Undeniable

by Laura Stapleton

  The little one nodded and turned when hearing one of the others yell for her. “Goodbye, ma’am!” she said and scampered away.

  Beth settled in, facing west, to watch her cow eat and the sun set. Erleen pulled eagerly at the new grass. They'd not had time today to loiter, and she felt sure the cow must have longed to graze a few times. Various animal trails in the woods or valleys called to Beth as well. She wanted to follow them, if only to see where they led. After trying to wiggle her toes, she considered taking off Lizzy’s shoes but decided against doing so. She figured putting them back on after a rest would have her too used to the relief. Better to wait until after dinner and take them off for the night.

  With the cow having such a good nature, Beth milked her as the animal ate. She stood once Erleen had her fill of dinner and scooped up the bucket. Campfires dotted the land in the early evening light. The air hung heavy with the cooling of the day and scent of food. Walking up to the wagons, she had hoped Daggart started their campfire for dinner but no welcoming light glowed. She tied Erleen for the night and emptied the milk into a glass jar and sealed it with a lid. While fetching water, she kept a look out for her husband.

  In the fading light of dusk, the creek appeared more sinister to her. She peered, trying to find the bottom, but the inky darkness of the liquid prevented her. Beth took a couple of deep breaths to keep calm. She reassured her fears, asserting she wasn’t getting her shoes wet, just the bucket. Bending down a little, she strained to tip some water into the container to rinse off the milk. Beth cleaned out the bucket a little at a time. Finally, knowing she stalled the inevitable, she leaned further over, scooping as much as possible in one try. Satisfied with the heft of the bucket, she went back to camp. If lucky, she’d not need to get near the stream again this evening.

  Their small campfire welcomed her. The near full moon hadn’t risen yet. The people in camp played music, sang, and talked around their own temporary hearths. Beth supposed Dag had started the fire since his bedroll lay nearby. She put the water bucket on the fire to start boiling and searched their stores for dinner fixings.

  Dag came around the wagon’s end, stopping in his tracks upon seeing her. “You ain’t cooked us anything yet?”

  “Not yet, but dinner won’t take long.” She hated being late with his food.

  “What is the damned hold up?” He kicked his bedroll out of the circle of light. Dag then stomped off to retrieve it while complaining, “First, we can’t stop for nothin’ until nearly tomorrow. Now you’ve been lyin’ around all evening, not cookin’ anythin’ to eat. I’m hungry and I deserve a hot meal.”

  Beth clenched her jaw, not willing to argue with him. Any sort of discussion would anger him into violence, especially when he was hungry. In silence, she set up the bacon frying in the pan and mixed the cornbread. Beth didn’t figure the cornbread could be as tasty cooked over the fire as in an oven, but it was his favorite and would quiet Daggart for now. When he settled down on his retrieved bedroll, she asked, “Were you able to hunt today?”

  “No.”

  “I don’t think anyone did.” She left the food to take the boiling water from the fire. Beth took his cup from the wagon and filled it with the fresh milk. “Are you going to set up our tent?”

  “No. No one else is, either. There ain’t no rain in the air, and it’s warm out tonight.”

  After eating, Daggart spread out on his makeshift bed. Beth stifled a sigh while eating what remained of the food. She felt like to going sleep at the moment too, but poured cooled water into a jar for tomorrow and capped it. Dishes went into the bucket for later washing.

  Daggart stirred when the metal and glass clanged. “Stop it, Lizzy. I’m trying to sleep.”

  She set the bucket down by the wagon wheel, unwilling to irritate him into hopping up and being mean to her. Her feet hurt standing there, plus, she didn’t want to go to the creek for washing. Waiting until morning also didn’t appeal to her, but at least there’d be light. Beth sat and pried the shoes from her feet, gasping at the cool air soothing them. The chill felt good on the bare skin. There were no new blisters or raw flesh, just deep grooves where the seams pressed into her insole. She wiggled her toes, even if they hurt, and began rubbing the sore spots. When her feet felt better after the care, she crawled into her bedroll. Her cloth sack of spun wool doubled as a pillow. She settled her head onto the cushy comfort.

