Uncle Joe snickered. “Not even after asking so nicely?”
He shook his head. “No, I have a rule about scrapping with my clients. We can find more productive ways to spend the day.”
Arnold walked up with Lefty, saying, “My rifle could use a cleaning.”
“Mine, too,” the other man chimed in. “One of my reins is fraying at the bit and needs repair, too.”
“Do the rest of you all have things to do?” Sam asked. Seeing everyone else nod, he added, “All right, we’ll take it easy this afternoon.” He dug around in the wagon for a couple of blankets and his journal. With a comfortable seat, he settled in to update his notes on their journey. Time passed, the food smelling better every hour it simmered. He finished writing at last. After capping the inkwell, Sam flexed his cramped fingers. The others had wandered around doing their chores, he’d noticed, but so focused for so long, he felt as if just waking up from a nap.
Uncle Joe sat upwind from the fire on his own bedroll like Sam, reading a book. He paused every few minutes to stir the beans and check the cobbler.
Sam stood up to put his journal and pen back into the wagon. “Dinner smells great, Joe. Tell me it’s ready.”
“It’s ready.” He chuckled at his boss’s laugh. “It really is, no lie.”
Since he was already nearby, Sam brought out the usual plates and utensils. Everyone else in the group appeared as if his rattling the metal items was a dinner bell. He grinned when seeing how fast they sat around the fire. Without a pause, he handed everyone a plate and fork. Keeping one for him and one for Uncle Joe, he waited his turn for the baked beans and cornbread. Hunger and eating kept them all quiet for a while.
“That peach cobbler is looking good,” said Arnold.
“Hand over your plate, Arnie, and I’ll set you up.” Joe held a big scoop of fruit and crust, plopping it on the younger man’s empty dish.
In one motion, everyone else did the same, ready for dessert. Sam’s eating slowed, his stomach almost too full. Unwilling to waste the least crumb, he ate the last couple of bites. “Joe, you’ve outdone yourself.”
Lucky stood. “I’d be willing to knock off early every day for a meal like this.”
They all said their agreements over each other, but Sam knew better. He also stood, getting the water bucket. “I’d give you three days before you were all itching to make real tracks.”
Shrugging, Lefty added, “We’d be out of canned peaches in a week. Might as well get home sooner rather than later.”
The pail loaded down with dishes, Sam picked up the empty cook pot and made his way to the river. Seeing Marie seated on the graveled bank and wrapped in a blanket, he hesitated. No one else was close to her. She might want her privacy, but a small greeting before he cleaned up might not bother her. He didn’t like the idea of scaring her, so he made extra noise on his way to the water’s edge.
As he approached, Marie turned her face to him and said, “Hello.”
He settled beside her. “Hello.”
“The mosquitoes are horrible. They’re why I’m wearing this,” she said and held up her arms a little.
“I figured as much.” He paused in washing the cook pot and leaned on her. “You’re too sweet to be out here unprotected.”
Laughing, she pushed him back upright. “You don’t seem bothered by them. I suppose they find you sour?”
He shrugged, going back to work. “Maybe, most likely I’m salty.”
“You can’t be serious!” She glanced at him and gave his arm a playful pinch. “Oh, you aren’t!”
Her statement stirred his curiosity. “I must be. Since our kiss, I’ve thought of nothing else.” Sam looked at her while putting the silverware in the pail. Even in the dim light, her face glowed with a blush.
“I’m not sure that’s good.”
Unsure of what else to say, he continued washing dishes. Sam enjoyed the time to just be near her. The last dish washed, he searched for and could find no good excuse to stay when other chores needed doing. “I suppose I’d better head back to camp for the night. May I escort you there?”
“You could in a little while if you stayed a minute or so more. I want to be away from the Warrens for a few moments.” After a slight pause, she said, “Going back to the campsite and listening to the Warrens go on about their own concerns, well, it’s unbearable tonight.”
Her reluctance to join her family bothered him. If she made a habit of avoiding others then somehow got lost, he’d never forgive himself. To stop a problem before it started, he asked, “Why tonight? You seem happy most times. Warren doesn’t speak to you as I would to my own wife, but seems respectful most times.”
