Ellen slowed. “Let’s do. It’ll make the work go faster.”
Later, with Jenny accompanying them, they made their way to the Platte. It seemed every woman camping at Bessemer’s Bend, even the younger girls, clean clothes, blankets, and linens. The men were absent, working on various chores left undone while on the road. When the boys started swimming while wearing their dirtiest clothes, the youngest girls cried off of their responsibilities to join in the fun. Soon, nearly all the children played in the water downstream.
Once back at camp, Marie draped the wrung out garments to dry. Clothing and bedding covered every part of their wagon able to support them. Alone, she supposed Charles was off hunting or some other such task. Hester had disappeared soon after lunch, too. Marie gritted her teeth, putting her hands on her hips in frustration. The woman did as little as humanly possible on a trip like this. She’d find out, sooner or later, that Marie had not washed any of Hester’s clothes. How could she, when her sister-in-law had ordered her not to snoop in her belongings?
“It’s a shame to see an angry face on such a lovely day.”
Samuel’s voice startled her into first shrieking then laughing for the noise. “I was lost in my own thoughts and didn’t hear you walk up.”
He chuckled. “I can tell.”
He wore a crisp white shirt and dark denim pants. She wanted to pop one of his suspenders in mock annoyance. “How is it you’re so clean without washing a thread of clothing today?”
His expression darkened. “The secret? My wagon is full of nothing but clean clothes.”
She didn’t believe his boasting and narrowed her eyes. “I’ll bet it is.”
“I'm honest,” he said, holding up a hand as if giving an oath.
“So, in case a Sunday accidentally occurs, you’re ready?” she teased.
“Absolutely, I’m prepared for anything.”
She sighed and leaned against the only uncovered wagon wheel. “Even supper? Because I’m not, although my stomach is.”
“I’m always ready for supper, even when it’s not ready for me.” He seemed shy all of a sudden, examining the dripping blankets. “I’m thinking, after the success of this afternoon’s hunt, you might want to have dinner with us.”
“I might like that, but am not sure how Charles or Hester would feel.” She glanced around. “In fact, I don't know where they are.”
“Do they often leave you with all the washing to do?”
Marie nodded, “She more than he, certainly, but yes. We had to either sell or free our household help before leaving home. I’m afraid Hester is still very resentful.” Looking for something to do, she squeezed water from a sock. “I don’t know why. They were mine long before they were with Charles. We moved her into the guest house, and I suppose she became spoiled.” She smiled at him in reassurance and not wanting Samuel to think of her as always dour. “At any rate, we’re here now on an adventure. She forgets this at times.”
“She probably does.” He took a step back. “Please see if they’ll join you tonight at our campfire. The men are hoping to share our buffalo stew since you shared your coffee with us.”
“How kind of them, since it was only coffee. I don’t mind sharing.” She leaned in, “Will I like buffalo? I’ve never tried it before today.”
He grinned over at her. “You’ll love it, I promise.”
“About when will it be ready? I’d like to wash me since I’m the only thing not clean around here.”
“Give it a couple of hours. Maybe the other two will be back by then.” He put his hand in his pockets and took yet another step backward.
Marie tried not to smile at his reaction. He didn’t need to run away; she’d not planned on attacking him in broad daylight. “I’m sure they will. Last time I saw them, Charles was walking upstream, while Hester went downstream with a bucket. But, that was at noon. They could be anywhere by now.”
He shrugged. “If they’re not back in a while, I suppose missing supper tonight will improve their work ethic around here.”
She laughed at the notion. “Don’t give me an excuse to attend dinner without telling them anything, Mr. Granville, because I might do just that.”
“By all means, Mrs. Warren. You’re always welcome.” He turned and walked back to his camp.
She watched Samuel, enjoying how he moved. The man was certainly in fine form, Marie thought. She liked how he seemed strong without being bulky and sinewy without being stringy. Stifling a girlish sigh, she gathered the necessities for bathing. Cleaning herself in the late afternoon meant changing out in the wagon for privacy’s sake. The cramped effort of struggling out of wet clothes would be worth the clean feeling afterward.
