by Emily Woods
When Preacher John had finished reading, he looked up at the circle of listeners.
“The apostle Paul's words have meaning today, for us,” he declared loud enough for everyone to hear, but his voice was gentle. “An enemy is anyone who wishes to do us harm or who has done harm to people like us. I know some of you heard about what happened here two years back, but I would urge you not to think about revenge. God will repay the evil done. It's not up to us. As brothers and sisters of Christ, we are to live peacefully with all men, and that includes Indians. We are to do good to everyone, even our enemies.”
Henry couldn't help but struggle with the message. It was on the tip of his tongue to argue, but he managed to hold his tongue...barely.
When the preacher finished talking and then led them in a short prayer, a few people stayed behind to talk. Henry found himself walking towards the preacher, almost without his own knowledge. When the man turned to him with a gracious smile, the words of accusation nearly died on his lips, but not quite.
“Preacher, are you really telling us that we should give food to the Indians if they shoot arrows at us? That we shouldn't hit back? I mean, of course I won't shoot if they are peaceful, but are we supposed to do nothing while we're slaughtered?”
His voice had lowered as he spoke because he was mindful of the women and children standing nearby. The preacher's face didn't change. He gave him an understanding look.
“It's not always easy to understand what God wants of us, but my message tonight was meant to inspire peaceful thoughts, not just towards the natives of this land but also in our hearts. I know that many in this camp want to seek out justice for the wrongs that happened in the past, and a hard heart is often quick to act.”
The reasonable words wound around his own hard heart and he calmed down. “Well, okay. That kind of falls in line with what I was thinking, but...”
Preacher John tilted his head. “What is it? You can speak freely.”
His mouth twisted a little. Was he really going to bring this up now? “Well, my brothers heard you speak a few nights ago about God's plans for their lives. I can't really understand how we can have free will if God's already got everything figured out for us.”
The older man nodded. “Yes, that's a matter that has had many men puzzled over the years. Shall I give you my understanding on the matter?”
Henry wasn't sure he was ready for a sermon, but since he'd asked, what could he do but nod?
“It seems to me that God will allow us to follow our own desires, but ultimately, He wants us to follow His path. He has a plan for our lives, a good one, and if we listen to Him, we'll find that path. However, if we insist on rejecting the Bible and the plans He has for our lives, He will not prevent us.”
“But what if one man's plans end up ruining what God has for someone else?”
He was thinking about how his brothers' plans had changed. Was that because God wanted them to go a different way? And what about him? He had changed his plans too. His case was a little different because he was still going to California ultimately, but why had he suddenly changed his mind about leaving after Raft River? And where would all this lead?
Originally, he'd thought that the memory of his father's words had influenced him, but why had he suddenly thought of that? Could it be that God had put it in his mind?
The preacher was talking, but Henry was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he didn't catch everything.
“We won't always be able to understand everything God does, but when we learn to trust that His plan for us is good, we will experience peace. Does that make sense?”
Henry nodded, not so much because he agreed or even understood, but because he couldn't really think of how else to respond.
“Uh, thanks for your time, Preacher. I guess I'll be turning in now.”
As he began walking towards his wagon, he caught Margie looking in his direction. She gave him a quizzical look. He wished he could go talk to her, but his heart was too confused. It seemed that everything he'd held onto was unraveling, and he needed to go sort things out.
Sending her a tight smile and a bit of a nod, he continued on his way. He would not try to talk any more about this tonight.
After cleaning up the site and making sure the fire was out, Henry was about to get into the tent alongside his brothers, but he knew that sleep would not come. So, instead, he walked around the wagon and found his horse grazing on the lush vegetation.
“Wish I had so few cares,” he mumbled, stroking the horse's muzzle.
The horse nickered a little and pushed his nose against Henry's chest, possibly looking for some kind of treat.
Laughing quietly, Henry said, “Sorry, buddy. Nothing left but whatever you can find on the ground.”
It struck him then how little it took for his horse to feel content. If only he could be so easily satisfied, perhaps he could enjoy the same peace.
“Can't sleep either?”
Henry turned to see Michael leaning against the wagon.
“What's on your mind, brother?” he asked mildly. “I wouldn't think you had any worries.”
Michael snorted a little. “What makes you say that? I have a lot of things to think about. When we get to Oregon, I'll have to build a house, get equipment, and decide what I'm going to on my piece of land. I haven't settled on farming or ranching yet.”
Henry chuckled. “I don't think you have the finances or the know-how to ranch, so you'd better stick to farming. I’m sure you’ll do alright with that.”
A lopsided grin appeared on his brother’s face. “Yeah, you're probably right. Gabe and me are hoping to get claims next to one another. That way we can help work each other's land.”
“Sounds reasonable,” Henry replied. “Good plan.”
Michael nodded. “Yep.” There was a bit of a pause before he continued. “Sure would be good if we had three people, though. That'd make getting started a whole lot easier.”
So that was the reason he was up, to try to convince Henry to stay. He had to give his brother credit. He sure was stubborn.
