Land of My Heart (13 page)

Before they knew it, breakfast was finished and cleaned up and the wagon train was on the move once again. Eastern Kansas woodlands gave way to virgin farmland and prairie plains. Nebraska looked much the same, and Dianne seriously wondered how the leaders knew where one state or territory ended and another began.

She walked at a steady pace beside her oxen team. The tall prairie grass had been beaten down in this area from multiple wagon trains headed west. Deep ruts were formed in the ground where hundreds, maybe even a thousand wagons had gone before theirs. It put Dianne in deep thought as she considered the pioneers who had moved west to start new lives. These ruts represented their hopes and dreams. At the same time, a dead horse or the skeletal remains of an ox reminded Dianne of the frailty of life. Had the people traveling before her actually reached their destination? An occasional grave marker suggested that not all of them had. The graves always discouraged Dianne, but she said nothing to her family about it. The boys wouldn’t understand, and her sisters were too young and would only be frightened. And there was no sense in talking to her mother—she’d seen enough death. To contemplate the graves alongside the trail would only cause her further pain.

Although hundreds of people moved west with them, Dianne often felt alone, isolated. There were people to talk to; there had even been a couple of times when men had shown interest in her, only to have her brothers tell them she was too young for courting. It was secretly a relief to Dianne that her brothers would handle the matter for her, but at the same time she couldn’t help but wonder if the company might have been nice. A few times, Dianne had tried to seek out neighboring families who had daughters her own age, but everyone was too busy for lengthy socializing. Even when they rested on the Sabbath and didn’t travel unless there was a threat to their well-being, there wasn’t a whole lot of time for idle talk. Chores still had to be maintained in spite of it being the Lord’s Day.

Washing was generally best kept for Saturday evening, for then the clothing had all night and into the next day to dry. The women sometimes got together and helped each other with the washing, talking and exchanging recipes as they performed the task. Dianne seldom joined them, however. Her mother seemed to prefer they keep to themselves. Susannah Chadwick considered it troublesome to share personal information with strangers, and she had no desire to make close friends.

Often on Sunday the clothes would be ironed or mended, and sewing and mending harnesses and wagons was generally reserved for that day as well. Together, the families had fallen into a pattern of seeing to duties and amazingly enough, it worked quite well.

Watching the ribbon of travelers, Dianne marveled at the very thought of what they were doing. The wagons stretched for what seemed like countless miles. She couldn’t see where they began or ended, and it gave her a feeling of security. There was safety in numbers, her mother and father had always said, and nowhere did that seem more true than here. Zane had shown her a map of the country. He’d pointed to where they’d lived in New Madrid, then pointed to the Idaho Territory. The distance was impressive and frightening. There was very little in the way of civilization once they got past Missouri. A few forts would help ease the miseries and provide the possibility of extra supplies for some who’d lost or used up their goods. But other than that, there was nothing. Nothing but the vast wilderness.

Dust swirled around them as the train moved ever toward their goal. The Platte River offered them a constant source of refreshing water, but nothing could hold back the trail dirt. Of course, the rains and mud were just as difficult to deal with, but for entirely different reasons. Dianne preferred this dry stretch of ground to the muddy bog they’d fought back in northern Kansas.

Pushing her bonnet back just a bit, Dianne strained her gaze to the west. She noted a few wispy clouds and prayed they might offer just enough rain to lay the dust.

“Better keep that sunbonnet pushed forward,” Griselda Showalter said as she walked toward Dianne. “You’ll regret it if you let the sun burn you.”

Dianne disliked Mrs. Showalter almost as much as she did the hated bonnet. Mrs. Showalter was always sticking her nose in where it didn’t belong, as far as Dianne was concerned. However, her mother seemed to enjoy the gossipy woman’s company.

“Ma’s in the wagon lying down,” Dianne offered, choosing to ignore the woman’s scowl. Dianne slowed the team. “Do you want to step up for a visit?”

Griselda nodded. “I’ve come to discuss the Indian troubles.”

Dianne felt her eyes grow wide and tried hard not to show her fear. “Is there trouble close by?”

“Close enough,” Griselda replied. “Now stop this wagon. I can’t jump aboard like some. It just isn’t ladylike.”

