Westward Hearts (22 page)

“Hello, Eli,” she said as she carried the ingredients over to the kitchen board alongside her parents’ wagon.

“Oh, hello.” Eli looked up from where he was showing JT something on the guitar. “I didn’t know if any of the grown-ups were around.”

“Matthew and Brady are rotating the livestock to a new pasture, and my father’s helping Paddy McIntire with his team. Paddy isn’t very experienced with driving yet.”

Eli frowned. “Don’t know why folks decide to go west when they don’t even know how to properly drive a team.”

“I’m sure Paddy can learn to drive.”

Eli’s brow creased as if he was unsure.

“Eli knows how to play the guitar,” JT told her. “He just showed me how to play an A chord.”

“Thank you for helping,” she told Eli. “My brother plays fiddle, and he’s trying to help JT, but—”

“But a fiddle’s not the same as a guitar,” JT finished.

“Maybe we can play music out on the trail sometime,” Eli told JT. “That’s the best way to learn, just playing with others.”

“Sure, I’d like that.” JT nodded eagerly. “Anytime!”

Now Eli looked at Elizabeth. “Can you give your father a message for me?”

“Certainly.”

“Tell him we’ll be by around three o’clock for weapons inspection.”

“Weapons inspection?”

He nodded then tipped his hat. “Your father will understand.”

“All right.” For the sake of the children, she tried not to look as alarmed as she felt.

“Do you want us to save you some stew?” Ruth offered.

Eli grinned. “That’s mighty tempting, little lady, but I don’t want to be any trouble.”

“It’s no trouble,” Elizabeth assured him.

Eli nodded. “Well, then I might just take you up on that offer. If it tastes half as good as it smells, it might be the best meal I’ve had in days.” His blue eyes twinkled as he smiled at her, and to her surprise, an unexpected warm rush ran through her. And it had been chilly all day.

It was past two by the time they started cleaning up the dinner things, but Elizabeth set a generous tin bowl of stew by the fire to stay warm. She wasn’t sure if Eli really intended on eating it, but she hoped he would.

“Why are you having a weapons inspection?” she quietly asked Asa as he was laying his guns out on the table.

“As you know, part of the agreement for traveling with this wagon train is that each wagon must carry adequate firearms. Partly for hunting purposes and partly for protection…”

“Protection from what?” Even though she knew the answer, she couldn’t help but ask.

“Wild animals…and the possibility of an Indian attack.”

“Is that very likely?”

“Not very. But our preparedness is critical to our success, Lizzie. You know that.”

She nodded. “Yes, I suppose I do. It’s just that now that we’re so close to actually leaving…well, I just want to be sure.”

“Are you having second thoughts?” His brows arched.

She glanced over to where Ruth was happily helping Clara wash dishes and then over to where JT was bundling firewood for the trip. She shook her head. “No, Father, I know we’re doing the right thing.”

“The reason we’re having the inspection is to be sure that all the firearms are in good working order and that everyone knows how to maintain them.” He plunged a cleaning rod down the barrel of his shotgun. “We also want to be sure that everyone is comfortable using their weapons.”

Now Flax began to bark, announcing that others were coming into their camp, carrying various weapons with them. It was somewhat startling to see all these guns in one place, almost as if they were getting ready for battle. “I guess I should go get my own guns,” she said quietly.

“And Jamie’s.” He cleared his throat. “I mean, JT’s.”

As Elizabeth went to fetch the guns, she experienced an unwanted and frightening vision—her only son crouched behind the wagon with his rifle as a war party of Indians galloped toward him. She shook her head. That was ridiculous. Unrealistic. First of all, JT would never be alone like that. The wagon train was filled with grown men, all of them fully armed. And everyone knew that tales of Indian attacks were always exaggerated and sensationalized in newspapers, all for the purpose of thrilling the readers.

When she returned with her guns, still wrapped in the quilt she’d packed them in, a couple dozen fellow travelers were gathering around Captain Brownlee. Eli was standing nearby and, to her surprised amusement, had the tin bowl of stew in his hand. Probably Ruth’s doing. But as Elizabeth got closer to the group, she felt stunned. She couldn’t remember ever seeing so many guns in one place before. JT was standing next to Matthew, watching on with youthful curiosity as the captain thanked them all for coming.

