“Danny, mark your page and come sit with me for a few minutes.” Smiling, he slipped a piece of paper in his book and worked himself into the big rocker beside her. Tillie was petite and neither of their feet touched the floor. Laughing, she said, “Son, this rocker was made by a big man probably for himself. When he thought about building this rocker, he had in mind that it would be a useful creation. Just like the creator of this rocker, we also have a Creator who did not create us just to stay busy. He is a purposeful creator. We were created for His good purpose so we would be useful to Him; thus, we are of value to Him. That is why we must have the utmost respect for human life.”
“Mom, it’s kind of hard to remember things like that when you are trying to keep a team of mule’s in line,” Danny said.
“I want you to consider our present situation and know that whatever the circumstances we find ourselves in God is with us. Whatever happens He allows. Remember that and never lose heart when things seem impossible. Always do what you can and when you have done all you can, stand tall and wait on the Lord. Being a Christian is easier when you stay in His will. He is the one who knows the beginning from the ending and will see us through,” Tillie said.
Both were quiet as they rocked back-and-forth. Danny rolled over in his mind what his mother had said. “Mom, you don’t want me to take God and all He does for us for granted, do you?” the young boy asked.
“That’s right, Danny. In a nutshell, that is what I want you to remember,” Tillie said with a smile.
On the third day after their arrival, the blizzard stopped. The snow was piled against the side of the cabin until it was half-way up the wall. Danny had tied the corral gate up with a rope. Each day he went out to pitch more hay in the manger and break the ice in the horse trough. He killed three rabbits close to the cabin and the next morning Tillie put a pot of stew on the hearth.
“Now that smells like we are going to have a mighty good supper,” Tillie said, as she stirred the bubbling stew.
“I better go feed the mules. They will set up a ruckus if I don’t,” Danny said as he put his heavy coat on.
Tillie replaced the heavy lid on the stew pot and rubbed her son's head as he passed by heading for the door. “Wear the cap I knitted for you. It's hanging by the door,” she said as he stamped on the heavy boots. “My goodness, Danny, you have grown a foot! This mountain air really makes a boy grow fast.”
“Mom, I have on a hundred pounds of clothes, that’s what makes me look big!” Danny said as he detoured around Mary sitting on the floor, talking to her dolls, totally unaware of the activity around her. Opening the door, Danny pulled the new rabbit lined knit cap down over his ears and braced for the cold wind. Stepping out quickly, he closed the door trying not to let any more heat out than he had to. Tillie took notice of the length of time he was gone each time he went outside. She knew the blistering cold was intolerable for very long. Suddenly from outside, she heard Danny yell.
“Mom, bring a rifle and come quick!” Dropping the knitting, she ran to the door, grabbing the rifle that stood beside the door as she flung it wide. Almost at the entrance, a big gray wolf stood. The wolf was startled nearly as much as Tillie as it turned to face her. The rifle came up and the shot sounded loud in the cabin. The bullet dug a furrow in the snow as the wolf sprang away. Standing at the end of the cabin, Danny stood between three more wolves and the barn. A few steps and Danny grabbed the rifle from his mother’s hands as the wolves leaped across the snow. Suddenly they were gone leaving only their thin trails through the snow to mark their passing.
“Why do you think they came so close?” Tillie asked.
“Mom, when I skinned the rabbits, I didn’t bury the remains. That must have attracted them,” Danny said.
“From now own, son, don’t leave the cabin without a gun and never lose sight of the cabin,” Tillie said.
Danny hunted close to the cabin and twice he took a good deer, which kept them in meat. One day the ice sickles hanging from the roof’s edge began to drip, and spots of earth began to show in the side of the mountains.
“Spring is on its way, son! We will be able to start traveling in another month,” Tillie said.
Danny replied, “I’m ready to go, Mom! It is awful confining in this cabin with Mary talking our heads off day in and day out!” Almost as if his words were overheard by old man winter, a late storm piled a foot of snow across the land before morning.
