Wagon Train Sisters (Women of the West) (7 page)

“No. We’ll get off to any early start.”

“Then good-bye, Mr. McCoy. May your journey be a safe one.”

“Yours, too.” He touched the brim of his hat with two fingers and was gone.

* * * *

When Sarah came out of her tent in the morning, Jack and Ben were no longer there. She expected they’d be gone, but as she stood surveying the spot where they’d slept, a gloomy desolation enveloped her. Last night she’d been in a man’s arms—something she’d never expected after her marriage to Joseph. She wanted nothing to do with men, and yet…Jack’s kiss had stirred a passion within her she’d long thought dead. Now he was gone forever, leaving her with a life filled with…what? Her books? Helping the sick and poor? Vast, empty years stretched ahead.

“Good morning, Sarah.” Already dressed for the day, Ma climbed down from the wagon. “We’ll make a quick breakfast this morning. Your father wants to make a lot of miles today.” She sighed. “He’s going to have his hands full, having to do everything by himself.”

“He should have thought of that before he told Mr. McCoy and Mr. Longren to leave.” If her answer was sharp, she didn’t care.

“You know your father.”

“At least he’s learned how to handle the animals.” Sarah gave her mother a reassuring smile. “We’re going to be fine. Maybe today we’ll catch up with the train.”

“Frank is hell-bent on catching up, but how can we when we go so slow?” Luzena cast a resentful glance to where her husband was yoking the oxen. “Look at him—all thumbs, stumbling around like an idiot. It’ll be a miracle if we get there at all. And, no, I don’t think we’ll ever catch up with Mr. Morehead’s train. Frank was a fool to send Jack McCoy away.”

Sarah’s gloom grew deeper, if that was possible. Ma never used to talk that way. Back in Indiana, she’d kept her husband on a pedestal, but not anymore. How sad to think their old life had disappeared forever, but it had, and there was no turning back. Even when they reached California, if they ever did, things would never be the same. With an effort, Sarah squared her shoulders. “It can’t be much farther, and then it’s all going to be fine. We’re going to find the train. We’ll keep looking for Florrie, and who knows? Yesterday we found a sign of her. I predict we’ll find another today, or soon.”

Ma smiled and patted her cheek. “You’re such a good daughter. I know you’re trying to keep my spirits up, but, Sarah, I don’t know…” She glanced over at Pa who’d just finished hitching the oxen to the wagon and now stood exhausted and out of breath. “Look at him—tired already, and we’ve got the whole day ahead of us.” Her face went grim. “So here we are, all alone with no one to help us if something goes wrong, and I know it will.”

Sarah searched for something cheerful to say, but nothing came to mind.

* * * *

They started the day’s trek under bright sunshine and a clear blue sky. By noon the temperature had dropped considerably. The fluffy white clouds that had gathered were soon replaced by the dark, low clouds that signaled an approaching storm. Late in the afternoon, they felt the first raindrops. Ma wanted to stop, but Pa was determined to keep going, rain or no rain. “We must catch up to the Morehead train.” The rain grew heavier, but Pa urged the oxen on. Sarah was riding Rosie, but when her horse started slipping in the mud, she dismounted and led both Rosie and their other horse, Titan. Pa kept going, even though the oxen were straining for all they were worth to move the wagon along the muddy road. To lighten the load, Ma climbed from the wagon and walked with Sarah, both growing colder, wetter, and more miserable as they went along. “Frank, you’ve got to stop,” Ma yelled.

“Just a little farther!” Oblivious to the rain, Pa sat hunched on the wagon seat over the reins. “Don’t want to spend another night alone.”

They stopped briefly to eat. The downpour made it impossible to build a fire, so they dined on beef jerky and hardtack, washed down with muddy water. To Sarah and Ma’s dismay, Pa insisted they start again. As the rain poured harder, the trail got worse, and the oxen started slipping in deep mud. When they came to what resembled an impassable muddy mire, Pa halted the wagon and peered thoughtfully ahead. Ma called up to him, “We can’t get through, Frank.”

He called back, “Yes we can,” and drove the wagon forward. Now the animals were slipping through a heavy, deep, sucking mud that tugged at their hooves and grabbed at the wagon wheels. Finally the wagon sank clear to the axle and sat immobile while the oxen flailed. Sarah grasped the lead ropes for Rosie and Titan. She was guiding them out of the mire onto a grassy spot by the side of the trail when they suddenly broke through the sod and were unable to pull their hooves out. Both animals whinnied and snorted in fright, and began heaving this way and that. Sarah held tight to the ropes. “Rosie, Titan, calm down,” she called over the howl of the wind. Though their eyes were wide with fear, both animals heard her and settled down. Soon Titan broke free of the mud, but Rosie sank deeper.

