Walk by Faith (6 page)

May 1, 1863

C
larissa switched her lead oxen and shouted, “Giddap!” She'd practiced driving the four-oxen team for the past two weeks and felt confident she could handle them. The man who'd sold the animals to Michael told him that by the time they reached their destination, they would be very attached to the poor beasts that would haul them and their belongings all the way to Montana.

Already Clarissa could tell the man was right about getting attached. She'd already named the four that pulled her wagon, Moo, Bee, Sadie and Jack. Buck and Betsy were tied to the back of her wagon for spares, so the animals could be rotated to avoid too much work for any one of them. She already knew each ox by its distinctive markings. Michael thought she was silly to name them, but for some reason that made it easier for her to handle them. She just hoped she had the strength to keep up with them and to help hitch and unhitch them every day.

She hated the fact that Michael usually had to help, especially yoking them whenever the oxen would not properly hold still. She had no doubt that by the time she reached Montana, she might be built like a man for all her hard work.

They headed toward Dawson's camp at the big oak tree in the distance. Michael and Carolyn took two wagons—Michael's pulled by six oxen because of an extraheavy load of farm tools and books, including a supply of Bibles and hymnals, donated by others for his new church.

Carolyn's wagon carried lighter household necessities, and Lena and Sophie rode together in it, bouncing around atop a pile of quilts and having a joyous time. Clarissa thought how oblivious the girls were to the difficulties that surely lay ahead. She prayed things would remain that way—that nothing would happen to either child and they wouldn't end up stranded and starving to death.

The latter seemed unlikely, as they had packed plenty of food. Distributed among all three wagons was dried beef, rice, tea, spices, dried fruit, beans, baking soda, flour, sugar, baking powder, canned pickles, bacon, potatoes, sweet potatoes, large tubs filled with plenty of lard for packing fresh meat to preserve it, salt, coffee, wheat, oats, cornmeal. She kept reviewing the list in her mind, worried they'd missed something.

They also carried a tin washtub, two washboards, lye soap, three coffee kettles, tinware, several fry pans, cooking utensils, trunks of clothes, plenty of blankets, quilts, pillows, heavy boots and warm coats. Michael had even thought to buy each of them capes made of India rubber, something new that worked well against rain.

A milk cow, which Lena and Sophie had named Trudy, was tied to one side of Carolyn's wagon, and it balked at leaving. The rope grew taut and stretched the cow's head and neck until the animal had no choice but to join the procession, and her calf trotted beside her. A slatted crate was secured to the side of Clarissa's wagon with rope, and inside the crate were three chickens that she hoped would continue laying eggs. A rooster sat on top of her wagon, occasionally flapping its wings and crowing, as though king of the wagon train.

Her wagon even carried a crate that contained something that had belonged to her mother—beautiful china from Germany, carefully packed in straw. It was all she had left of the mother she'd lost so long ago, and of the life she'd known in St. Louis.

She could not take her heart or trust with her. Chad had stolen both. It still hurt deeply to think about it, but it was done now, and she doubted she could ever love or trust a man again, let alone ever find it in her heart to forgive.

They guided the three wagons through rows of others still gathered outside of Independence, and after several minutes they came closer to the big oak, where Clarissa quickly counted ten wagons circled around it. Children ran and played, and women cooked in big pots over fires.

Families. That was good. Having other women and children along would make this trip so much easier. The families from Michael's church who'd originally wanted to come with them had decided against the trip. One of the men had been drafted into the Union Army under the new draft law. Another decided to stay behind to help care for that man's family, and the mother in the third family found out she was expecting. They worried the trip would cause her to lose her baby.

And so it was just Michael and Carolyn, the girls and Clarissa. Clarissa breathed deeply for courage. She hated lying, but after discussing the issue of her divorce, the three adults had decided to tell others that Clarissa's husband had been killed in the war. That would avoid problems that might arise with some of the women knowing she was divorced.

It still irked Clarissa that she should be ill-treated just because her husband had cheated on her. Chad was the coward and the adulterer, yet some people treated her as though she was somehow tainted now. It hurt deeply to be treated so. Deep inside she'd reconciled herself to her fate and had decided to be proud and strong and do a good job of raising Sophie on her own. After much prayer and long talks with Michael, she'd come to realize that God surely held nothing against her for the divorce. She'd been a good and faithful wife and mother. She would not allow Chad's foolish decisions to wreck her own faith.