It was the last snow of the year and it didn’t last long. Spring came quickly and as the snow began to melt, they found the answer to their good fortune. The firewood was gone. The three had ventured out of the cabin, collecting any wood that would burn. They came on a tree that had fallen months before. Each day they returned to the tree and sawed branches away for the fireplace. On such a trip, Danny was pulling at the snow-covered limbs. He noticed a red swatch of clothing showing through the snow under a dead tree. Danny crawled under the fallen tree limbs and brushed the snow away, revealing a frozen body.
“Mom, there is a dead man under this tree!” Danny yelled, scooting away from the frozen figure. Tillie and Danny studied the tree. They figured the man had been cutting it and the tree had fallen against a dead tree, which in turn fell on the unsuspecting man.
“Well, let’s get the tree off him and get him buried before the wolves find him,” Tillie responded. They quickly sawed the limbs away, and together they pulled the frozen body from under the tree.
“He must have been killed about the time we showed up,” Tillie said.
“What are we going to do with him, Mother?” Danny asked.
Tillie responded, “We will dig a grave right here and bury him. He must have been the man that owned the cabin we are staying in.” Tillie removed his big knife and gun belt, and by lantern light, they dug a grave in the frozen earth and buried him. They piled rocks high on the grave to keep the wolves from digging him out of the shallow grave.
“What do you reckon his name was, Mom?” Danny asked.
“I suspect this is the owner of the cabin, John Morgan. If you have noticed that is the name in the big picture Bible in the cabin. I didn’t see where he had any kin listed in the Bible,” Tillie answered.
“Mom, I’m ready to go. Winter is over,” Danny said.
“I know. We could have left a week ago, but I hate to leave the security of this cabin,” she said.
A week later, they loaded everything of value into their wagon and again headed south, anxious to be on their way. It was early spring as they worked their way south into the wilderness. Tillie knew they had been very fortunate and if it had not been for the cabin and the grace of God, they would have frozen to death. She knew she had been unwise to venture down the North Country in winter. They had lived to tell about it, but she must never take such a risk again.
C6 Spring and New Birth
In early spring, they came across a wagon train that had left their wintering grounds and was heading south. There were only three wagons, but the extra people would make the trip much safer. One wagon belonged to a drummer with all manner of pots and pans. The other two were older people that had decided to leave the cold climate looking for a better life and warmer weather down south. There were no children and that left Danny to help around the campfires, harnessing their teams and carrying water for the older people.
The weeks dragged on and summer came. It was a wonderful time for Mary; wildflowers were abundant all along the trail. Danny became the man of the wagon train and enjoyed the help he was able to give everyone on the train.
“Danny, come over here a minute, will you?” Mr. Fredrick called as they walked by their wagon one evening before dark. Tillie smiled at her son and indicated he should see what the kindly old wagon master needed as she and Mary walked over to see what was cooking for the evening meal.
“Danny, what do you think about my horse?” Mr. Fredrick said, patting the big red horse on the haunch.
“He is the most beautiful horse I have ev
er seen!” Danny commented, rubbing his hand along the neck of the big stud. “One day, I will own such a horse as this.”
The old wagon master replied, “He is more than a looker. I bred him to have stamina and staying power. He is a king among horses. I have sold all my prize horses except Red here. I could never sell such an animal as this. He has been with me constantly from his birth and trained like no other. Now you are just beginning a new life in a great land. What do you intend to do?”
“I don’t know. I have been too busy taking care of my baby sister and all the work along the trail to think about the future,” Danny replied
“Do you plan on ranching or farming?” Mr. Fredrick asked.
Without taking his eyes off Red, Danny responded, “I hope so. Mom and I sure want a piece of land for our own.”
“Then, you will need a good horse to start your breeding stock and they don’t get better than Red here,” Mr. Fredrick stated.
