A Dream Unfolding (14 page)

The thing that bothered her the most about Drew’s immovable stance was that he continued to tell her the move was God’s will.
 
If that was true, then why didn’t she have any peace about it?
 
She tried.
 
She prayed and prayed and prayed.
 
She asked God to help her set aside her feelings and seek Him in this situation.
 
Yet, she still had no peace.

Then again, she had not fully set aside her feelings.
 
She hated leaving Ohio.
 
She despised Thomas for robbing the bank that started so many difficult circumstances into motion.
 
She fought against Drew’s decision—at first with words, then later with her silent resistance.

Another sigh rose to the edge of her breath.
 
She quickly swallowed it away.
 
Regardless of her feelings, she and Drew were moving to La Paz in the Arizona Territory.
 
She would have to start over, again, in a new place with new people.

The slowing of the wagon pulled her from her frustrations.
 
As Drew set the brake, Hannah quickly hopped down, without waiting for his assistance.
 
Since he struggled so much with the team, she figured it would only slow down the process and deepen her embarrassment if she waited for the gentlemanly gesture.

She watched him from the corner of her eye.
 
Even several days into the journey he seemed to have to concentrate very hard to remember how to properly unyoke the oxen and set them afield to graze for the afternoon break.
 
It pained her to watch.
 
Having grown up on a farm, she learned long ago how to hitch a team and how to care for livestock.
 
She knew she could be done in half the time.
 
And the first day on the trail, she made the mistake of trying to help him.
 
He snapped at her, telling her that none of the other men needed help from their wives, so why should he?

Hannah pulled the small bundle of food from the wagon.
 
Each morning, following a hot breakfast, she prepared food for the midday meal.
 
Typically, she set aside some bread, dried beef, cheese, and other cold foodstuff.
 
Only breakfast and supper were hot meals.

A good ten minutes after all the other men finished setting the oxen out to graze, Drew joined her on the blanket she laid out next to the wagon.
 
She poured them both a cup of water, handing one to him.
 
When he reached up to take the cup from her, his fingers lingered against hers long enough to give her pause.
 
A tentative smile graced his lips as tingles traveled up her arm.
 
Releasing her hold on the cup, she quickly sank to the blanket, turning her attention to dividing the meal.

She handed Drew his meal and waited while he blessed the food.
 
As soon as the prayer concluded, Hannah nibbled on the bread and dried beef, still fearing the silence between her and her husband.

“Have you met any of the other women?” he asked.

“No,” she replied sharply.
 
What did it matter if she spoke to the other women on the wagon train?
 
She doubted any of them were headed to La Paz.
 
And she did not really want to make friends that she would just leave again.
 
And she wouldn’t be in this position if he decided Indiana was far enough.
 
It was so unfair.

Drew finished chewing his mouthful of food.
 
As he turned to look at her, his eyes clouded.

“Hannah,” he said, reaching over to gently lay his hand on her arm.
 
“I didn’t mean anything by the question.
 
I’m just trying to…I hate this distance between us.”
 
His blue eyes bore through her defenses.
 
“I miss talking to you.”

Tears burned her eyes.
 
Maybe he still loved her.

“Anderson!” Eli Jacobs shouted, stopping her from responding to Drew.
 
“A word with you.”

Drew set aside the rest of his uneaten meal and jumped to his feet.
 
Then he walked a few yards away to where the wagon master stood.
 
As the two men conversed in hushed tones, Hannah began packing up their things, her earlier despair returned.

---

“Are those your oxen, Anderson?”

Drew nodded, unable to keep his nerves calm.

“Haven’t you noticed this one,” Eli asked.
 
“He is favoring his hoof.
 
If you don’t take care of that soon, you’re
gonna
have a lame animal.”

Heat flooded Drew’s face, growing hotter as Eli showed him how to care for the injured hoof.
 
How was he supposed to know what to look for?
 
He never worked with livestock.

He tried to pay close attention to Eli’s instructions, but the image of Hannah near tears distracted him.
 
What was happening between them?
 
What had he said to cause her to cry?
 
Looking over at his wife, he caught her dabbing those tears from her face with her lace handkerchief.
 
Guilt jabbed his heart.
 
He was alienating his wife.
 
He was failing miserably at leading them to their new home.

“Doc,” Eli’s irritated voice arrested his attention, “did you get all that?”

Drew nodded, wanting to appease the man.

“Good, then go to it.”

Blinking, he realized his bluff had been called.
 
Trying to remember the very first thing Eli showed him, he placed his hand on the ox’s back, sliding it towards the animal’s hind quarters.
 

When he bent down to lift the ox’s injured hoof, Eli chastised him.
 
“Pay attention this time.”

Drew forced his attention on Eli’s every movement, carefully repeating the steps in his mind.
 
Each time Eli mentioned what he should look for, he stored the information away for future reference.
 