Dianne hid her smile as she brought the oxen to a standstill. She had no doubt Griselda’s difficulty in mounting the wagon had more to do with her rotund waistline than her concern over etiquette. The other night they had joined the Showalters to share supper, and Dianne had never seen a woman eat as much food as Mrs. Showalter. In fact, Dianne had never seen any man eat as much.

Griselda hoisted her heavy body up onto the back of the wagon, talking the entire time. “Susannah, it’s me, Griselda. I’ve come to see how you’re faring. There’s trouble aplenty in the west… .”

Dianne could hear her continued chatter even after she urged the oxen forward. Dianne felt sorry for the woman’s poor little husband. He was probably no more than a third Griselda’s size. He looked so frail that Morgan once suggested a good wind could blow him clear to Texas. Dianne had a hard time imagining how the couple must have met and married. They seemed so mismatched. Griselda was a talkative, pushy woman who insisted her thoughts and opinions were the only ones to be had. Percy, on the other hand, was so quiet and agreeable that he faded into the background anytime he was in the presence of his wife.

The Showalter children were obedient, to be sure. The only time Dianne had seen one of them step out of line, she’d been mortified to watch their mother take up a razor strop and beat the child soundly across the backside. Most of the time, because of the work their mother gave them, they were too exhausted to do much more than eat their dinner and fall asleep by the end of the day. She’d certainly never seen them at play as she did her sisters. Even the littlest one, a four-year-old boy named Brian, was constantly working to gather wood or chips to fuel their evening fire.

Dianne noted their pace had slowed considerably. Gauging from the sun overhead, she figured it to be time for the nooning. As the wagons in front of her stopped, she drew up her oxen and halted them as well. Pushing her bonnet all the way back, Dianne wiped her brow with the hem of her apron and sighed.

She liked the nooning. They would eat cold leftovers from breakfast and rest for about an hour—sometimes two, depending on the weather and condition of the train. She found it a great time to slip away and talk with her only friend—Faith.

Dianne’s mother often slept at this time, grateful for the lack of motion. Today, however, it looked like she would be visiting with Mrs. Showalter, for Dianne never knew the woman to stay less than an hour.

As her brothers unhitched the oxen and led them away to water and feed, Dianne put out lunch for the boys and her sisters. Seeing Betsy and Ardith settled with their share of food, Dianne slipped down to the river to freshen up. Throwing the bonnet aside, Dianne splashed her face over and over. How refreshing it felt. She could feel the caked-on dirt wash away with each handful of water.

“It’s pretty senseless to be out here without a sunbonnet on.”

Dianne looked up to find Cole Selby twirling her bonnet in his hand. He tossed it to her. “I suppose you don’t have the good sense to wear this, but I must insist.”

Dianne was determined not to be bullied by this man. She set the bonnet aside and planted her hands on her hips. “You have no right to boss me around. I’m washing up, as if you couldn’t tell from having spied on me. One hardly wears a bonnet when washing up.”

“One does when dealing with the prairie sun.” He scowled at her. “You’re just a child, so I don’t expect you to understand. But the sun is fierce out here. If you spend the day with it beating down on your head, you’ll be sun sick before supper.”

“Mr. Selby, just because you’re older than I doesn’t give you the right to treat me like a child and call me one,” Dianne said, losing her interest in the previously quiet setting. “I’m old enough to know what’s good for me.” She climbed back up the muddy bank and stomped past him.

She hadn’t taken three steps, however, when she was halted abruptly by Cole. With his ironclad grip on her arm, Dianne knew it was senseless to fight him, but she did nevertheless.

“Don’t move!” he demanded gruffly.

Dianne didn’t know why, but it seemed sensible to do as he said. She stilled, then shuddered as he drew a long knife from his boot.

He seemed to understand and softened his tone. “You might not want to look.”

But Dianne couldn’t help it. Her gaze followed down to where Cole had squatted, his hand still firmly holding her arm. There under her left boot was the firmly pinned but wriggling body of a snake.

“You’re standing square on his head. He can’t strike or hurt you.

Don’t move and I’ll kill him.”

Dianne began to tremble but quickly nodded and looked away as Cole went to work.
How silly he must think me,
she admitted to herself.
Here I just told him I wasn’t a child—that I was old enough to take care of myself. Now he’ll really think me daft
.