“Mr. Fredrick, I don’t have any money to buy such a fine horse as Red,” Danny said in awe.
With kindness in his eyes, Mr. Fredrick said, “I could never sell such a friend as Red. I want you to have him as a gift. We brought him along with us because he was the result of years of my work breeding great horses.”
Mr. Fredrick continued, “Red is a three-year-old and been gentle broke. He will make you a great stud and start you off on the right foot. I am too old to start over again. Red is too good a horse to fall into the wrong hands. You take him Danny. He will help you make a life for your ma and baby sister.”
“Mr. Fredrick, I should pay you for such a horse!” said Danny.
“Son, that’s the thing about a gift. It cannot be paid for and to try will spoil and tarnish the gift. It must be accepted as it is given, freely,” the kind old wagon master said.
Danny rubbed his hands along the horse’s neck with tears streaming down his face. Suddenly he turned and threw his arms around the kindly old man.
“You love that horse, son. I have seen the way you look at him. All I ask is that you take care of him proper. That is all the payment that I will ever need for Red. I bred him to be worthy of his Creator. The kind of steed our Lord will someday return riding on so now he is yours to care for. You take him so you and he can get to know and depend on each other,” Mr. Fredrick said.
The mountains became rolling hills. In the valleys, they crossed rocky brooks, coursing down the mountainsides carrying clear streams of water from the melting snow. This day the wagons made camp along a swift-running river. The wagons had followed it along all day, trying to find a safe place to cross. The day was waning and it wouldn’t be long until daylight was gone.
“We will make camp here and cross in the morning. It looks like we are in for a good soaking,” Fredrick said.
Dusk fell and the day was done. The cook fires started as John Fredrick paced nervously around the encampment. He said, “I don’t like this place. We have been seeing growing numbers of Indian tracks each day. I have to believe they know we are here. Tonight, we will place guards under each wagon and sleep in shifts. Tillie, you and Danny go round up the stock and bring them in off the grass. We will keep them in the wagon circle tonight. The rest of you keep your guns handy. Tomorrow we travel hard and fast. We should be well east of here and out of this country by week’s end.”
The worried look on Mr. Fredrick’s face was enough to get Tillie moving. Quickly she took Mary by the hand and the three set out to round up the stock grazing peacefully on the prairie grass.
“Danny, you put a halter on Red. You and Mary ride him back to the camp. I will walk behind and herd the mules and oxen,” Tillie directed.
“Mom, you think there are Indians around here?” Danny asked.
“I trust Mr. Fredrick and he is right worried. We need to take every precaution and be ready if trouble comes,” Tillie said.
Tillie was good with the mules, and they minded her as she worked them across the rich grassland. They didn’t want to leave the rich grass, but the whip she carried made them pay attention.
A hundred yards before the camp, Red shied and his head went up. Suddenly a chilling war cry sounded as Indians covered in war paint attacked the wagons from all sides. Fear gripped Tillie as Red shied away from the gully on his left as a brave ran from concealment. The brave doubled over as shots rang out from behind Danny and he knew his mother had shot the brave.
Suddenly, the big horse bounded to a run. In an instant, Danny and Mary were out of reach as another brave came up out of the grass. Danny heard the pop of his mother’s pistol again and again. Danny held tight to Red’s mane and lead rope while holding his sister in place as the big horse circled and tried for the wagons that now were ablaze. Indians lay around the wagons indicating the attack had not been a total surprise and the repeater rifles were doing deadly work in close combat.
Danny could not turn to see what had happened to his mother. He was too busy clinging tightly to his sister and holding them both in place. The big horse galloped across the grassland and sailed over a burning wagon. The Indians mounted a second attack from the riverbank this time overtaking the defenders by their sheer numbers.