“You know what, Michael? Let's just see if we make it through this trip alive, and then we'll decide what to do. I'm not saying I'll stay, but I don't feel like I know my own mind anymore, so let's just wait and see.”
Even in the falling darkness, Henry saw Michael's face light up. “Alright, Henry. That's reasonable. Well, I'm going to turn in. Good night.”
Henry said the same, but didn't move to turn in.
He still had a lot of thinking to do.
6
The next day, the livestock seemed to be refreshed, and the travelers did too, so they made good progress despite the rocky terrain. Once again, Henry had offered Margie his horse, and once again, her mother and sister had accepted on her behalf.
“I'm sorry that you have to walk again,” Margie murmured as he ambled beside the horse. “I feel terrible putting you out this way.”
“But you're not, are you? It was my choice to offer the horse. Anyway, I could feel myself getting a bit flabby from sitting down all day.”
Margie's eyes widened, and she was about to protest when she caught the look on his face.
“Oh! You're joking,” she exclaimed. She wasn't sure why, but the idea of Henry joking surprised her. She thought he was a very intense person, not given to lighthearted conversation.
“A little bit. But honestly, walking yesterday was good for me. I didn't mind it at all. And, well, it made me glad to do something for you. You've had a rough time.”
She was genuinely touched at his consideration. “Yes, but maybe I needed it,” she murmured softly, looking off in the distance. “I've been a very willful person most of my life, and I guess I needed to be humbled.”
The words were barely out of her mouth when she gasped. Why had she made such a deep confession to him? She held her breath while waiting for his response.
“I don't know about all that, Miss Margie, but I will say one thing: y
ou seem happier or something.”
Turning her gaze from the mountains to Henry, she gave him a thoughtful look. “Happier? I don't know about that, but I do feel something different. It's as though I have more...peace.”
He nodded. “Yeah, that's seems right. You didn't seem real peaceful before.”
There was a pause in their conversation, but it wasn't awkward. Strangely enough, she felt quite comfortable with Henry's outspoken manner. He wasn't insulting or nasty, but he was honest, and that was refreshing. For so long, people had tiptoed around her, unwilling to tell her things directly because that often resulted in her wrath, but Henry had no knowledge of her past, so he said what was on his mind. She felt her spirits lift and something warm entered her heart.
However, a shout in front of them disturbed their peaceful interlude. Margie spotted a band of natives up ahead who were riding towards their wagon train rather quickly, and she saw Eugene Howard reach for his gun.
“No!” Henry called out. “Don't!”
Since Margie was on his horse, he had to sprint ahead to knock the gun from the man's hand. It fired and ricocheted off the sides of the mountains, causing some of the rocks to fall. They must have hit something else, because soon, there were a number of rocks tumbling down and heading straight towards them.
Henry jumped up and raced back to Margie, but instinct had kicked in and Ranger raced away from the danger. The other animals in the wagon train did the same, creating chaos in their wake. Margie didn’t know what to do, but held on as tightly as she could to the horse’s mane.
Screams and noise filled the air and Margie’s brain couldn’t even register what was happening. Her own mouth opened to scream, but no sound came out.
Less than a minute later, the rocks stopped, but the damage had been done. Wagons were overturned with people lying under them. Moans and cries could be heard coming from among the rubble. Ranger stopped a short distance away, and Margie forced herself to get down and walk on trembling legs towards the scene that had gone from tranquil to horrific in less than two minutes.
She heard a moan from a pile of rocks near her and fell to her knees. Even though she could barely think, her hands did the work, lifting away the debris without ceasing until a face appeared.
“Lily!” she exclaimed, her heart beating rapidly. “Hold on. I'll have you out of there in a minute.”
However, some of the rocks were too heavy for her to move.
“Help! Somebody! I need help here!”
Within seconds, someone else was by her side. She didn't register who it was, but just kept digging away until the girl was free. She was barely conscious, but she was alive.
“We shouldn't move her.” Margie looked up to see Henry, his face grim. “Stay with her, and I'll try to find your father.”
He disappeared then, and she looked around, wondering if there was something else she could do while she waited.
“Mama?” a little boy cried out. Robbie, Emma Pearson's youngest boy, was wandering around, his face smudge with dirt and tears. “Mama? Where are you?”
“Robbie?” she called out to him. “Are you hurt?”
Dazed, he looked at her and frowned. “Where is my mama?” he asked, his voice quivering.
“I don't know, sweetheart, but come sit with me. You'll be safe here until she can find you. If you walk around, you might miss each other.”
He nodded obediently, taking the hand she held out to him. Sinking down to the ground beside her, his eyes fell on Lily.
“Is she going to be okay?” he asked.
“I hope so.” There were a number of people crying and calling out for loved ones.
Then Margie saw something that her brain refused to comprehend. The band of braves was walking around among them. Were they there to take their horses...or worse? Stories of the horrors that had been committed by various groups of Indians raced through her mind. Was this the end of their lives?
Quickly, she prayed for God to help them, to spare them.
