling washed over Warren and suddenly he found the way her hair fell in ringlets around her face irresistible. Warren looked away and cleared his throat. He could not get distracted now. They were more than halfway to Wyoming and at the end of the road Warren would leave Patience with the wealthy rancher. He had to stay focused.
“Warren? I don’t understand. What happened?” Warren was drawn back to the present. He hadn’t realized Patience had been talking to him for some time now.
“What happened?”
“Yes.”
“When? What do you mean what happened?” Patience laughed at his inattention. To Warren it sounded like strained, nervous laughter and he wondered what he had missed.
“Where were you? I lost you for a moment. I was saying that since you didn’t know how to read or write how were you able to respond to the rancher’s advertisement for a mail-order bride? It is something I have wondered about.” Patience fell silent, looking down at her protruding stomach.
“Oh that, yes, I did have to ask someone to help me,” Warren said as his cheeks flamed. Saying it out loud suddenly made him seem like a coward. Not only had he chosen in a moment of blind grief to pawn his sister-in-law off to a stranger, but he hadn’t even had the skills to do it properly himself.
“Who helped you? Not your mother.”
“No, no, not Ma.” He could never have asked his mother for help since he knew she would be dead-set against the idea and would try to stop him. When he did tell her what he had arranged, Ruth hadn’t spoken to him for days.
“Who then, Warren?” Patience persisted.
“Does it matter?” Warren asked feeling very guilty and miserable.
“No, I suppose it doesn’t at this point,” Patience conceded with a sigh.
“Let’s get back and write to Ma,” Warren suggested. They began to walk with purpose toward their corral of wagons. As they went, words for Patience began to formulate in Warren’s heart. Words of remorse and apology. He knew they would have to cross his lips before the end of their journey and he began to pray that God would grant him the courage to carry them from his heart to hers.
Chapter 14
When they reached their own camp again Patience brought out a piece of stationary and a pencil. Together they crafted a letter to Ruth, telling her how they were safe and that the journey had been relatively uneventful. Patience convinced Warren to sign his own name next to hers as a surprise for Ruth.
“She’ll be so happy and proud,” Patience reassured him.
As everyone gathered for supper around the fire that evening, Clive returned looking a little worried and whistled for everyone’s attention.
“I’ve been told that the next stretch of the trail will be very dangerous. There are disputes between the tribes out here and the Indians have been raiding some of the wagon trains.”
Patience’s hand flew to her mouth. She glanced over at Faith who sat across the fire from her. Faith looked tired and simply stared into the flames. Patience determined to talk to her friend later.
“What does this mean for us?” One man asked Clive.
“They are arranging for us to
go with a larger wagon train through the next stretch of the journey. They require no less than fifty wagons per train with the danger so high. This means we have to leave in the morning instead of resting for another day. Pack up as best you can tonight. It will be an early morning.” Clive sat down and dished some dinner for himself. After a silent pause, the flow of private conversations continued.
“I’ll take this letter to the post now. Hopefully someone will be there to take care of it,” Warren explained as he stood with the letter in hand. Patience took the opportunity to approach Faith whose husband was busy packing their things.
“Hello my friend,” Patience said softly as she sat down. Faith looked up at her, eyes riddled with fatigue. “What is it? You aren’t sick are you?” Patience’s face was a mask of concern. Faith’s eyes brimmed with tears and it was as if Patience’s kindness was too much for her. Patience put an arm around her friend’s shoulder and waited. After a moment the words seemed to spring, unhindered from Faith’s lips.
“I think I’m pregnant,” she cried softly. Patience bit her lip in an attempt to rein in the gasp that almost escaped her.
“Well no wonder you’re so tired, my dear.” Patience smoothed Faith’s wild, brown hair. “But isn’t this a good thing? Shouldn’t we be celebrating?”
“I’m just so afraid, Patience. What if I lose this one? I couldn’t bear to lose another baby. I haven’t even told John. I just want to be sure before I get his hopes up again.” Faith released a miserable whimper.
“Faith, may I pray for you?” Patience asked meekly. She couldn’t be sure of Faith’s faith, but she did know that a prayer was just what the young woman needed right now. Faith tensed slightly and looked uncomfortable, but she nodded. Patience squeezed Faith’s shoulder and closed her eyes, releasing words from her heart to her Father for the safety of Faith and her baby.
“Thank you,” Faith whispered when Patience said, “amen.”
“If you ever need anything, please ask, Faith,” Patience said sincerely. She couldn’t remember the last time she had bonded with a friend so intimately. It was life-giving for her.
“I saw you and Warren out and about,” Faith commented, drying her eyes.
“Yes, we walked around. There were so many interesting people. And it made me realize how lucky we have been in our wagon train. We’ve had very safe travels so far, especially compared to some. We’ve had very little illness, no one has been lost or hurt. God is taking care of us.” Patience flashed Faith a bright smile. “Oh, but Faith, what I wouldn’t give for a warm bath!” This declaration produced a cheerful laugh from Faith and Patience smiled at her in satisfaction.
After a sleep that was much too short, they were awakened by the bugle call ringing out over the whole post. Those in Patience’s wagon train were ready quickly as they had taken up Clive’s recommendation of preparing as much as possible the night before. They weren’t used to waiting around for such a large group to pull out together but when the massive wagon train finally left the safety of the post, Clive’s small group took the lead as the captain trusted Clive’s expertise and leadership.