“As you know, we’ll be leaving tomorrow morning,” he said. “But before we’re officially on the trail, I insist on seeing that every wagon is properly armed. You all signed an agreement with me, but over the years I’ve learned to take nothing for granted. And as you know, I’m a military man. I take this weapons inspection very seriously. Any traveling party unable to hold up their end of the bargain will not go with us.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve already removed two wagons from this expedition.”

Faces in the crowd went from mild interest to concerned angst. Even Elizabeth felt anxious. Her gun skills were far from polished. She was fairly comfortable with the old shotgun, and her father had taught her how to clean and maintain guns, but the rifle and handgun were still relatively new to her. What if she didn’t measure up to the captain’s high expectations?

“You might find this hard to believe,” the captain continued, “but emigrants are about as likely to die from an accident as from an Indian raid.”

“What kind of accidents?” Bert Flanders asked.

“There’s the usual drowning and snakebite death…” The captain looked evenly around the group. “But more commonly is from a gun.”

“Are you saying emigrants shoot each other?” one of the adolescent Bostonians asked.

“Not usually.” The captain shook his head. “Although it has happened on occasion. More likely, an emigrant hasn’t properly cleaned his gun. Or he’s misloaded it. Or the gun goes off accidentally. This is why Eli and I will be looking at your weapons and asking you some questions. Now if we could form two lines, we’ll begin our inspections. Everyone over the age of eighteen will please fall in.”

Elizabeth started to get in the captain’s line, but seeing Gertie heading that direction, she decided to go for Eli’s line instead.

“I really don’t know much about guns,” Flo quietly confessed to Elizabeth as they stood in the back of the line together. “Bert’s real good with firearms though. And he took some time to teach Mahala how to shoot last fall.” Flo looked at the handgun she was holding and frowned. “I sure hope I don’t let anyone down.”

“Do you know how to load it?” Elizabeth asked.

“Oh, sure. Bert’s been helping me with that part. And I know how to clean it too. It’s just the shooting part that worries me.”

“Well, I don’t think the captain is going to make us shoot,” Elizabeth assured her.

“No, it doesn’t seem like it.” Flo sighed. “And he already checked our ammunition and food supply when we got here. Otherwise, he wouldn’t let us join the train.”

Now Ruby, Doris, and Jess came over to stand in line with them. “Evangeline is feeling better,” Ruby told them. “But she’s still resting. I hope the captain won’t mind she’s not here.”

“I’m sure he’ll understand.” Elizabeth pointed at the women’s impressive-looking handguns. “And you look sufficiently armed. But I know you’re from the city. Do you really know how to shoot?”

Ruby laughed. “We most certainly do.”

Doris held up her gun now, narrowing her eyes and taking aim at a stump. “Bang,” she said. “You’re dead.” Then she blew the end of the barrel and lowered the gun, and the women laughed.

“And you know how to load and clean them too?” Elizabeth quizzed them.

“No worries there either,” Doris assured her.

Ruby jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “And Jess is a real good shot with that rifle too.”

“It’s those Boston folks that worry me,” Doris confided. “I heard Lavinia Prescott saying how she’d never touched a gun in her life.”

“And her husband don’t look like he’d know one end of the gun from the other,” Flo said quietly.

Elizabeth looked at the Bostonians standing together in the captain’s line. “But at least they have some fine-looking guns. I’ll bet they’re brand-new.”

“Probably never even been fired,” Flo said. “I was hoping to have more confidence in my fellow travelers.”

“Well, maybe they can learn,” Ruby said. “If they’re half as smart as they’re dressed, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

Again the women laughed. And now Clara came over to join them. She had a small rifle in hand. “Asa told me I can’t get out of this,” she said a bit nervously. “I hope they won’t make us shoot.”

“You’re a good shot, Mother.” Elizabeth patted her on the back. “And you know how to clean and load. Really, you have nothing to worry about.”