The decision to go with Dawson Clements as their guide had not been easy. The man was certainly a contrast of character and emotions, saving a child one minute, beating a man near to death the next. He obviously had a goodness somewhere deep inside, but he certainly hated showing it. And as much as the man protested talk about God and prayer and professed to have no use for preachers, Clarissa suspected he longed to know Christ, to understand his own bitterness and perhaps find a way to forgive whoever it was who'd brought him to such an attitude.

Because of Dawson's experience with the army and Indians and the way west, and the fact that he had a commanding way about him that could mean a well-organized wagon train, they'd decided to join him.

When they drew closer to the other wagons, Dawson himself walked out to greet Michael wearing simple denim pants and a plaid shirt with knee-high boots. A gun was strapped to his side, and he still wore the wide-brimmed, black hat.

Clarissa watched him greet Michael with a handshake. Good. At least the man was accepting Michael even though he was a preacher. Dawson's attitude toward men of God was strange indeed, and Clarissa wished she knew why.

The men talked for a moment, then Michael nodded to Dawson and called out to the women to follow him to a grassy spot ahead. Clarissa followed, and Dawson stood and waited for her wagon to get closer. He walked up then and grasped the halter of one of the lead oxen, shouting, “Whoa, there! Whoa!” Once the animals stopped, he turned to Clarissa.

“You have no help driving these oxen?” he asked.

“I'll do just fine on my own, Mr. Clements,” she answered defensively. “Michael has taught me well.”

“It can get pretty tiring, ma'am, and sometimes these beasts get ornery and decide not to obey.”

“I'll handle them.” It irritated her that he should question her ability.

“What if you get sick or break a bone or something? Who's going to drive your wagon?”

Frowning, Clarissa folded her arms in front of her, a switch still in her hand. “Why do you care, Mr. Clements?”

He pushed back his hat, and Clarissa noticed a lingering bruise on his cheek. He was clean shaven again, and his dark hair brushed his shirt collar. It literally angered her to notice how good-looking he was, which made her feel even more defensive.

“Mrs. Graham, I got this wagon train together, and I intend to see that everyone arrives safely in Montana. Now for the sake of practicality, I need to know you'll have a backup for the days you can't drive these oxen, and believe me, there will be such days.”

“I can see you haven't changed when it comes to always looking at the worst of things, Mr. Clements. Tell me, do you ever wake up joyful, and simply grateful for the new day? Have you ever thought about simply trusting God to see you through things?”

He closed his eyes and let out an obviously disparaging sigh. “Mrs. Graham, we haven't even left yet and already you're presenting a problem.”

“A
problem?
”

He put his hands on his hips and leaned closer. “Yes. I'll be giving orders on this trip, and I expect them to be followed. Now, I was not trying to insult your ability to lead these oxen. I was simply pointing out a
fact.
The time will come when you'll need help with these oxen, so I'll talk to these families here. A couple of them have older teenage boys who could probably relieve you if necessary.”

“I can't afford—”

“They wouldn't expect to be paid. We're all here to help each other out and make sure we all get through this trip without too many mishaps, ma'am. And if the day comes that I tell you someone else is driving your oxen, I expect you to cooperate. Is that understood?”

Ever since Chad left her, Clarissa had grown proud of her ability to fend for herself, proud enough that she resented
any
man's help. She'd show men that she didn't need a man to take care of herself.

“Understood,” she answered, holding her chin high. “But only because I faint at the thought of getting on your
bad
side—that's assuming, of course, that you have a
good
side.”

He looked her over in a way that made her blush, then grinned. “I do have a good side, ma'am. It pops out every once in a while.” He nodded and tipped his hat, then turned away, calling to her as he walked back to the circle of wagons. “Meet us inside the circle in an hour,” he yelled, not turning back around. “Big meeting.”

Yes, sir,
she answered silently. An army man. She should have known that having been an officer, he was accustomed to giving orders. With a man like Dawson Clements in charge, this was going to be a very interesting trip.

I
t was nearly dusk when Dawson's orders could be heard shouted from within the circle of wagons. “Okay, everyone, gather round and listen up!”

Outside the circle where Clarissa was camped with Carolyn and Michael, Dawson's booming voice was easily heard. They took Lena and Sophie's hands and walked inside the circle, where the other families had gathered, all of them encircling Dawson and a grizzly-looking man of about forty-five or fifty who stood beside Dawson, leaning on a rifle.

Several women held babies, while older children standing nearby were ordered to keep quiet and listen. Clarissa lifted Sophie into her arms, and Lena grabbed hold of Carolyn's skirt.