“Come on, Peter,” she urged the boy. “Let's close our eyes and pray. Put your head down in my lap.”
If they were to be killed by these ferocious-looking men, it would be better if they didn't see it coming.
Again, Peter obeyed.
“Dear Father in Heaven,” Margie murmured. “Please hear our prayers. We need Your angels to come and help us. Protect us and our loved ones. Help Peter's mother and brother to come quickly.”
She kept praying, eyes closed, one hand holding onto Peter's and the other holding onto Lily's.
She prayed...and waited.
Henry couldn't find the doctor. He started to run through the wagon train, but everywhere he went, there was someone in need. He stopped several times to help get someone out from under something or other. It seemed like every other person was in need.
Then he saw something that made him gasp aloud. The group of Indians that had been riding towards them dismounted from their horses and ran over. Working quickly, they began to help the people who were trapped. Four men lifted a wagon, and a stunned child crawled out from underneath. One of the men crouched down and began examining the boy’s limbs with great tenderness. Another two began digging a woman out from under a pile of rocks.
Henry's heart swelled up so much, he thought it was going to leap out of his chest.
“Thank you, God,” he murmured, tears forming under his eyelids, barely aware of his own uttering. He rushed up to help one native who was trying to get another wagon upright. A woman lay crumpled in a heap on the ground, and another Indian rushed forward to examine her. He put his head to her chest and frowned.
He made some comment in his language, but of course, Henry could not understand.
“He said her heartbeat is very weak.” Captain Holt had suddenly appeared at his side. “He is looking for her injury.”
The man carefully and respectfully lifted each limb and found that the woman was bleeding profusely from her left leg. He ripped a length of material from her skirt and bound it around the wound. Eugene arrived just as he was finishing up.
“What's going on here?” he screamed. “Tell him to get off her!”
The man was taking water out of a pouch from his side and applying it to the woman's temples and then trying to dribble a little into her mouth when Eugene lunged, but both the captain and Henry grabbed him.
“Are you crazy, man? He and the others just saved her life! Look at her leg!”
Eugene looked down, wild-eyed. Henry now realized that the woman was Eugene’s wife, a fact which made the man even more frantic.
“Tom!” Holt called out to his assistant. “Tom, can you hear me?”
The young man appeared at his side almost instantly. “Yes, Captain?”
“Take Eugene away from here and under no circumstances let him come back. Tie him up if you need to, but secure him and keep him away.”
At first, Tom didn't seem to comprehend what was being asked of him, either that or he didn't believe it, but one glance at Holt's face propelled him into motion.
The captain exchanged a few more words with the brave who had been tending Mrs. Howard and then nodded.
“He said that we need to elevate her leg and get her out of the sun. Since nothing else is broken from what he can tell, we can move her.”
Between the two of them, they carefully brought her into the shade, and several other women rushed forward to care for her. For a moment, the two men simply observed the scene before their eyes. Many wagons were overturned, livestock was scattered, and people were crying and moaning everywhere they looked.
One of the braves took out a horn and blew into it, three short blasts and then a long one. The sound was startling to say the least, and Henry had no idea what to make of it, but Captain Holt frowned.
“He's calling others. I think it's a good thing, but you can never tell.”
“It must be,” Henry contended. “Why would they be helping if it's their intention to slaughter us?”
The other man nodded. “I'm sure you're right.”
And he was. Within twenty minutes or so, more than a dozen other Indians arrived at the scene and began to help out. Some women took things out of pouches and applied them to cuts and scrapes. Others were getting people to drink something.
It was at that point that Henry finally managed to locate Dr. Taylor.
“Thank God you’re alright!” the man exclaimed. “Do you know where Margie is?”
Henry nodded. “My horse took off with her, but she’s fine. Lily Howard needs your help.”
He led the doctor to the spot he’d left Margie and was surprised to see Emma Pearson’s little boy huddled up in her lap. The two of them were staring around wide-eyed.
“They’re helping,” Margie whispered, her eyes glazed over. “We thought they were our enemies, but they’re not. They’re helping.”
“She must be in shock,” the doctor declared. “She’ll need some…”
“I’m not in shock, Father,” she interrupted softly. “I’m amazed. All this time we were so worried about Indian attacks, and it was one of our own who nearly killed us all.”
Dr. Taylor knelt down beside Margie, his lips pressed tightly together as though he was trying to hold in his emotions. “Yes, daughter, you’re right. Now, can you move to the side? I need to check Lily.”
Margie complied, but continued to speak.
“An Indian woman came by and gave her something. I don’t know what it was, but it made her breathe more easily. And her heart rate is stronger.”
Henry stood by, his heart full of gratitude. He just wished he had somewhere to extend it.
7
Hours after the tragedy, a hush had fallen over the wagon train. The Indians had left some compounds with the doctor and then left as quickly and quietly as they’d come.
Captain Holt said that they would stay in the canyon to repair what they could, but it was clear that many wagons would be lost. The group had become close, and families whose wagons were still operable quickly offered to carry the items belonging to those whose wagons were clearly beyond repair.