“Go, Red! Run, boy!” John Fredrick shouted as he clubbed his way into the Indians with an empty rifle. The last thing Danny saw was the old man that he had learned to love, die in a hail of knives and tomahawks. No one was alive in the circle as the big horse heard the last command of his master and with lightning speed, he cleared the burning wagon on the opposite side of the camp and ran into the disappearing evening light. As Red raced across the prairie, several Indians on small horses pressed him, but the big horse glided across the tall grassland leaving their mounts winded from the race.
The savage cry of the war party echoed across the land as Mary held desperately to Danny’s arm shaking from fear. Miles away, Danny came back to the same river and stopped the big horse so he could drink. He slid from the back of Red too stunned to speak and shaking from fear, not knowing what to do next.
“I want my mommy,” Mary said, almost in a whisper.
“Mary, be quiet for a minute and let me think,” Danny said.
Quietly she clung to a blanket she always carried and sobbed, “Bubba, I want my mommy.”
Danny slowly got his wits about him and realized he still had his pistol and knife on his hip. His rifle was slung over his back and held by a leather cord. He also had hanging around his neck a leather pouch that held as many shells as he could carry.
Big Red’s ears went up. Danny turned to see a small band of Indians trailing him across the tall grass. He must get away from them and find a place to hide. The two mounted and Danny kept Red in the stream headed north into the hills keeping to the water for a long way before heading into the mountains. For hours they rode with Mary mercifully asleep against his arm as the big horse made his way through the hills picking his path long into the night. Finally, Danny gave up on finding a comfortable place to spend the night. Stopping, he slid to the ground and laid his sister on the grass.
“I want my mommy,” Mary uttered, half asleep.
Danny replied gently, “Mary, go to sleep. I will find Mother tomorrow and everything will be alright. Now you sleep.” Tears streamed down his face as he sat on the dark hillside, not knowing what or where they were or what had happened to their mother. Holding his little sister, he remembered the words he had spoken only months before, ‘Mother, I’m almost a man now. I can take care of you and Mary.’
A few hours later, with the moon full and the stars bright in the heavens, Danny became twelve years old. He was afraid but determined to take care of his sister and find his mother if she was still alive. The big horse munched on the tall grass a few feet from them and Danny settled back in the grass and fell asleep holding to his sister and the lead rope of the big horse.
The next morning sunlight on his face awakened him and he sat up looking around the countryside. A new day had dawned and birds sang, as a soft wind blew
. Slowly, the cobwebs cleared from his mind and suddenly he was in a panic. Red was nowhere in sight. Laying his sister’s head on the grass, he tucked the blanket about her and walked across the grass looking for the big horse. With a sigh of relief, he saw Red drinking from a small stream of water that trickled from a rock formation. Danny was alarmed when he scanned the countryside. In distant grasslands, he saw the black specks of buffalo. Taking note of the scenery so he could find his way back again, he walked the horse back to where his sister still slept in the tall grass.
“We got to be going, Mary. We must find a place to get out of the weather and get some food,” Danny explained.
“I want my mommy, Bubba! I want my mommy right now, and I’m hungry!” Mary exclaimed.
“Mary, we got to find shelter and food. Then we can go looking for Mother,” Danny stated firmly.
“Bubba, did the Indians kill Mommy--huh?” Mary asked.
“No, Mary! Now quit asking so many questions!” He said as he led the horse out across the hills listening to his little sister ask one question after another. Most of all, she just wanted her mother.
The day drew on and they had not found a place to get out of the weather. Nor did they find anything to eat. With the sun directly overhead, Danny spied something ahead and angled across the valley. What he saw he wished he had not seen. Before them, a wagon train stretched out across the hillside. Some were overturned--some were burned. The skeletal remains of several horses were present though some of the bones were gone.
Fifteen wagons in all, in a single line. Danny knew from his experience on the wagon train that this one had been surprised and unable to circle up for protection. What canvas that had not been burned, flapped noisily in the breeze. They had met the same fate as the one he had been traveling. Danny slid from the horses back and went through the remains of the wagons.
Winter Crossing Page 7