“Seems I’m always coming to your rescue,” Cole said, releasing Dianne and standing. He held up the headless snake as though it were a trophy. “Rattlesnake makes good eating.”

Dianne felt her stomach turn. She thought she very well might be sick. “You’re going to eat it?”

“Sure. Why not? It’s good meat. Would you like to try it once I fix it up?”

She shook her head slowly. “No. No, thank you.” Dianne hesitated a moment. “May I … may I go now?”

“Sure. He can’t hurt you. Go ahead and lift your foot.”

Dianne did so quickly, almost jumping away. She turned to view the creature’s head, not knowing why. It was just as Cole said. It couldn’t hurt her now.

“Thank you, Mr. Selby,” she said, then hurried from him before he could reply. She had no desire to hear another lecture about her childish inability to take care of herself.

There was still plenty of time before they resumed traveling, so Dianne made her way through the labyrinth of wagons to where Faith and Malachi rested. Malachi was just getting to his feet as Dianne approached. “I need to be lookin’ in on dem beasts,” he told Faith.

“Afternoon, Miz Chadwick. Ya looks like ya’s seen a ghost,” Malachi said with a smile.

“I just had a rather frightening experience,” Dianne said, sitting down beside Faith. “I stepped on a rattlesnake and Mr. Selby saved my life.”

“Gracious, child. A snake like that could kill you dead,” Faith said, her hand going to her throat.

“I kilt me a snake just a few days back,” Malachi said, shaking his head. “Weren’t no rattler, it were a copperhead. ’Member that lake we camped by back in Kansas?”

Dianne nodded. “I remember.”

“That be where I kilt it.”

Faith shuddered. “I hate snakes.”

“Useless creatures,” Dianne agreed.

Malachi laughed. “Nah, some be good. Ya get ya a nice black snake in the barn and he be eatin’ yar mice and rats. Bull snakes will even kill dem rattlers for ya.”

“Well, no thanks,” Dianne said, the memory still too fresh for comfort. “I want no part of any snake.”

Malachi laughed again and continued chuckling even as he walked away. Faith couldn’t help but smile herself. “This is all so new for you, isn’t it?”

“I feel completely stupid some days. I try to mimic what I see others doing, but I fall so short of doing it right. I almost caught my skirt on fire—again—when I was fixing supper last night.”

“But those things happen to everyone. I knew a woman who boiled laundry day after day at an outside kettle. She caught her skirt afire one day and burned to death. Bad things happen sometimes like that. It doesn’t always matter what you know or don’t know.”

“What a horrible way to die.”

Faith nodded and extended a plate with biscuits soaked in bacon grease. “Are you hungry?”

Dianne took one of the biscuits and nodded. “There was a time when we would never have eaten such things. Now they seem like a treat. I get so hungry and I eat as much as a horse. It’s a wonder my clothes even fit anymore.”

Faith placed a cloth over the biscuits and poured Dianne a tin cup of water. “You’re probably working harder than ever before. You’ll need to eat more to keep up your strength. Say, how’s your mama? You said she was feeling poorly.”

“She still is. All she wants to do is ride in the wagon. She gets so tired when she walks. I’m worried about her, but she won’t talk. I think she still blames me for Pa’s death. Truth be told,” Dianne said, hanging her head, “I blame myself.”

“Seems like folks are always blaming themselves for the wrong things and not taking responsibility for what truly should be counted against them.”

Dianne looked up and met Faith’s sympathetic gaze. “But my insistence on going to the bank started the whole thing.”

“I’ve heard your account and I’ll give you credit for that much. But don’t forget that your pa allowed you to go. And the consequence of that was your encounter with those men. Your pa took care of that matter. He wasn’t shot because he took you out of harm’s way, now, was he?”

“No, I guess not.”

“I thought you told me the ruckus was caused because the army got involved. Wasn’t that right?”

Dianne remembered the scene as though it were yesterday. She could still see her father’s blood pooling out around his head. “Yes,” she finally managed to whisper.

“Dianne, it was an accident. Your pa was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Those men who accosted you could have walked away, but they chose to fight. Your pa should have come back into the store and let the army, or law, take care of the matter, but he chose to stay. It might have started with your poor choice—a choice your father agreed to— but it ended in free will. Those men made their choices and now you have to make yours.”