By the time Marie had returned from the creek, Charles and Hester were in camp, starting supper. Hester had been in a snit over her clothes remaining unwashed and reminding her of her own rules hadn’t helped. She looked angry enough to spit, something Marie tried not to enjoy. Charles just waved her away when Marie told him of their dinner invitation. She went alone; glad to be away from such grouches.
A small group sat around the cook pot. No one was eating. She walked up to them, suddenly shy with everyone looking at her. “Good evening.”
Mr. Lucky bounded over to her. “Mrs. Warren! How are you? Come over here and sit next to me and Jenny. It would be best since you are friends and all. Mr. Granville says this will be your first meal of buffalo, is that right? How have you missed out so far?”
She was seated between Jenny and Samuel. Smiling at both her neighbors, she answered, “I’m fine and hope you are, too. It is my first taste of buffalo, so I’m rather excited. I don’t know how I’ve not had some before now.”
The young man settled in between Lefty and Jenny. “Probably Mr. Warren hasn’t tried hunting one, because if he shot at any sort of buffalo, he’d hit one. They’re big.”
Marie nodded. “I’ve seen them. They are very big.”
“Lucky,” Samuel said, “Why don’t you dish up you and Miss Jenny some dinner?” Quietly to Marie, he added, “He can wear you out with questions.”
“I’ve noticed.” She smiled at him. “Maybe he’ll settle down as he gets older.”
Samuel grinned. “I hope so since I doubt he could be more energetic.”
Lucky gave a meal to Jenny and Marie first since they were the only ladies present. For the men, it was an organized scuffle. Afterward, everyone stayed quiet while eating. The meat was so good that she hated having the last bite.
“I guess you like it,” said Sam.
“I did! You’re right. Buffalo is a lot like beef.”
Lucky interjected, “Boss! Tell her about the Indians today. Miss Jenny says she doesn’t know.”
“Were there Indians at camp today?”
“You brought it up, Lucky. You tell the story.” To Marie, he added, “The youngster goes to sleep sooner if he speaks all his words out during the day.”
She laughed. “Youngster? He’s what, a couple years younger than you?”
Grinning, he placed a hand over his heart. “Madam, I’m hurt. Lucky is a child.”
Fidgeting, the man in question piped up. “Come on, am I going to get to tell about the Indians or not?”
“Neither one of you are children, but you’re certainly close to the same age, aren’t you?” she asked.
“I’m a mature twenty-eight. Mr. Lucky is nineteen.”
“And I want to start the story of what we gave the Indians today, so they wouldn’t attack.”
“Yes, please do,” Marie said with a chuckle. She struggled to keep the disgust from her face as Lucky described the bloody buffalo hunt.
Samuel was younger than her by four years. She felt far past her prime, and yet she’d been a little calf-eyed over a man who wasn’t in his, yet. A little dagger of betrayal pierced her mind. She knew marrying a much older person meant a lifetime spent with a man who was more a father than a spouse. Half listening to Lucky, she nodded as he described searching
for a nearby Indian village. Marie mentally shook herself. She had no reason to dwell on age differences between her and anyone else. In five months when this trip ended, she and Charles would have their home, and Samuel would be back in his own life.
She glanced at him, wondering what life he led when not on the trail. She’d been so focused on pleasing Charles that she hadn’t considered what people did when the journey was complete. When Samuel smiled at her staring, she grinned back, embarrassed, and looked at Lucky.
“Then, while we wanted to invite them over for dinner tonight, Mr. Granville decided against it. Most of you have seen Indians before now, but he didn’t want to chance any misunderstandings. So, we traded them sugar, tobacco, and whiskey along with the rest of the buffalo.”
“Whisky?” she asked Samuel, trying not to smile.
“Not mine,” he replied. “It’s a keepsake.”
Jenny tapped Lucky’s arm to get his attention. “What did you get in trade with them?”