  “I sure do miss Lizzy.”

  Daggart’s gruff confession surprised her out of her drowsiness. He’d mentioned her sister before this but not since her father died and not as if Lizzy was truly gone. His sadness triggered memories of her sister’s death and their father’s mental decline from the loss. “I do too, Daggart.”

  He snapped at her, “Then you better start doin’ a better job than usual of bein’ her. You keep your promise, I keep mine.”

  She lay there, staring up at the stars with tears flowing. Beth didn’t sob aloud. This was an old hurt in her heart. They’d not been identical by a long shot, but she and Lizzy had been twins and still closer than most sisters. First their mother, then Lizzy, and finally Pa all left her with Daggart. She glanced over at him. He’d settled in at arm’s distance from her.

  If he’d been the same man Lizzy had married, Beth might not mind taking her sister’s place. She struggled to keep from sniffling and letting him know she was crying. Lizzy died because of her. She’d promised Pa and Daggart to make up for her horrible mistake. There was no sense in her wasting time wishing things were different.

  The new day began too soon. Beth woke slowly, wiping the sleep from her eyes. She looked at the ashes, hoping a little spark remained for this morning. Daggart’s bedroll was gone, as was he. She propped up on one arm, pushing the hair from her face. Her braid had come undone in the night, so she searched for the pin.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Bartlett.”

  She smiled at Nicholas’s voice, smoothing back the wisps and sliding the hairpin into place. “Good morning, I think.”

  “You don’t know for certain?” He walked over to her and squatted.

  Even when he was lower, she had to lift her chin to look into his eyes. She stifled a yawn. “Not until I’m awake.”

  “I can fix that.”

  She watched while packing her bed and wool for tonight as he put fresh wood on their embers. “Thank goodness,” Beth exclaimed as flames flickered. “I thought they were dead.”

  Nick smiled at her. “Not entirely.” He took the bucket of dishes. “If you’ll find your coffee and put a little more wood on the fire, I’ll wash these for you.”

  Blinking, she watched him stroll away with her dishes. Beth did as he asked, putting a few sticks on the fire and getting a scoop of beans for the coffee pot. She checked on Erleen and the oxen, and Nick returned shortly after.

  “Great!” Nick poured water into the pot. “This will help you on your feet.”

  “It will. Thank you.” She smiled. “Did you want some coffee when this is done?”

  “I’ve had mine already. Excuse me while I rouse the other sleepyheads.” He tipped his hat and left her there.

  She frowned, unhappy at what this meant. Daggart had been right. Beth had held up the entire group. The Granvilles did talk to him. Dag hadn’t been falsely blaming her yesterday. Her face burned in embarrassment as she mixed up biscuits as fast as possible and set them on the fire to cook.

  A little while after the coffee began boiling, she poured a cup. Beth sipped, already dreading the day’s walk. She waited for her husband as long as possible, keeping busy by making sure she’d packed everything else. She folded the biscuits into a napkin for breakfast later in the morning. Daggart could grab his own food while on the move.

  All that remained was putting on her shoes. Beth picked them up and went to sit on the wagon tongue. Walking on the cool, trampled grass had felt good. She forced herself to put them on using the buttonhook to fasten them. One of the top buttons popped off, the pressure tearing a hole in
the leather. She gingerly stood to her feet, wincing at the pain. Beth took a couple of limped steps toward the oxen.

  She pulled both animals into place and fastened their yoke. Seeing her husband, Beth waved him over to her. She asked for his unneeded expertise, knowing he loved thinking himself the smarter of the two of them. “Have I done this correctly?”

  He made a show of checking and double-checking the harnesses. “It’s good.” Daggart started the oxen on down the crooked road. “We’re going in front today. I don’t need you causin’ trouble for us, Lizzy.”

  Beth fell in step beside him, forcing herself not to limp. “I don’t plan on doing so.”

  “Hope not, because these men are our guides and guards to the gold, and you’re not messin’ it up for me.” He glanced around. “I’ve seen you wander off, talkin’ to one man, then another. I don’t know what your plan is, but you’d better count on diggin’ once we get to California.”

