by Sadie Conall
Ella counted herself lucky as she heard the complaints of blisters and exhaustion, for she’d had Billy to ride for most of the way. Although she’d joined Ruby and Clara for a while, as they walked with Martha and Constance and the children. And as they walked, they picked up kindling and herbs.
But she knew like everyone else that tomorrow would be harder, for Artie hoped to cover fifteen miles, three more than they had managed today. Although the day had gone well enough, for after that second bugle call at 6am, the wagons had rolled on for two hours before Artie called for a stop, letting everyone rest along with the animals. Then they moved on, before stopping for lunch around mid-day and then another long walk of some three hours before Artie called a stop around 4pm.
“Four o’clock lets everyone rest up before bedtime, including the animals,” he’d said.
But by nightfall, most people were abed, ready for that 4am bugle call the following morning.
Indian Territory
May 1846
1
They rolled across the border into lands held by native tribes just after 6am the following morning. Although the wagon train’s arrival onto Indian lands was met by silence. There were no attacks, no warnings to turn around and go back, only the creak and groan of ropes and axles as the wagons moved across rutted tracks made by other wagons. But as if all who travelled on that wagon train were afraid of being found trespassing on land that wasn’t theirs, other than the neigh or blow of horses, or the grunt or bellow of oxen, everyone on that wagon train moved across the border in silence, with hardly a child heard crying on that cold grey morning. And as dawn came and went, as the morning slowly moved towards midday, there was nothing to show that anyone lived on this vast open land other than a few hawks flying low over the high prairie grass looking for voles and mice.
The company managed the fifteen miles that day without complaint, although Artie discussed the possibility with his officers of pushing them harder, closer to twenty miles a day, to keep ahead of the wagon trains coming up behind them.
It had been Marrok who argued against it. “Better to keep them moving at a good solid pace each day than push them beyond their endurance. You don’t want folk getting sick or their animals falling under the pressure.”
When they reached a wide, shallow river close to 4pm that afternoon, Artie called a halt, ordering the animals be watered before they were corralled and for everyone to get their shelters up, for the sky to the north bore heavy rain clouds.
The first drops of rain fell just after supper and as fires were extinguished by the rain, as clouds swept in to take away all light from the moon, the whispers of unease began to circulate around camp. And Ella heard those frightened whispers, of being in territory known to be hostile, and like everyone else she felt afraid.
But Artie and his officers also heard those rumbles of unease and to put a stop to it, they ordered more men to stand guard.
“Better to have a man stand guard with a loaded gun in his hand than ask him to try and sleep when he’s convinced he’ll wake to some Indian standing over him with an axe,” Artie said to Miller. “And better than having a group of men used to wearing their wives’ britches getting everyone riled up and scared. Can’t do much with a mob of men who aren’t thinking right because they’re seeing things that aren’t there. Better to get them moving. And doing something. Take their mind off their troubles. They’ll be so tired in a few hours they won’t care about nothing much, but crawling under the covers next to their wives and getting some sleep.”
So the guard was doubled, with groups of men walking about camp in the rain with shotguns. But Ella also slept with her father’s gun close that night, just as Wilber kept his father’s old-fashioned pistol close by and Ruby slept with hers.
It was close to midnight when Ella heard them. A small group of men on guard, passing by the shelter she shared with Clara. The men weren’t speaking kindly of Indians, for they felt Indians were depriving them of their warm beds, even though there’d been no sight or sound of an Indian the whole time they’d been on Indian land. And even though it had been Artie who’d asked them to stand extra guard, to their way of thinking, this inconvenience wasn’t Artie’s fault or their own fault for stirring up trouble, it was all down to Indians.
*
Ella was almost asleep when the wind started up. And as the canvas sheeting on either side of their shelter blew in and out with the wind, all Ella could hope for was that the extra sheeting she’d purchased in Independence and used for ground cover would keep her mattress dry.
And as she finally fell asleep, with her dreamcatcher on her pillow, she wondered where Marrok was and if he had a warm shelter of his own somewhere in this foul weather. She wished he were back. She felt the world a safer place when he was around.
2
When the storm arrived, Marrok was in a teepee smoking a pipe before a warm fire with a chief from the Otoe people. The Otoe were a Plains tribe who lived in earth lodges, but when hunting buffalo they lived in teepees. And as the chief discussed with Marrok the changes that were happening on his lands, speaking in Chiwere, a Sioux dialect, Marrok could hear the anger in his voice.
Marrok had come upon the Otoe as they rode across the vast grasslands looking for buffalo. But this year the buffalo had not come.
They had talked to Marrok out there on the vast plains for over an hour and when the storm clouds rolled in, the men had invited Marrok to stay the night with them. He’d helped them set up their teepees and as they sat around the central fire pit and smoked pipes, eating dried meat and corn bread as the storm lashed the hide walls, Marrok wondered how long it would be before there was bloodshed. For as long as the settlers’ animals continued to graze out the prairie grass, the buffalo would go elsewhere.