He shrugged. “We didn’t get goods so much as safe passage through their land.”
Shuddering in revulsion, Jenny said, “I don’t think we’ll be safe until they’re all dead.”
Before the other man could reply, Samuel interjected, “Lucky, let me answer her, please. I figured since we’re using their land and resources, they deserve payment. We’d pay any other landowner. Why not them?”
Marie saw a glint in his eyes and knew the girl hit a soft spot with Samuel. He cared about the savages. How strange. “But still, they attack.”
“Some do, yes. Before you become alarmed, you should know they usually just take what they want without asking. We also take what we want without asking, and in some cases, more than we need. No matter if they were forced or willingly gave it up, we’re traveling through the lands of their ancestors without every tribe’s permission. In any other part of the known world, that would start a war.”
With a mulish look on her face, Jenny said, “Maybe so. They could still clean up a little and wear decent clothing.”
Marie piped up to dispel the rising tension. “Wearing our clothes sounds good until practiced. I think Indians would look as ridiculous wearing pants and dresses as we would in buckskins.”
Indicating his other hired hand, Samuel said, “I can’t completely agree. I think Uncle Joe looks dashing in his buckskins.”
She smiled as everyone else nodded. “I think so, too. He’s also very well groomed.”
Jenny added, “Grooming is what I miss most about civilization. When we get to Oregon, I’m having father find the largest bathtub possible for a proper bath with warm water.”
“I have to admit, it’s something I miss as well.” Samuel stood, holding out his hand for Marie. “Lucky, would you walk the ladies back to their families? You can tell them all about Soda Springs.” He pulled her to her feet. “Meanwhile, us unfortunate men will wash up and bed down for the night.”
Lucky held out his elbows for the ladies to take. “It’ll be a pleasure, sir.” Marie and Jenny each took an arm. “The water there is bubbly from boiling, carbonation, or both. It’s interesting and easy to be poached if you fall in.”
Marie listened with half an ear to the stories of various geysers they’d later see while resisting the urge to look back at Samuel. She wanted to offer help with cleaning. A blatant effort to spend more time with him, she knew, but even chores sounded fun if he were there.
The walk to her camp wasn’t far, and as she left them, the young couple spoke almost in unison, “Good night, Mrs. Warren.”
“Goodnight, Marie.”
“Goodnight Lucky and Jenny. See you tomorrow probably.”
As they walked on, she readied for bed. Such an exciting night with all the talk of Indians, age, and naturally boiling water. She slipped into her bedroll next to Charles. He and Hester had missed a fun time. She felt bad for them, thinking the buffalo made a welcome change from salt pork.
So Samuel was only twenty-eight. No wonder Charles bristled at the younger man’s orders. Samuel and Charles’ first two sons were around the same age. Marie sighed. Thinking about those boys and their sister could keep her awake all night. The family was a mess before she ever married into it. Nothing she’d done improved the relationships, while leaving Louisiana helped a little.
Frustrated with how her thoughts buzzed in her mind, Marie imagined how a bath in soda water might feel. She drifted off wondering if the bubbles tickled.
A short rain woke everyone with its damp chill. Coffee made the Warrens bearable to Marie, but without it, she found it best to avoid them. Skipping breakfast entirely, she walked along the grassy and sandy hills, picking flowers. Little minnows darted in the crisp and clear spring. The water tasted as crisp as it looked. She smiled a greeting when seeing others on the opposite bank taking the chance to fill their water barrels and cooking pots. Meandering back to camp, she saw the first of their group boarding the ferry. Panicked and trying not to be, she hurried to find her own family, hoping they’d not crossed yet.
Charles saw her and yelled, “There you are! Where the hell have you been? Hester is out looking for you.”