  “That is my only plan.” She told him the truth. Whatever plans Beth ever had, Daggart tore through as if her wishes were spider webs. “Unless, you decide on a different life for us.”

  “Gold is my only plan.” He glared at her. “Mr. Granville seems to be taken with you. I’ve see him smilin’ and bein’ polite and all.”

  Nicholas never seemed to need encouragement. Now nervous of how much Daggart suspected of her feelings, Beth swallowed. “I don’t call him over specially.”

  “I’m thinkin’ you might be doin’ just that. In case you get ideas, you’re not the only woman he likes to help around here. I’ve seen him bein’ a bit too friendly with the other gals too, especially the married ones.”

  “I see.” She bit her lip, chewing. Beth didn’t know how to feel. Foolish, because she thought he treated her with special regard? Embarrassed, since she had feelings he’d never return? Or sadness, certain she’d stay married to someone else?

  “You better see real good. Just because he calls all the women ‘my dear,’ they all think he’s a gentleman.” Dag snorted, “Those manners are wiles dressed in Sunday best.”

  Oh heavens, he was talking about Samuel. She stifled a chuckle at her mistake. Still, Beth didn’t think Samuel was as conniving as Daggart had said and asked him, “Why do you suppose he only pays favors to the married women instead of the eligible girls?”

  “Crazy woman. The man doesn’t want to get caught by some husband-huntin’ devil.” Daggart slowed and took her arm as if protecting her. “Look out, there’s trouble up ahead.”

  She stepped away from him and forward a little to see why the fuss. The wagons stacked backwards from a ravine. Riders galloped north and south from the train’s front.

  “Go see what the holdup is but keep out of the way,” Dag ordered her from where he waited. “Don’t get hurt and hold us back, Lizzy.”

  Beth went, resentfully doing as he’d asked because she was curious too. As she made her way up front, other women and children joined her. All speculated as to the reason for stopping before noontime. Then everyone saw why. The ravine, seeming thin from a distance, instead gaped wide enough to swallow wagons. A high-pitched whistle caught everyone’s attention. The rider to the south waved an arm in the air.

  Samuel rode past at a trot, saying, “We’ll head downstream for half a mile, cross the creek bed, and then see.” The first wagon followed him toward the south.

  She searched for but didn’t see the north rider. The southern rider, now small, picked his way down to the bottoms. Wagons in front of Beth obscured her view. The wheels also kicked up more dust, the ground having dried from the rains of two days ago. A gritty wind blew from the west and she blinked away the grains.

  From what she’d seen, the opposite bank appeared very steep. She trusted the captains and hands knew what to do. Walking back to Dag, Beth wondered how anyone could coax animals up the steep wall.

  “Took you long enough.”

  Beth ignored Dag’s tone and an argument. “We have to go south and across.”

  He let out an exasperated snort. “I didn’t see any water.”

  She tried to remember seeing the glint of a stream. “No, there isn’t any. The bed is dry.”

  “Did you get water this morning?”

  She’d forgotten. Clenching and releasing her hands, she didn’t want to admit to overlooking a task so important. “For us, but not for the animals.”

  He stopped the animals to glare at her. “Didn’t you think we needed water for the oxen? How’re you going to get milk from Erleen tomorrow if she don’t get water today?”

  His volume increased with each word. She saw others glance at them then look away in a hurry. Beth didn’t blame them. She didn’t want to be caught up in a fight either. “I’m sorry, Dag. We’ve always been near a creek of some sort. I didn’t think about needing water until just now.”

  “There’s a lot you don’t think about, woman.” He spit. “Am I going to have to do everythin’ for you?”

  She closed her eyes hard for a moment, willing herself not to snap back at him. “No, you won’t. You’re right, I do need to think more.”

  “See that you do,” he sneered. “We need them in California. They’ll be so helpful in the mines that I’d sooner bury you before them, Lizzy Lou.”

  Her chin snapped up at the name. Could he mean what he’d said? “You prefer a couple of animals to your wife?”

  “When you’re not being the wife I want, I do. You know the agreement.”

  Curse the bargain. Beth hated every minute passed since then. “I know you don’t mean it, but very well. I’ll make sure the big bucket is full of water if you make sure it’s put in the wagon.”