Clarissa thought the bearded man leaning on the rifle looked as though he hadn't bathed in months. His leather vest appeared well-worn, as did his stained, floppy leather hat, and he wore a gun on each hip. She noticed some kind of big knife hung in a sheath from the man's belt.

“Everybody listen up,” Dawson continued, using the commanding voice of an army officer. “This is Zeb Artis. I found him today offering to lead a wagon train west, and I took it upon myself to hire him for our train. I know Zeb from when he scouted for the army off and on over the years. He's fought Indians and trapped beaver and hunted bear in the Rockies. The man is experienced. He knows the way west and knows Indians. You will all have to pool together to pay the man, but I hired him because while I'm watching over this entire wagon train, someone needs to scout ahead for good places to stop and rest, look out for Indians, herds of buffalo and the like. This group has grown larger than I'd planned on, and I can't do it alone. Zeb has agreed to help out. He'll be worth every penny you scrape up for him. He doesn't ask much—just whatever you can afford. I'll let all of you decide that amongst yourselves.”

No one argued, and Clarissa suspected that was because they knew better. Dawson had a way of stating facts with a strong hint that no one was going to change any decisions he made.

“I've made a list,” he continued, pulling a piece of paper from his pants pocket. “There are eighteen children in this group, ranging in ages from one to nineteen. We have twelve men and eleven women, ten wagons, ninety oxen, nine draft horses, twenty head of cattle, one bull, twelve calves, six milk cows, three horses and three mules.” He put the paper back in his pocket. “This is a big wagon train and a big responsibility. To make things go smoothly, I expect every one of you to follow my decisions and rules. Is that understood?”

People looked at each other and said nothing, until one man who seemed too well dressed for setting out on a trip west suddenly spoke up. “What if one of us thinks certain things could be done a better way, or thinks we should go on when you say to stop, or vice versa?” the man asked, an arrogant air about him.

“Then he should keep that thought to himself,” Dawson answered curtly. He glanced at Clarissa. “Or herself,” he added.

The remark made Clarissa bristle. Did Dawson Clements think she was going to be some kind of problem on this trip? How dare he! Dawson looked away, scanning the crowd. “You hired me to guide you west, mainly because I'm experienced and know the country into which we are headed. There is no sense questioning decisions I make when you have no grounds on which to argue about it. If any of you had already been west, that would be another story, but you are depending on someone who knows what he's doing to get you to Montana, and you're paying me well for it. So why argue about anything?”

The well-dressed man shrugged. “Just wondering if any of us will be allowed to speak our mind,” he said rather defensively.

“You're an attorney, I believe, Mr. Burkette?” Dawson answered the man.

Burkette, a nice-looking man with a pretty wife and two young children standing beside him, straightened, looking quite proud for people to know his profession. “Yes, I am.”

“Well, keep your concerns for peoples' rights and your fancy notions to yourself until you reach Montana, Mr. Burkette,” Dawson told him firmly. “When you get where you're going, you can practice law in any way, shape or form you want. You can tout your profession and your college education to anyone who wants to hear about it. But don't do so on this trip. If you want to travel with me, you'll listen to whatever I tell you and you'll do it—or you can travel with someone else. Is that understood?”

Burkette smiled and shrugged.

“I asked if you understood,
Lawyer
Burkette.”

Clarissa did not miss the flash of arrogance and anger in Burkette's eyes before he answered in the affirmative, and she suspected Dawson had not missed it, either. He glared at the lawyer a moment longer, until Burkette nervously looked away.

“I like this,” Michael said softly to Carolyn and Clarissa. “Mr. Clements will take no argument or trouble from anyone. That's what a man needs to do to keep a big bunch like this organized. His army training is to our benefit.”

Dawson seemed to soften a little then as he casually walked within the circle talking to the rest of the travelers. “I don't mean to put a damper on things, folks, but you hired me to do a job, and I intend to do it right and get all of you to Montana with as few disasters or injuries or deaths as possible. Even though thousands have gone before you, the trip isn't easy. They say some day a railroad will connect this whole country, but that's a long way off. None of us will be so lucky to travel that way, but if it happens, those of you who are already settled out west will benefit greatly from the railroad. A good share of you will end up rich business owners or landowners some day.” His gaze landed on Carolyn, Michael and Clarissa. “I hope that happens for you.” He turned away. “But first I have to get you there. The rest is up to you.”

