Heartbreak Trail (22 page)

“
When do we get there?” asked the bright-eyed boy, still full of questions. Lucy often felt a burst of pride when she looked at him. Many children in the party were unkempt, allowed to run around on their own. Who could blame parents, burdened from dawn to dusk with the problems of simply staying alive? Still, busy as she was, she kept good care of Noah, who was always clean, tidy, and neatly dressed.

Clint strolled up, along with the Benton family. Lucy already knew he was there. Every single moment she knew exactly where he was.

“
When do we get there?” Clint repeated the boy’s question. “The Rockies are still a long way off, farther than they look. We should get there in two weeks, if we’re lucky.”

Nathaniel Benton gestured with a wide sweep of his hand. “Take a look, children. Decades ago, fur traders and missionaries were the first to sign this rock. Now it’s our turn. We’re a part of history.”

“
Our manifest destiny?” Lucy asked.

“
Hardly.” Nathaniel regarded her with his gentle gray eyes. “I’ve come a long way since Atlanta, and I’m not referring only to miles traveled. To tell the truth, I don’t think about manifest destiny anymore. I’ve lowered my sights. Now all I want is for my family and me to survive this arduous journey, just like the rest of you.” He placed an affectionate arm around Chad’s shoulders. “I can hardly wait to get to California, find a piece of land, and start our new life.”

Chad asked, “How much longer will we be on the trail, Mister Palance?” Lucy still marveled at the changes in Chad. Not only had he grown taller and much slimmer, but now, mostly thanks to Clint, he had some manners.

“
It’s about a hundred miles to the continental divide at South Pass. Do you know what ‘the divide’ means?”

“
Yes, sir! That means the water flows west to the Pacific instead of east to the Atlantic and Gulf of Mexico. How long before we reach California?”

“
That’s hard to say. At best, two more months, but better not count on it. We’ve been through a lot, but the worst of the journey is yet to come.”

Martha’s hand went to her throat. “Two months? I was certain we’d reach California before ... you know.” She blushed deeply, embarrassed to discuss such an intimate topic with a man.

Lucy tried to hide her own dismay. For the first time, she faced the real possibility that poor Martha would deliver her child by the side of the trail.
Just like Bessie
.

No! Lucy shook off her gloomy thoughts. Today she wasn’t going to think about Bessie or dwell on her fears for Martha. Today was a happy day, and she was going to celebrate this great occasion, their arrival at that famous landmark, Independence Rock.

On the narrow path down from the top, Clint trailed directly behind Lucy. At one place she stumbled over a rough patch, and his quick hands gripped her arms to steady her. Her flesh prickled at his touch, and she longed to be in his arms. Would they ever be alone again? She felt the hot ache in her throat and threw a quick glance over her shoulder. “Thank you.”

“
Don’t worry. I’m here.”

“
I know.”

She was continuing down the path, comforted to know Clint hovered directly behind her, when she started thinking about her friends and family back in Boston. What would they say if they could see the recently widowed Mrs. Jacob Schneider now? How shocked they’d be. How ironic it was that if she’d returned to Boston after Jacob died, she’d be dressed all in black, secluded in her grief behind closed doors. Here in the wilderness? She wished Pernelia could see her now. Patched blue cotton dress ... scuffed boots ... ridiculous sun bonnet tied in a limp bow under her chin. Not exactly the height of fashion. What would her high-minded stepmother say if she could read her thoughts? Doubtless she’d faint from shock because they didn’t exactly center around grief-filled remembrances of her dear, departed husband. They were thoughts full of lust, desperate yearning for the man following directly behind her. She should be ashamed of herself for thinking such things, but strangely she wasn’t. She did grieve for Jacob—thought about him every day—but life went on whether she wanted it to or not. Simply put, on a wagon train, the future mattered and the past did not.

Meantime, she ached for Clint’s touch.
When
could they be alone again?