  “Will do.” Daggart pulled on the oxen, leading them to the ravine’s slope.

  She let him continue on, unable to bear being near him another moment. Other wagons behind her kept Beth from loitering in one spot too long. Curious, she walked to the edge of the chasm. No streams flowed below. Creeks, rivers, and other ponds had been so plentiful in Missouri. She never thought to store any water for the prairie. If tales about the great desert past the Platte were true, she needed a better plan.

  The northern rider galloped up, saw her watching him, and slowed to tip his hat. This one, different from the others, wore a green flannel shirt, open halfway down his hairy chest. Leather buckskin similar to Nicholas’s coat, but with fringe, covered his legs. Like the other hands, he had pistols in a holster draped over the front of his saddle. She’d seen him around the camp but never spoke. Beth returned his greeting with a smile and nod as he rode past.

  A long line of white-topped wagons snaked their way along the ravine going north. They traveled the slope into the slight canyon without incident. She followed at a distance from the dust cloud while not lagging too far behind everyone else.

  The train rolled for what seemed like forever to Beth’s empty stomach. She looked up at the midday sun. The procession hadn’t stopped for noon. She hoped they made an early night of it. Though her feet ached, she kept going, knowing biscuits and water waited for her ahead.

  Beth hurried up to the back of their wagon, finding Dag had already eaten his lunch. He’d left her water and a biscuit, something she’d not expected after their earlier conversation. She ate and a couple of drinks later, she wanted to give the last bit of water to their animals. Considering his earlier anger, Beth decided to consult Daggart first.

  “What the hell?” He stood with the other men, arguing. “We have to unload everythin’ just to get up the hill?”

  His raised voice unnerved her and drew attention to him. She glanced around, hoping no one else heard his complaining. Beth walked up and peered to the front of the queue. The wagon at the foot of the ravine’s exit buzzed with activity. Several people handed off the contents onto the ground. She watched as the person inside hopped out, signaled to the driver, and waited until the wagon topped the embankment. A line of people handed the boxes and sacks of belongings up to the cart. They made quick work of repack
ing everything.

  She went back to Daggart. “I don’t think it will be too bad. There’s a lot of help and it seems to go fast.”

  He turned to her, hand raised. “Shut up!” Then, as if aware a few people saw his actions, he lowered his arm. Glaring at her, he ground out between clenched teeth, “I’m glad you reckon so. Let’s see what you say unloadin’ and loadin’ our own.”

  She knew better than to argue but blurted, “The men and boys handle the slope. The women are driving the animals and watching out for the children.” Beth yelped when he grabbed her upper arm. He wasn’t gentle this time, or protective.

  He smiled at the others as they walked by, dismissing them with a nod, and held her arm with a hard squeeze. “Since we don’t have children, you’ll help the men, won’t you,” Dag growled.

  She bit her lip at the pain and knew he wasn’t asking. “Of course. I’ll want to make sure they do it right for you, won’t I?”

  “Good. Now get up there and make yourself useful,” he said with a shove.

  Stumbling, she caught herself from falling, turning her ankle a little. A slight stab of pain went up her calf that she ignored in her hurry to get out of Dag’s sight. Beth breathed in deep, releasing it in a whoosh, trying to disregard the sting in her left ankle. She shook her head as if to shake away the hurt, having no way to avoid a limp. Between the tiny shoes and now this, she took each step with caution. Not everyone in the group strode hard and strong. Surely no one would notice her walking a little lame too.

  She reached the latest wagon being driven up the incline. Addressing the nearest hired hand, the one she’d seen riding from the north, Beth asked, “How may I help?”

  “Ce qui? Je ne comprends pas.” He nodded toward Nicholas riding up to them. ”Demandez-lui, s’il vous plait.”

  ”Qu'est-ce que c'est?” Nicholas asked of the man.

  Shrugging, the worker replied, “Je ne la connais pas. Entretien à elle.”

  “Ah. Hello, Mrs. Bartlett.” Nicholas smiled down at her and tipped his hat. “I’m afraid Claude here doesn’t understand. Maybe I can help?”