The rain pounded. The wind howled harder. “Sarah, come get out of the rain,” Luzena called.

Sarah looked to where her parents huddled in the wagon, trying to keep warm. So far, there’d been no leaks in the canvas, so at least they were dry. So tempting. How she’d love to join them. “I can’t leave the horses! Rosie’s stuck. I’ve got to keep her calm. If she panics and starts heaving around, she might break a leg.” She would not desert her horses if she had to stand here until dawn.

Pa climbed from the wagon and unhitched the oxen. At least they weren’t stuck like the horses, and he managed to lead them to a more sheltered spot under some trees by the roadside.

Ma braved the rain and mud to bring her a blanket. Tossing it over Sarah’s shoulders, she said, “This is horrible. What have I done to you?”

“It’s not your fault, Ma.” Her lips were so numb from the cold it was hard to talk. “I don’t blame Pa, either. He did what he thought was best for all of us.”

“I feel so trapped.” Luzena spoke in an anguished whisper that tore at Sarah’s heart. “Every once in a while I think, I’ve had enough of this rain and cold and I’m going to get warm now. Then it hits me—there’s no place to go, nothing I can do. I’m stuck and there’s no escape.”

Sarah looked for words of comfort, but they were hard to find. Nothing to do but somehow, some way, get through this long, horrible night. “We’re going to make it, Ma. Get back in the wagon and try to keep warm.” Such inadequate words but the best she could do.

Drenched and exhausted, Sarah stood between the horses for hours praying for dawn to come and the rain to stop. Without a doubt, this was the worst night of her life. Her feet were like chunks of ice, her clothing frozen stiff. She would never be warm again. At least the horses stayed quiet. Somehow she’d get them out of the mud when morning came. As dawn broke, she was resting her head, eyes closed, against Rosie’s flank when she heard a voice.

“If it isn’t the Widow Gregg. Need some help?”

She opened her eyes. Was it a dream or was Jack McCoy looking down at her from his horse, a little smile playing on his lips?

* * * *

The day before, after Jack and Ben left the Bryans, they had traveled for several hours when Ben held his hand out. “Uh-oh, just felt a raindrop. Judging from the looks of that sky, we’re going to get a downpour.”

Jack hoped Ben was wrong, not for his own sake—he’d ridden through many a storm—but for the sake of the Bryan family. He’d never seen a bunch so unprepared for the hardships of the trail. At least Frank now knew enough to yoke and unyoke the oxen. He’d better know enough to stop the wagon when the rain started. Otherwise…but wait, not his business.

By the time they made camp for the night, rain pelted from the sky and a chill wind caused them to don their warmest gear and cover themselves with the linseed-oil slickers that would at least keep them dry. “Wonder how them Bryans are doing,” Ben called from beneath his poncho. “Like as not, they’re bogged down somewhere.”

“Like as not.” Jack couldn’t sleep. As each hour passed, the rain fell harder and the wind blew stronger. The Bryans had to be in trouble. No way could they survive the night in good shape, what with the ignorance of Frank Bryan. The rain was letting up, but only slightly when he rose and reached for Bandit’s saddle.

Ben poked his head out of the poncho. “What the Sam Hill are you up to?”

“I’m going back.”

“Jumpin’ Jehoshaphat! You’re going all the way back to help that crazy family?”

“You don’t have to come.”

“I knew it, I knew it.” Muttering under his breath, Ben crawled from beneath his poncho. “You know I’ll come with you, but don’t tell me you’re not interested in the welfare of a certain widow.”

Jack stayed silent. What could he say when Ben had just nailed the truth dead-on?

Jack peered down at the woman standing between the two horses, clutching the lead ropes in a death-like grip. Drenched to the skin, she was beyond shivering. Judging from the stark whiteness of her face and the bluish-white tinge of the skin around her mouth, she had the beginnings of frostbite. Quickly he swung off his horse. “You’ve been here all night?”