Marie turned from him for just a moment. Facing forward, she replied, “They act as if this is some grand adventure and on a holiday when it isn't.” She stared up at the stars. “He’s made a lot of changes in our lives in the past few months. I’ve gone from plantation to wagon in that time with no influence over my own fate. Hester has had more input than I have in all this. Which is galling when I consider it’s my life, too. I feel as if I should have had more say-so over everything in the past year.” She gave him a watery smile, eyes brimming with tears. “I’m sure this is a common complaint among the women on this journey.”
His mind reeled. Plantation to wagon? He imagined living in a southern mansion and then trying to share an oversized cart with two other people. The change had to be overwhelming. Before thinking of the impropriety of his question, he blurted, “Marie, why did he give up his home and land? As much as such a sale would make a man, why are you three traveling across the country? A steamer ship to Panama and then to Oregon is so much faster. It’s how I go in the winter to get to Missouri.”
She didn’t reply, instead wrapping the blanket closer around herself. After a while, she said, “As forward as I’ve been with you before now, I suppose there’s no reason to not answer. It’s just too difficult for me to say aloud at the moment. Suffice it to say, a steamer ship was not an option.”
Her tone was sweet, but he felt chastised just the same. “I’m sorry, my question was too personal.”
“It’s getting late, so I’m tired and out of sorts.” She took off the blanket and patted his knee. “Before we leave, let’s agree no apologies are necessary.” Marie stood and began folding the cover.
He also stood. “I’ll walk you back, Mrs. Warren.”
“Thank you.” She gave him an ornery glance. “Some of the ladies, me included, want to visit the Indian trading post tomorrow. It’s the closest a few have ever been to the natives. Even Hester mentioned rising from her deathbed to go.”
“Has she been ill?”
“Very. The further we go, the more she’s allergic to chores.” She waited until Sam quit laughing. “When Ellen suggested you might escort us there, Hester improved substantially.”
The idea of such a woman hankering for him disgusted Sam. He struggled to keep his face from showing his feelings. “The poor woman; she’ll be so disappointed at having to stay behind for whatever reason I can invent.”
Marie stared at him openmouthed then laughed. “I’m glad your eyesight is perfect. Besides, Ellen is much prettier and likes you. Jenny is taken, I’m afraid. The other girls, well, they are a little young.
He smiled, enjoying how a lovely woman like Ellen fancied him. “Has Miss Winslow said anything to you specifically about me?”
“Oh my! You are the charmer, aren’t you?” She lowered her voice as they passed a group of people hosting a church service. “She’s not been overt, no, but has mentioned a few nice things about you.”
He caught the tremble in her smile and wanted to reassure her of his feelings. A raucous bunch nearby kept him quiet until they walked a little further. Once clear of the music and shouts, Sam said, “I like Ellen, too. She’s a sweet, smart, and quiet lady.”
“Opposites attract and that’s surely why we’re such good friends.”
They arrived at her campsite.
Sam smiled, aware he couldn’t object too much, especially when her husband slept nearby. Instead, he said, “I consider you two, three with Miss Jenny included, as lovely and charming birds of a feather.” When she opened her mouth to argue, he said, “Case closed and good night, Mrs. Warren.”
Closing her mouth with a snap, she stepped back and said, “Good night, Mr. Granville. Sleep well.”
He strolled back to his camp. One of the men had spread out his bedroll, and he gave a silent thank you to whoever had been so thoughtful. A quiet settled over the area. Even the boisterous simmered down to muted conversation. All of his hands had bedded down already. Lucky laid face up, his mouth agape. Sam struggled to not laugh aloud at his snores. Joe stretched out on his side, Arnold nearby and echoing the position. Lefty slept curled up as if to protect his mangled right arm. He’d had his concerns about the crew when Claude, Larry, and Chuck couldn’t return for this trip. These past few months proved he had chosen a team of decent and good men.
Sam kicked off his boots and slid into his bedroll. His conversation with Marie stayed in his mind. She’d been wealthy, yet he’d never heard her voice a rich woman’s complaint. He grinned. She didn’t seem to enjoy talking about Ellen and him. That little flash of jealousy in her eyes warmed his heart. The woman needed a taste of what he got every time Warren touched her.