Amidst tall pine trees, on a high, moss-covered bank overlooking the Sweetwater River, Lucy stood with the other women, Noah by her side.

“
Do we have to cross that?” Noah asked.

“
I’m afraid so.”

Hannah Richards stared at the swiftly running waters. “Just looking at that water scares me spitless. I hope we ain’t going to cross here.”

“
Don’t worry. Mister Palance said they’ll find a place upstream where we can cross safely.”

Noah pointed below. “Is that a big raft down there?”

Lucy peered down at the water’s muddy edge, where Abner, Clint, Charlie, and members of the council had gathered. Judging from the wild gesticulations, Abner appeared to be engaged in a heated exchange with several others. He kept pointing at the raft Noah had just observed. Lucy said, “I believe it’s called a skow. A wagon train that came before us must have built it to ferry their wagons across. See the poles?” She pointed toward several long poles that lay close to the skow. “They used those poles to push with. The skow is so big they had to leave it behind.”

“
I’d wager the water was much lower then and not nearly so swift,” Agnes dourly observed. “We would all drown if we try to use that skow now.” She crossed her arms in her familiar gesture of disapproval. “Just look at the bunch of them down there, all those men deciding our lives, and we don’t have a say.”

Cordelia appeared, Chad by her side. “I agree with you. If we women were making the decisions—”

“
We would all be heading straight back east,” Agnes interrupted. “Back to the homes we should never have left in the first place.”

Over the roar of the water, they couldn’t hear a word of the conversation below. They could tell, though, from the exaggerated gestures and angry faces that Abner and the guides were in a major disagreement. Finally, Charlie Dawes whipped off his hat and slammed it to the ground. Soon he came charging up the bank. “That dang fool!” Upon seeing Lucy, he stopped abruptly, looking sheepish.

He must be referring to Abner.
Lucy asked sweetly, “Is there a problem?”

“
Dad blame it! With all due respect, ma’am, your brother-in-law wants to cross the river right here, and I’m against it.”

“
That can’t be right. He can’t possibly—”

“
You bet your ass he can! Excuse me, ma’am. He’s got the council thinking they’ll save a lot of time, what with using that skow that was left behind. He says if that other party did it, we can do it, too.”

“
But we were just saying the water must have been a lot lower then, and not as swift.”

“
You’re dang right it was lower!”

As they watched, Clint, his forehead creased in a frown, came up the bank and placed his hand on his partner’s shoulder. “They just voted. Now stay calm. We’re going to cross here.”

Charlie’s mouth dropped open. “Well, I’ll be hornswoggled!”

“
Only the wagons. We’ll swim the cattle across upstream.” Clint’s voice was so calm he could have been discussing the time of day.

Charlie spat on the ground. “That is surely one piss poor decision.”

“
I know.”

“
Didn’t those lunatics see all the grave markers that read, ‘He drowned in the river’?”

“
They’ve made their decision. Let’s not alarm the ladies. Come on, we’d better start gathering rope. We’re going to need a lot of it if we’re going to cross here. Then we’d better find a place upstream for the cattle to cross.”

Just then, a group of six or seven Sioux arrived on horseback. Lucy no longer panicked when she saw Indians. The ones they’d seen thus far were what Hannah called “pesky” more than anything else. Sometimes they wanted to trade, sometimes they begged for food. At night, the council was compelled to post guards because the Indians had made countless attempts to steal cattle and horses.

Clint pointed toward the river. In what she guessed was Sioux language, he spoke a few words to the lead horseman, a toothless old man in an elaborate feather headdress. The old man looked puzzled for a moment then started to laugh, soon joined by his comrades.

“
What are they laughing about?” Lucy asked.

“
They’re laughing at the crazy white men who think they can cross the river here.”

After Clint and Charlie left, the Indians not only stayed behind, they lined their horses along the river bank, obviously to get a clear view of the white men below making fools of themselves.