The line slowly shortened, and when Elizabeth finally reached the front, she let her mother go ahead of her. “That way you can go put your feet up for a while before supper.”

Clara laid her gun in front of Eli, and Elizabeth listened from behind her as Eli asked some basic gun questions. He asked how much black powder she used for one shot and where she kept the powder and how often she cleaned it. Eventually he seemed satisfied, and Clara turned around and smiled. “Now, that wasn’t too bad.”

Elizabeth just nodded as she moved forward with her quilted bundle. She laid it on the table as if it were a sleeping baby, a little embarrassed. “I suppose I should have left the quilt behind.”

“That’s actually a good way to protect the guns from moisture,” he told her as she unrolled it to reveal the first rifle.

He examined the firearms and asked her the same questions he’d asked her mother. “Are you a good shot?” he said finally.

She shrugged. “I’m all right.”

“What about Brady?”

Now Elizabeth felt nervous. Was this a trick question? She knew that some people would throw a fit to see a Negro man with a gun. It could be just the sort of problem that would get her family removed from the wagon train. “What do you mean?” she asked quietly.

“I haven’t seen Brady at the weapons inspection. Does he have a gun? Can he shoot?”

She glanced around to see if anyone else was listening, but she was the only one left in the line. Feeling extremely uneasy, she looked directly into Eli’s eyes, wondering if she could trust him.

“I need to know the truth, Mrs. Martin.”

“The truth is…” She bit her lip then lowered her voice. “After my husband passed…I was alone on the farm.” She cleared her throat. “What I’m trying to say is that Brady knows how to use a gun.”

Eli just nodded. “Will he be carrying a gun?”

Elizabeth hadn’t actually given this any thought. “Should he be?”

His brow grew thoughtful. “Not unless he’s out hunting. But if he’s driving your wagon, he should have a gun nearby…within reach.”

“That’s not a problem.”

“And he should be comfortable with loading and everything else that I’ve quizzed you about. Are you confident of his skills?”

“I am.” She nodded firmly. “And I’ll ask my father to help with this.”

“Good.”

She sighed. “Is that all?”

“For now.”

She began to wrap up her guns again, but she could feel him watching her, and her hands felt clumsy as she tried to hurry up the process. Finally she stopped and, looking at him, she realized that he was watching her with what seemed amusement.

“Am I entertaining you?” she asked with mild irritation.

He stood and smiled. “I’m sorry. I was just trying to imagine you a few months from now.”

She continued wrapping the guns, finally getting the bundle secure enough to pick up. “How do you imagine I will be?” She stood up straight with the heavy bundle in her arms, looking defiantly into his clear blue eyes.

“I imagine you will be tougher and dirtier with a little more grist to you.”

“Grist?”

“I’m curious, Mrs. Martin. What do you intend to do in the Oregon Territory?”

“Farm.”

He just nodded, folding the paper that he’d been writing his gun inspections notes on and slowly standing. “You make a fine bowl of stew, ma’am.”

“Thank you,” she murmured.

“Thank
you.”
He grinned. “And I wish you an uneventful journey.”

She wasn’t sure how to respond to that. And so she simply thanked him again, and shifting her bulky bundle of guns to the other side, she headed back to her wagon. But as she set the bundle inside, her face felt flushed and warm. Strange…it was a cool and damp day. She hoped she wasn’t coming down with something.

A
t last, at last—they were finally on their way! Elizabeth had felt a mixture of jubilance, high anxiety, and impatience when her wagon started to roll that morning. Unit five was currently occupying the tail end of the train, so they didn’t actually pull out until nearly eight. However, she and JT and Brady had gotten the team hitched and ready to go at the “crack of dawn,” just as her father had instructed. After that, JT noticed that Ruby and Jess, whose wagon was behind them, were struggling to hitch up their own team, and he went over to offer his assistance. Elizabeth couldn’t have been prouder of her boy. Asa went over to supervise but soon returned to assure Elizabeth that JT had gotten it just right. “He’s a smart lad.”