Sounds of people talking and bacon frying woke Sam. He smiled before opening his eyes. No get-up, hurry-up sounds of a bugle. The cold morning air hung heavy with moisture from the nearby body of water. He nodded. Yep, right about now was when he started getting homesick. Nowhere else but home did the rolling hills combine with evergreens while Mount Hood stood watch in the distance.
“Playing possum, boss?”
Sam sat up and grinned at Uncle Joe. “Yes, and not very well, I suppose.”
“Nope. Good thing I’m not a coyote.” The older man flipped the bacon. “Coffee’s ready.”
“Great.” He stood, legs a little stiff from the cold. “Where is everyone?”
“Not far. Checking the animals, changing their grazing stakes.”
Cup in hand, Sam poured some coffee. “You could have shaken me awake to help. Though I’m glad you didn’t.”
“I reckoned so. It’ll take some time for you to get used to the second watch.”
He nodded, drinking the hot liquid. The warmth seeped into him, waking him with each sip. “Lucky’s up running around here?”
“Yep. He’ll be dead asleep by dinner.”
Sam laughed. “I’m sure.” Glancing over the fine clothes Joe wore, he asked, “Are the others wearing their Sunday best, too?”
“Yep.” He indicated the trio behind Sam. “And they know when to show for breakfast.”
Lefty settled in next to Sam. “We’d have been here sooner, but Lucky made us take the long way.”
“Past Allen’s wagon?” He took plates from Joe, passing each dish full of food to his men.
“Yeah,” the young man replied with a grin. “Though I’d rather wander around like that after breakfast.”
Full plates soon became empty. He and the others didn’t talk; the bacon and cornbread had their attention. In between bites, Sam said, “Let me change clothes after this so we can get started washing.”
Done first, Lucky stood. “I vote you wash dishes, boss, while we get started on the bedding and such.”
Sam grinned, wanting to dispute the idea this was a democracy. Resigned to dishpan hands, he also got to his feet. “All right. I’ll throw wash out of the wagon to you all, then change into my best.” He put his dishes into the pail with Joe’s and Lucky’s. To Arnold and Lefty, he said, “No need to rush. The last man to the river gets to wash the frying pan, and I don’t want to be him.” He got into the back of the wagon and began tossing out the dirty bedding and clothes onto a sheet. By the time he found a clean shirt and pants, all of his men had left with the dishes and laundry. Sam laughed, seeing them gone. He secured the front and back flaps of the canvas wagon top before changing clothes. Sam emerged wearing his best with the worst wrapped in a bundle.
He followed a straight line to the river but didn’t see anyone in his employ. Frowning, Sam scanned the landscape. He spotted them at a distance, walking toward him. Predictable, he thought. They’d taken the long way for Lucky’s sake. He resisted the urge to put his hands on his hips like a schoolmarm and struggled to suppress a smile. Everyone but Lefty carried laundry. The young man held the pail in his good hand, frying pan sticking out of the top. As they neared, Sam chided Lucky, “How many times in a day are you going to say hello to that girl?”
He had the good sense to turn red. Dropping the dirty clothes next to the water, he admitted, “Probably not much more today, sir.”
“They’re coming over here later to wash up, too,” Arnold added, handing Lefty a spoon.
Sam pulled off his boots and socks, getting ready to wade out into the water. “That sounds interesting. Does your ‘they’ mean all of the Allens?”
Joe said, “More like the three ladies.”
Sam nodded, trying to not smile at the prospect of seeing Marie this morning. “Let’s get all this over with, and whoever wants to stay here and help the ladies can do so.”
Frowning, Arnold said, “I don’t know if I like any woman enough for double duty.”
They laughed at the young man’s sullen face. Uncle Joe assured him with, “It’ll happen, one of these days.”
Taking the kidding as well as he took the dishes from Lefty, Arnold replied, “It could happen today if she scrubs these for me.” He held up the frying pan and picked at some of the burned fat inside. “I’ll need a knife to cut off all this mess.”