Lucy watched with alarm and a growing certainty that Abner’s foolhardy decision meant disaster. She would at least have a talk with him. The chances she could change his mind were practically nil, but she’d try. She started down the wide path to the river but soon discovered it was muddy, slippery, and so steep she’d have to cling to vines to get to the bottom. They’d be bringing the wagons down this path. She didn’t know how they could make it. She almost couldn’t make it herself. Somehow she managed to reach the bottom safely and found Abner busy inspecting the skow. She gripped his arm. “Abner, please, you can’t cross here. It’s too dangerous.”

“
The decision’s made.” He jerked his arm away.

“
You can unmake it, can’t you?”

Abner shot her a withering glance. “I won’t have you—”

“
Look!” Lucy pointed upward toward the river bank where the line of Indians solemnly gazed down upon them, waiting for the show to begin. “They think you’re crazy to cross here. They’re just waiting for that skow to tip over and someone to drown.”

“
What do those stinking savages know?” With a look of contempt, Abner walked away.

Well, she’d done her best. All she could do now was pray they’d all get safely across. Maybe they would, but the more she gazed at the turbulent waters of the Sweetwater River, the more her heart filled with dread.

During the hours that followed, Lucy, joined by most of the women, watched the preparations from the river’s edge. First, the men had to get a rope to the opposite bank. Since the river was too wide to simply throw it across, Abner asked for a volunteer.

Benjamin stepped forward. “I’m a strong swimmer. I can do it.”

Lucy wasn’t surprised that their hired hand had volunteered. Inconsolable since Roxana’s death, Benjamin kept himself busy every hour of the day, as if hard work could prevent him from picturing his beloved’s horrible death. Often Lucy tried to persuade him to play his guitar and sing, but he always refused. He never laughed anymore and kept strictly to himself, shunning friends who tried to help.

Abner seemed satisfied with Benjamin’s offer, but Clint spoke up. “That’s a treacherous river, Son. Are you sure?”

“
I’m sure.” Benjamin’s sad smile told Lucy he thought he could make it, but if he didn’t, he didn’t much care.

Benjamin stripped off shirt and shoes and plunged into the water, rope between his teeth. He began to swim toward the opposite bank, but the swift current carried him downstream. Soon he was fighting his way across. For an awful moment, Lucy thought he’d be swept away. She cheered with the rest when she saw him grab hold of a rock on the opposite shore, pull himself from the water, and hold the rope high.

Soon three more men, clinging to the first rope, brought more rope across. Next, a party of men dragged the skow to the water, attached the ropes, and shoved it in. They rolled the first wagon aboard, centered it, and set big blocks of wood to hold the wheels. “I’ll ride her across,” declared its owner, William Applegate.

“
Are you sure you can manage?” Abner had a slight edge of contempt in his voice. Blunt, outspoken William Applegate was one of the men who had insisted Abner dump his barrels of whiskey. Abner had heartily disliked him ever since.

William Applegate didn’t bother to reply. “Come on,” he called to three of his hired hands. “Grab those poles, and we’ll guide her across.”

His wife, Agnes, drew in a horrified breath, then made a beeline for the skow and started waving her arms. “What are you doing! You let the young men do that! Get off that boat right now!”

“
Shove off, boys,” William Applegate said with great haste.

Men on both sides of the river pulled on the ropes to keep the skow steady. They worked it into the deep water inch by inch, the four men aboard straining on the long poles. Once, in the middle of the stream, the skow began to tilt, drawing shrieks of fright from the women observing along the shore. Soon it righted itself and reached the far bank without mishap.

Agnes had watched with bated breath, hands clenched stiffly by her sides. “Thank God he’s all right!” William Applegate landed, jumped to shore, and gave her a hearty wave. Lucy laughed to herself. Her sour-faced friend often referred to her husband as “that old coot.” Obviously, she cared more for him than she let on.

Three more wagons crossed safely. Each time, Abner’s expression grew more annoyingly smug. Lucy glanced back up the bank, where a line of wagons still waited their turn. “We’re not done yet.”