And although these people found fish in nearby streams and rivers and deer in the woods, they needed the buffalo to feed and clothe them, to make more teepees and moccasins and tools. And Marrok saw their frustration in their lean bodies, in the too-thin children, in the worn clothes.
They owned guns, but they were mostly flintlock muskets and most of them had long ago run out of powder and shot. For unlike the French and Spanish fur trappers who had traded weapons with them in years gone by, the American and European settlers now passing through their country wouldn’t trade the new carbine shotguns with them.
Marrok’s gaze settled on the five children lying beneath furs and blankets opposite him. They were all asleep, except for one little boy. He was about seven years old and wide awake, watching him. Marrok thought the boy too thin, his face almost gaunt. Then he turned his attention back to the men who wanted to know about this latest wagon train rolling across their lands. And when they asked to see it, Marrok was loath to take them, but better to show them the truth of it than hide what was coming.
He turned as someone passed the pipe to him and after he took a puff of it and passed it on, Marrok took the beef jerky from his bag and tossed it to the boy. The child was welcome to it and had Marrok more to give, he would have given it.
*
They sat astride their horses on a slight rise less than three miles from the wagon train. Besides Marrok, there were fifteen men. They were dressed like him, in buckskin and knee-high moccasins, the only difference were the old muskets they carried, compared to Marrok’s shotgun.
Marrok heard the distant cry go up from someone far below on the wagon train. It was a cry of warning. And Marrok knew that within minutes every man would be armed, with everyone looking their way.
“It’s a monstrous thing,” the chief said quietly, speaking in his Sioux dialect as he looked down on the hundreds of wagons and animals. “We have been patient, for we enjoy trading with these people, but this is too much. Look how they pollute our lands. Our buffalo should be here, but our lands lie empty. And if our buffalo were here, those men would shoot them for the meat, but leave everything else behind. And besides their own waste, they leave hundreds of blackened c
amp fires behind, having used our wood, cutting down our trees, leaving little for us. The earth cannot give back as quickly as these people take from it. It cannot be done. Soon there will be nothing left for us. My people are already going hungry, and this winter some will die from the cold. See how those women and children collect kindling from our lands and the herbs that our women need for our own cooking and healing. Our rivers and streams grow sour from their animals, and the white froth their women leave behind in the water when they wash.”
The wagon train made its way slowly towards them, yet it was so long Marrok couldn’t see the end of it. The wagons still travelled in that deep rutted track and the train stretched back for miles, the canvas covers above each wagon looking like some great rolling wave as they headed for the open prairies, the dust rising like some brown, misty cloud although it carried no moisture.
Marrok could see people pointing at them, he could see women picking up small children and running back to the safety of the wagons. He heard more urgent cries and shouts go up and he hoped no damn fool fired a shot.
It would only take one stupid mistake like that to start a war.
“My people call this territory Nibrathka,” the chief said with frustration. “It means flat river in their English, yet what will become of our Nibrathka once these people are finished with it. And what do they bring to my country? All I see is waste left behind them.”
Marrok said nothing more, for he had no words. All he had was the truth and he was well aware that his truth might do more harm than good between these people and those on the wagon train.
But he could sympathize with these people, as could Artie, for although they were employed by wealthy men in the east who owned the wagon train company, Marrok still owned Objiwa blood while Artie was married to a Chinook woman. They were in the unenviable position to see both sides. And clearly, one side was losing.
“Do you want to come down and talk to them?” Marrok asked the chief.
“Will they give me cattle to replace my buffalo?”
Marrok shook his head. “No, I don’t think they will.”
“Then I see no need.” He turned and kicked his horse away, disappearing down the side of the hill, his men following him.
Marrok felt the wretched taste of hopelessness crawl deep within his belly and he reached for his waterskin, rinsing his mouth and spitting before taking a long drink.
Then he kicked his horse on down towards the wagon train, to let Artie know that discontent was rising among the tribes who lived in this territory. Yet was suddenly grateful that this would be his last job as scout, because he didn’t want to be around when someone lit the fuse which would blow open the powder keg.
And it would happen.
Push someone hard enough and they’ll fight back.
3
Like everyone else, Ella saw Artie ride out to meet Marrok. The two men talked together for a long time, sitting astride their horses a good couple of miles from the wagon train, knowing whatever they said in confidence between the two of them, couldn’t be overheard. Yet Ella thought both men looked as though they bore the weight of the world on their shoulders.
Much later, as she sat alone by her fire darning a hole in Jasper’s shirt and a rip in her stockings, Marrok walked by, but he paused when he saw her sitting by herself.
“Where’s your team?” he asked, stepping towards her.
Ella offered him a coffee which he accepted and as he sat on Jasper’s box by the fire she poured him a mug of the hot liquid, before nodding towards her wagon.
“Martha in there. She has some nasty blisters on her heels, so Ruby and Clara are binding them with witch hazel and chamomile. Poor Martha, she can’t tolerate wearing boots at the moment.”
She nodded back towards the wagon circle behind them. “And Abe and Wilber are courting two sisters, although I don’t know how serious those boys are. I hope they know what they’re doing. The family are from South Carolina, but they’re heading for the Willamette Valley.”