Bent over and raising his pants cuffs, Sam said, “Whatever it takes to get them clean for noon is fine with me.” He glanced over and saw Lucky was ready, too. “Sooner we start, sooner we’re done.” They both waded into the river, the water cold. “Damn.”
“Should we fill up a wash tub for boiling?” Joe asked, handing over shirts to each of them.
“Let’s see how this works.” Sam started scrubbing the fabric with the soap Joe gave him. “It’s cleaning up pretty well.”
Arnold took off his boots and rolled up his cuffs as the other had. He grabbed up a couple of shirts and soap, giving Lucky his own bar of lye. As the three of them washed the laundry, Joe carried the damp clothes to their wagon for drying. Meanwhile, Lefty cleaned up the dishes, taking them to the cart when finished.
Sam wrung out the last of the pants. He stretched, his back stiff from being bent over while dredging the blankets. Lucky carried one sodden mass to the edge. Uncle Joe took the bundle while Arnold stepped up to take Sam’s load. Lefty’s arrival caught Sam’s attention, and he kidded, “Welcome back, stranger! Glad you could help us.”
“Don’t blame him, Mr. Granville,” said Jenny.
“No, don’t,” added Marie. “He told us where to find you. Otherwise, he’d still be working on your wagon.”
“What happened there?” asked Sam while giving Lucky another wrung dry shirt.
“Nothing, boss,” Lefty replied. “Just making sure the wind didn’t blow away everything.”
“Good idea.” He grinned at the three women. “We’re not at our best right now, ladies.”
Ellen stepped up and picked up a fallen part of the fabric before it hit the ground. “We’d hoped you could escort us to the Indian trading post this afternoon.”
“Please say you will,” said Jenny, her hands in a prayer pose.
He grinned at the girl’s pleading. Sam stepped out of the creek and onto the dry soil. Using his socks to brush the sand from his feet, he looked up at Marie while unrolling his cuff. “Are you in on this, too?”
She smiled at him. “Of course.”
With a sigh as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, Sam said, “Fine.” He pulled on his boots then picked up a bundle of wet laundry. “Help us get this set up to dry and we’ll go.”
>
They worked in pairs, the women giving the men various items, which they draped over every possible part of the wagons. In a short while, Lucky offered, “I should go with you, just to help keep everyone safe.”
“I agree,” said Jenny in a tone louder than her usual. She turned pink. “If you approve, Mr. Granville.”
Sam grinned at her apparent preference for the young man. “Good idea.” He turned to ask Arnold, “Are you with us as well?” Looking past him and at the older man, he added, “How about you, Uncle Joe?”
Arnold shook his head. “I’ll stay and keep watch over our wash.”
Uncle Joe shrugged. “I can go see if there're any supplies worth the money they’re charging.”
“Lefty?” Sam asked.
The young man glanced at Ellen before staring at his feet. “I might.”
“Good.” He draped a sheet they’d used to carry clothes over the wagon’s tailgate. That’s the last of it. Ladies, if you’re ready?” Their faces gave him the answer. “Then let’s go.”
Jenny hurried and linked arms with Lucky. She asked him, “How will we know if they're honest with the trades?”
“I’ve never known them to lie.” He indicated Sam with a nod, “Our boss here knows Sioux.”
Marie clapped her hands a couple of times in applause. “Mr. Granville, I’m impressed.”
Feeling shy, Sam replied, “Don’t be. People around here speak Shoshone. I might know a few words, but not much more.” He led them along the river, walking around the various groups of people parked along the bank.
Jenny and Lucky stopped talking to listen to him after Ellen asked, “Was the Indians’ language difficult to learn?”
“More so than Latin and French,” Sam admitted with a shrug. The trading post was a few yards ahead, and he looked over at Marie. Getting lost in the crowd with her appealed to him.
“Who taught Indian to you?” asked Jenny.
Ellen also asked, “Have any books on their language been written?”
Sam saw various people he’d met, approaching them as if going back to the pioneers’ camps. Remembering the women’s questions, he replied, “None that I know of. When my family went across the country in the 30’s, we had a guide. I thought his words were interesting and asked him to teach me as we went.”
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