She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. All she could do was nod. She resembled a drowned rat, her long hair plastered to her head and her clothes and blanket dripping wet. He pulled it from her shoulders, grabbed a dry blanket from his bedroll, and threw it around her. “Got to get you dry. Don’t worry about the horses. I’ll take care of them.” He picked her up and carried her out of the muck and mire to the wagon where Frank and Luzena anxiously waited. “We need to get her dry and warm in a hurry.”

Frank asked, “Will she be all right?”

“She’ll be fine, but the next few hours will be tough. Have you ever thawed out from frostbite?”

* * * *

Ma helped Sarah out of her soaking wet clothes and boots and into another dress that had miraculously stayed dry. Clutching Jack’s blanket around herself, she climbed from the wagon and huddled by the small fire Jack built with the last of the dry wood they kept in the wagon. Slowly the heat crept through her. So good to be warm again! She thrust her feet toward the fire. They were the worst, still numb with cold, especially her toes. Gradually they thawed, and then the pain began, a deep, throbbing agony that wouldn’t stop for a moment. It kept getting worse until she was rocking back and forth, biting her lip to keep from crying out. She had never known such pain, yet she wouldn’t make a fuss, especially with everyone so busy cleaning up after the storm.

Sometime during the night, the canvas had sprung a leak. Her parents had to haul sopping wet blankets and items of clothing from the wagon and spread them in the sun to dry. Jack and Ben got spades from the toolbox and dug out the wagon wheels. With Ma, Pa, and Ben leaning in with their shoulders from behind, and the animals pulling with all their might, Jack took over the driver’s seat and urged the oxen forward. They all cheered when, with enough pushing and heaving, the wagon finally lurched free.

They cheered again when Jack dug Rosie and Titan from the mud.

At least Pa had the decency to apologize. “It seems I was mistaken, Mr. McCoy. You didn’t have to come back, especially after I asked you to leave.” For the first time in his life, a sheepish expression marked his face. “I’m beholden to you, sir. Don’t know what I would have done—”

“Forget it.” Obviously Jack wasn’t interested in apologies. Despite how busy he was taking care of the animals, he kept the small campfire going, checking on Sarah often. Once, when she couldn’t help moaning from the pain, he asked Luzena, “Do you have any laudanum?”

“I did, but Becky took it.” Ma’s look of disgust made it plain what she thought of her daughter-in-law.

“I’ll get her something.” Jack dug a small pouch from his saddlebag and was soon brewing some kind of tea. When he finished, he thrust a cup filled with steaming liquid into her shaking fingers. “Drink this.”

She took a sip. Ah, that felt good, just to have something warm inside her. It had a bitter taste. “What is it?”

“It’s a root called black cohosh. The Cherokees use it to make alcohol, but it’s also good for pain. You’re not pregnant, are you?”

What!
If she’d been capable of blushing, she would have done so. At home, a gentleman never discussed such an intimate condition with a lady. But then, she wasn’t home, this man was no gentleman and, at the moment, she wasn’t much of a lady. “No, I’m not pregnant. Why do you ask?”

If he’d sensed her initial shock, he gave no sign. “Pregnant women shouldn’t take black cohosh—for a lot of reasons.”

A wave of pain hit her. She bit her lip to keep from crying out. Jack knelt in front of her, took her throbbing right foot in his hands, and massaged it vigorously. He kept on until the pain eased slightly and a touch of warmth returned. He did the same with her left foot—so competent, as if his skilled hands had done this sort of thing before. The pain lessened. She breathed a sigh of relief. “That was wonderful. I’m beginning to feel my feet again.”

After he left, she stayed by the fire sipping her tea. The pain was all but gone. She suspected the black cohosh, which could also be responsible for the sense of well-being that enveloped her. After a while, when the animals had all been fed and the wagon dried out, Jack came to sit with her. By now, all work was done. Her parents were napping in the wagon, and Ben was asleep and snoring beneath his poncho.

Jack sat in that easy way he had, knees apart, hands loosely clasped in front of him, yet she sensed he was regarding her with keen, observant eyes. “So you’re all right now?”

“The massage helped a lot.”

“I’ve seen strong men cry when their frostbite thawed. You did well.”

His praise meant a lot, more than she cared to admit. She gave a casual shrug and cocked her head. “I never heard of black cohosh.”

“It’s an Indian remedy. Tribes like the Delaware, Iroquois, and Cherokee use it for everything from arthritis and snakebite to easing the pain of childbirth.”

“You know so much, like you must have been raised by Indians.”