“I thought Abe and Wilber had their sights set on California?” Marrok asked.
“I did too,” Ella said. “But by Abe and Wilber’s accounts, the sisters are not only good looking but their father is quite wealthy. Either one will turn a young man’s head.”
Marrok laughed as Ella nodded towards the canvas tents set up some way from the wagon. “And Jasper’s gone to bed. But he’s up before anyone else every morning. He pushes himself to make sure everything gets done. I don’t think my team would run so well if it wasn’t for Jasper and I’d be the first to admit he takes the load off me.”
Marrok nodded. “I like him a lot,” he paused, glancing at Ella, then added softly. “Perhaps it’s a good time to mention I’ve offered him a job working with me up in Oregon, if he doesn’t want to carry on with you to California.”
He saw the surprise on Ella’s face, and felt a moment of regret for approaching a member of her team. “I offered him the job when I first met him back on your ranch, when he thought you were going to marry Jebediah Crawley and he had no-where else to go. It was before you decided to come west with me and Martha. Anyway, I don’t think he’ll leave you, but he’s got another option if things don’t work out for him in California.”
Ella wasn’t sure to be angry or grateful to Marrok. In the end she shrugged off her annoyance. “He’ll do what’s best for him, I hope. Although I’d hate to lose him.”
“How’s Martha coping with her new family?”
Ella smiled. “She’s loving it. Although I think she’s exhausted by the little ones. They’re all abed, so she hobbled over to join us for a coffee and a piece of blueberry cake. Clara made it earlier after we had a share of blueberries from a huge wild patch someone found yesterday. You’ve never tasted anything so delicious, Marrok.”
She offered him a slice of the cake and as Marrok ate it, he glanced back at Willard’s camp. Only a couple of Willard’s men were still up sitting around the fire. Everyone else had gone to bed. He turned back to Ella, licking his fingers.
“And how are you coping Ella? With the early morning starts and long walks?”
She shrugged. “I’m used to getting up early because of the ranch. And I’m lucky I have Billy or Bear to ride, so it hasn’t been too hard. Which I’m grateful for, believe me.”
They turned as they heard the women climbing out of Ella’s wagon, holding up their long skirts and trying to be quiet, aware that a lot of people were asleep. Martha was limping, walking on her toes in her stocked feet. She grimaced in pain as she came and sat down beside him.
“My poor heels!” she said, showing him the wrappings on her feet where Clara and Ruby had bound them, hiding the raw wounds. “Mine are bad, but there’s a lot of others suffering blisters worse than mine. Someone said witch hazel and chamomile are the best to treat them, so hopefully it works.”
They talked for a little about their days, how they were finding life on the trail and after complimenting Clara on her cake Marrok finished his coffee and made a move to leave.
“I’d best get to bed myself. I’ve got another early start in the morning.” He wished them goodnight, then he was gone.
When Clara and Ruby stood up to go to their beds, for the first time since they left St Louis, Ella and Martha found themselves alone. And as Martha threw her dregs of coffee in the fire, she saw Ella glance back towards Marrok’s camp.
“Don’t stare too hard, girl,” Martha whispered. “There’s a lot of folk on this train who’d like nothing better than a bit of gossip. Don’t be the first to give it to them. If you want a man, keep away from Marrok, for one like that will bring you nothing but trouble. He’s not a man to settle, just remember that. Look to Pierce Calderson or Moss Weslock if you want a good man. Both are hard workers and you wouldn’t go far wrong with either of them.”
Ella thought of Pierce Calderson. In his early thirties, he wasn’t quite six feet tall yet he was a stocky thickset man. He was heading to Willamette
Valley to set up a blacksmith shop and although he was decent enough, Ella couldn’t see herself settling with him. Besides, there was something about him that made Ella think that Pierce wouldn’t take too kindly to being tied down, or being scolded by a wife, or harassed by children. But if he was inclined to marry there were enough girls watching him because like Martha said, he was a hard worker and ambitious. It just wouldn’t be with Ella.
But Ella felt hurt by Martha’s words. “You’re being ridiculous Aunt, if you think I’m interested in Marrok. He’s my friend. I can never repay him for what he’s done for me. As for Pierce and Moss, you’re wasting your time if you think you can match me with them. Or anyone else for that matter. I just escaped a wedding. I’ve got no inclinations to get involved with anyone this early in the journey.”
Martha shook her head in despair, then stood up to kiss Ella goodnight as Abe and Wilber arrived back in camp. The brothers took a slice of the blueberry cake then said goodnight and went to their beds. But as Martha limped back to the wagon she shared with her grandchildren, she looked over at Marrok’s camp. She liked him well enough, indeed, she respected him for all he’d done for her and Ella. But she saw nothing but misery ahead if the girl became involved with him, although how could she stop something that might have already started.
*
Ella remained by the fire, stung by her aunt’s words when Ruby appeared in the glow of the dying coals. She moved to sit beside Ella, her face red from washing in cold water.
“I thought you’d gone to bed,” Ella said softly, as the whole camp now settled for the night. Other than the men on guard duty, they were among the last to still be up.