“I am so sorry, dearest!” She hurried to where he stood. “Everyone said to be ready by this afternoon. I didn’t expect…”
“I don’t care.” His voice rising, he continued, “We have to contend with you either being in the way or not available for us on a daily basis. I don’t know how many times we’ve had to sit and wait on you, or hurry so you are not bothered.” A whistle from the ferryman caught his attention. “Damn it all,” he muttered before turning back to her. “I’ll search for Hessy. You make sure the oxen and rigging get across. Keep to the right, and we’ll catch up to you yet again.” After digging around in his pocket, Charles handed her some money. “Here’s the fare. Give it directly to the ferryman and try not to drop it. We need every penny.”
He left before letting her reply, so Marie closed her mouth without a squeak. Charles had never been violent, rarely became angry, and she was never actually scared. Yet, as she handed the gentleman their fee, her hand still shook. The oxen followed her up the ramp, onto the ferry, and remained docile while afloat. The short trip ended almost before it had begun, and she led the animals away and to the right as Charles had instructed.
More and more people crossed, the Warrens not among any of them. She waited for a while, growing more restless along with the animals. Their stock had swum over, she’d noticed, a half hour or so ago, by Granville’s men. They continued to work the small herds across as each family joined the others on the southwest bank. When she thought the last of their group had joined them, the twins walked up, both frowning.
“I’m sure Charles already spoke to you?” Hester asked.
“He did. I’m sorry.” Lucky’s bugle sound stopped Marie for a moment. “I’ll try to do better at being available.”
She walked to the front of the wagon without a reply, leaving her brother to say, “At least you’re here, now. Thank you for that.”
“You’re very welcome.” Marie stayed back a little as the wagon lurched forward. She should have gone ahead to avoid the choking dust. Sighing, she instead walked to the side of everyone, hoping to find fresh air to breathe.
The hard ground stretched barren for miles. Even the sagebrush and cactus thinned to sparse, and the grass disappeared. Looking ahead, what she considered mountains seemed so close yet took days to reach. Every so often, the livestock scattered, and she’d see Sam and his men scramble to retrieve them back into the herd. The afternoon lasted forever and all uphill.
They stopped late evening at last. Willow Springs, while crowded with others, had the last fresh water until Sweetwater River. Marie went to the creek with a pail, dismayed to see how muddy and churned the water was from all the activity. She’d hoped they’d have a good drink tonight without grit. Too tired to complain, she let the silt settle a little before starting supper.
Marie tried to appreciate the sun
set but couldn’t keep her eyes open. Reluctant to talk with the Warrens or be social with anyone else, she readied for bed. The dishes could wait. She’d be good with Hester leaving them for her just so she’d get to sleep right now.
Waking up to a beautiful morning, she smiled until trying to walk. While washing last night’s crusty dishes, she learned that yesterday’s roads had bruised everyone’s feet. She saw others use pebbles and sand for scrubbing their breakfast plates and did the same. By lunch, she’d regret not eating now, but with the bugle sounding and Charles’s lecture yesterday, she didn’t delay.
Along the rocky trail, Marie and the others passed various grave markers. Most had wooden crosses, others discernible by nothing more than a mound of rocks. Each one, no matter who they’d been, saddened her. The person started with a hope for a new life, she imagined, only to have it end far short. All the reminders of death had disturbed her, but none as much as the eight in front of her now. The graves looked weathered by a few years. She wondered how long ago they’d passed and what happened. After a while she continued on, still full of questions with no answers.
The train had moved steadily since Willow Creek. She noticed later in the morning the ground seemed covered in ashes. Samuel had said this would happen since the soil was rich in alkali, so much so, the standing water was poisonous. She’d heard second hand how he wanted people to wait until after Poison Creek to drink the available water. What the various marshes and pools held could make them ill. Samuel’s instructions were to drink milk instead of water from the stagnant pools of alkali.
Despite this, she’d seen several people ignore the warning. The animals wandering to the seeping spring water she understood, but she had no sympathy for those ignoring the advice to wait until the river. They drank from the trickles of old rainwater standing in the dry creek beds. Protesting the water tasted fine and that Granville was an old woman about the matter, no one became sick right away, seeming to make Samuel a liar. Marie glanced at one of the wagons, most of the family members now ill.
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