This time, when Eli asked him to examine the animal’s foot, he responded by performing most of the correct steps.

By the time the hour and a half midday stop elapsed, Drew’s confidence faded even more.
 
Eagerly, he climbed aboard the wagon, glad to be free from the embarrassment for a few minutes.
 
He felt so inadequate, unable to manage the team.
 
What would he do if one of the oxen went lame?
 
Where would he get another ox?
 
How much would it cost?
 
What would happen if he could not find a replacement?
 
Would Eli make them stay behind?

Chapter
7

Hannah’s hope continued to fade throughout the afternoon.
 
Her thoughts kept returning to the distance between them, plunging further towards despair as the day grew longer and Drew seemed preoccupied.
 
Twice she tried to start a conversation with him, only to see his attention wane quickly.

By the time he pulled the wagon to a stop for the evening, she turned her energy to gathering firewood, glad for the distraction from her thoughts.
 
Her eyes darted back and forth across the tall prairie grass, looking for signs of wood peeking through.
 
The only thing that caught her attention was the round dark brown lumps resembling cow dung, only larger and less odiferous.

Walking farther from the camp, her gaze continued searching, still finding no firewood.
 
Perhaps she would have to forgo the hot meal and pull from their stock of dried beef instead.
 
As she turned back toward camp she noticed a cluster of women gathered around a plump older woman.

“Listen up, ladies,” the older woman shouted.
 
“From here on out, it is doubtful we’ll find firewood.”

Slumping shoulders, Hannah started to walk away from the crowd.
 
Drew told her they would have fuel enough to cook hot meals daily.
 
She had not planned to spend the bulk of the trip without fire.
 
And what about staying warm at night?
 
The temperature already dropped several degrees in the few minutes since they stopped traveling for the day.

The older woman’s next words stopped Hannah mid-step.
 
“We will have to use buffalo chips to fuel our fires.”

“Buffalo chips?” Hannah asked, relieved to discover they would have fire after all.

“Yes, dried buffalo dung or ‘chips’ makes an excellent fire,” the older woman replied with a kind smile.

Then she proceeded to show the crowd of women how to kick over the chips with the toe of her boot.
 
Next, she picked up and carried the chips in the fold of her apron.
 
Some women outright refused to pick up the newly discovered form of fuel.
 
Others hesitated, but eventually came around.
 
Hannah, figuring Drew preferred a hot meal, decided to follow the older woman’s example.
 
When her apron looked as full as the older woman’s, she returned to camp.

As she started to build the fire, the older woman who told them about buffalo chips walked by.
 
Hannah caught her attention and introduced herself.
 
“Thank you for telling us about the buffalo chips.”

“Glad to help, dear,” the older woman said with a warm smile before introducing herself as Betty Lancaster.

“How did you know about them?” Hannah asked.

“Oh, my sweet Henry and I traveled through some of the plains on our way to Missouri as a young couple,” Betty said.
 
Her black and silver streaked hair and the wistful expression implied the journey she spoke of transpired many years ago.
 
“
Twas
difficult learning how to live outdoors.
 
The first few days I missed my stove something fierce.”

Warmth flushed Hannah’s cheeks as she looked down at the pile of buffalo chips at her feet.
 
Her voice soft as she spoke, “I haven’t quite figured out how to cook the food evenly yet.”

“I would be happy to help you, dear,” Betty smiled sympathetically.
 
“It’s quite different from cooking over stove.
 
Give me one minute and I’ll be back to help.”

As Betty scurried to the wagon next to Hannah’s, one of the Shawnee Indians, hired by the wagon master, brought by several chunks of fresh venison.

“Now, dear,” Betty said, as she reached for a skillet, “just watch me.”

Taking the venison, Betty liberally seasoned it on both sides. Then she placed it over the fire.
 
Hannah watched carefully, noting each step Betty took and the placement of the skillet to the fire.

“Those first few days on the way to Missouri, I thought my poor Henry might starve, my cooking turned so terrible,” Betty laughed as she started preparing the beans.

“Henry?” Hannah asked.

“My husband.
 
‘Bout fifteen years ago he passed on.”

“I’m sorry.”

Betty patted Hannah’s hand.
 
“Don’t be, dear.
 
He’s with his Lord in heaven smiling down on us now.”

“Tell me you are not travelling across the wilderness alone,” Hannah said with wide eyes.

“No, no.
 
My son, Paul, is with me.
 
He’s been a great help since Henry died.
 
Took over the farm when he was nothing but a lad of seventeen.
 
Been taking care of his ‘
ol
ma ever since.”

 
“Is his wife with you?”

“Oh, no, dear.
 
Paul is not married.
 
Don’t rightly know why.
 
Guess he just never found the right woman,” Betty said cocking her head to one side.
 
“There, now,” she said pointing to the food. “Just turn the food often and everything will come out just right.”