As they started out, Patience felt some apprehension. As of yet, they had been safe from any hostile Indians. Now, she didn’t know what to expect. Warren had positioned their wagon somewhere in the middle of their wagon train, explaining that he wanted men he could trust in front of and behind them. For an hour nothing went amiss, but Patience still felt agitated. Sensing this, Warren suggested that they continue with their lessons. Patience took the reins from Warren and handed him some paper and a pencil.
They filled the next hour with writing and vocalizing different words. Warren was learning quickly which pleased Patience and she felt pride each time she saw him bent over his paper, concentrating on his work. A lock of his thick, black hair fell across his forehead, and was distracting to Patience. She tried to ignore the way it sat along his dark eyebrow and how it framed the silhouette of his face perfectly, but she was drawn to his features like a bee to honey. They continued in peace for some time and Patience began to relax. When Warren turned the paper away from Patience so she couldn’t see what he was writing, her eyes widened in surprise.
“What are you doing?” Patience tugged on his arm but he only pulled the paper closer to himself. A sly grin appeared on his wind-brushed face and Patience raised an eyebrow. When Warren looked up and saw her expression he burst out laughing.
“There Patience, a masterpiece.” Warren held the paper out to show her. He had drawn little pictures depicting each word he had written. This brought charming giggles from Patience’s lips.
“What is that?” Patience asked pointing to a mess of lines.
“That’s a plow, see? P-L-O-W, plow,” Warren beamed, obviously proud of his work of art. Patience laughed again.
“I don’t know of an animal that would want to pull that plow,” she teased.
“Well, I think -” But Warren’s words were cut off by a blood-curdling cry. Warren instantly tensed and whipped around to see a band of Indians approaching on horses. In a moment Clive could be seen galloping up and down in front of their wagon train, gun in hand. Other men joined Clive on their horses and immediately Warren reached behind the bench and pulled out his own gun. Patience was shaking, but held the reins firmly, keeping their team at a steady pace. Warren stood to a crouched position to get a better view.
Peering around him Patience saw Clive, his gun raised, yelling something at the Indians that she didn’t understand. From down the line Patience another scream, a woman’s scream and she prayed it wasn’t Faith.
Chapter 15
Clutching at the reins, Patience willed herself to stay focused on the wagon ahead of her, to keep up the pace and not fall behind. She could hear Clive yelling again and felt her whole body tremble with fear.
Suddenly, the pounding sound of hooves stopped and Patience chanced a look around Warren to see that the Indians had come to a halt and were slowly retreating. The leader yelled something at Clive and even though Patience didn’t understand it through the language barrier, she knew it sounded threatening. Then he turned his horse around and galloped away. Clive immediately turned back to the wagons and signaled for the wagon drivers to keep on and headed fast toward the front of the train. Warren slowly sat down and cautiously returned his gun to its hiding place.
“What about the woman who screamed? What happened? Is she okay?” Patience asked, concern etching her brow.
“I’m sure she’s fine. I don’t think the Indians got that close to the wagons. She was probably just frightened.” Warren looked over at Patience and realized that she was shaking. Seeing her so upset jarred Warren’s heart more than the ambush had.
“Are you alright?” he asked. Patience surely wasn’t fine, but she gave him a smile.
“Yes, I’m fine. Just a little shaken, that’s all.”
Without thinking, Warren reached over and took Patience’s hand and squeezed. Her hand felt so small and soft in his own and a strange feeling washed over Warren. He had never shown affection to any woman and now he found himself becoming endeared toward Patience. After a few moments of clasping hands, Patience pulled her hand away.
“I’m sorry, Patience, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“No, it’s fine.” Patience was trying to calm her own quickly-beating heart. These sensations were somewhat familiar to Patience, she had felt the lightheadedness at Clayton’s touch before, but this time it had a different quality. Patience was a little older and her soul had experienced the cold fingers of death. The affection she was beginning to feel for Warren felt richer, more whole. But Patience knew these thoughts and the stirrings in her heart must come to a standstill. There wasn’t much trail left ahead of them and at the end of it Warren would leave her to navigate her new life in Wyoming.
“So, do you know much about this rancher?” Patience broached the subject for the first time since they left home. She decided she should start look
ing forward to what lie ahead. Warren was quiet for a while. The question left him feeling oddly empty and disappointed. He didn’t want to talk about the rancher with Patience, but he understood it was probably important to her.
“I don’t know much about him. He has a large ranch in Wyoming and has done well for himself. When his advertisement was read to me I thought it sounded like a good match for you. Someone who could provide whatever you needed,” Warren explained, though as he said the words he knew this was not a good match at all. The whole situation was nothing short of mad. But he did not express any of this out loud to Patience -- there was nothing he could do about it now anyway. They were more than halfway to Wyoming and they had no other option.
“I am sure he will be able to provide for me.” Patience’s tone was flat and she looked out across the plain. “But what if he can never find it in his heart to love me?”
Her words pierced a hole through Warren’s vulnerable heart and he felt his stomach lurch at such a thought. How could any man in his right mind not find love for such an incredible woman? The man who would have Patience as his wife was the luckiest man alive. He wanted desperately to tell her so, but rather, kept his thoughts to himself.
The rest of the journey to Wyoming was, thankfully, uneventful. Some of the other wagons, including Faith’s, had split off when they had passed through the danger of ambush by the Indians and Patience found herself hopeful that she would meet up with Faith again someday.
Warren hunted with the men as buffalo were plentiful in this land and Patience spent much of her time resting and preparing meals for the hungry men. Around the fire in the evenings, Warren sat close to Patience. They said little but caught glances often as one watched the other. Volumes were spoken in those glances, each feeling the imminent bitter separation that would soon cast them in different directions.