He pulled out another list. “Now, as I introduce each family, I want you to step forward, tell us your plans for settling in Montana, then step back as I introduce the next family. By the end of this trip you will all know each other well. For now it will help to know a little bit about the others you're traveling with. Let's see here.” He studied the list a moment. “Walt and Bess Clymer and their son Stuart, from east Kansas.”

An older couple stepped forward, nodding and smiling to the others. “Ma and Pa and I are gonna build a horse ranch.” Their son spoke up for his shy parents.

“Mrs. Graham,” Dawson called, surprising Clarissa. “This young man has agreed to help guide your oxen, or Carolyn Harvey's oxen, if either of you can't do it.”

Still irritated at the suggestion she'd need help, Clarissa pushed that irritation to the side and nodded to Stuart Clymer. “Thank you,” she told him, before casting Dawson a glance that let him know she still did not appreciate his lack of faith in her abilities.

The introductions proceeded: John and Rosemarie Clay, farmers from northern Arkansas, and their children, ages four and three. Robert and Jenny Trowbridge, young newlyweds also from Arkansas, hoping to make their fortune in gold or silver. Florence and Haans Buettner, a German couple from southern Missouri who intended to open a supply store in a gold town. They had three children, ranging from three to eight, and were hauling an extra supply wagon guided by Haans's brother, Eric.

Then came Sue and Samuel McCurdy, the children of Irish immigrants, from southern Missouri, and Sue's sister Betsy and her husband, Ben Gobles. Sam was a blacksmith, Ben a gunsmith and there were five children between the two couples, from one to five years old.

Next came two more German couples. Opal and Otto Hensel had three children, six, eight and nine, and were farmers from southern Missouri. Wanda and Will Krueger, who had no children, intended to raise cattle out west, and they were herding twenty head of cattle, one bull and four calves, with the aid of Will's brother, Bert.

Then came the attorney, Peter Burkette and his wife, Blair, who had two children, a boy of three, and a daughter just one year old.

Carolyn and Michael's turn came. “I am Michael Harvey, and this is my wife, Carolyn, and our daughter, Lena,” Michael spoke up. “I am a minister and will be glad to pray with any of you who wishes. If you'd like to have services on Sunday mornings, I'll be glad to conduct them for you. I will start my own church in Montana along with ranching or farming for a living.”

Clarissa's heart pounded. She'd have to introduce herself as a woman with no husband, and before she could stop herself, she was telling everyone she was a war widow and explained she was traveling to Montana to help Michael and Carolyn with their ranch, as they were close friends. She glanced at Dawson, remembering that the day she'd bandaged his leg she'd told him her husband was not in the war. She'd never given him an explanation of whether Chad was alive or dead, or any reason for her not being with him. She could tell from Dawson's curious look that he realized she was lying and wondered why. For a moment she was petrified that he'd call her out in front of everyone and demand an explanation, considering the mood he was in, but to her great relief he said nothing.

“Well, then,” he told them all, “we've got a start at getting to know each other. We will leave here day after tomorrow. That will give all of you one more day to get acquainted and learn which children belong to whom and find ways to help each other look out for the young ones. Once we begin this journey, it's not each man for himself but all of us helping each other. Some of you will have to put up with things from the others that you don't like, but I won't have arguing or lack of cooperation from any of you. Montana is big country, so when we get there, if there is someone among us you can't stand and hope to never see again, including me, you won't have any trouble getting far away from them.”

Everyone chuckled at the remark, which eased the minor tension among them. Clarissa thought how nice it was to see that Dawson Clements actually possessed a sense of humor. “Well, since my claim is right beside yours, you'll just have to put up with me,” she told Carolyn and Michael.

The couple laughed, and Michael put out his hands to the two women. “Let's pray for a safe trip, shall we?”

Clarissa held a now-sleeping Sophie in her left arm and put her right hand in Michael's left, and Carolyn took his right hand. They bowed their heads.

“Dear Blessed Father,” Michael prayed. “Grant us safety and health on the journey ahead. Bless and protect everyone going with us, and especially bless Dawson Clements with wisdom and wise thinking and the strength he will need to get us to our destination. Lord Jesus, we pray for Mr. Clements's soul and for the secret pain he refuses to share, and we ask You to take away that pain and to guide us in Your way to find the right words that might bring this man back into Your light. And protect all the little children traveling with us, that none will suffer sickness or pain on this journey. In Christ's name we pray.”

“Amen,” the three of them said softly together.

When they looked up, Dawson Clements was standing not far away, watching them. Scowling, he turned and walked away.